The familiar smell of damp stone and ceremonial incense hit her immediately as her pumps struck the marble floor.
“May I help you?” A petite woman with gray hair and cat-eye glasses greeted Grace.
“Hello, I’m Grace Golden. I think we might have met before when I dropped off some clothes from the City of Hope Women’s Club.”
The woman smiled at Grace. “I thought you looked familiar … and you’re one of the only locals with such a charming Irish accent.”
“Thank you, that’s most kind.” Grace leaned in as if sharing a secret with the woman. “I’m hoping maybe you can help me.… You see, I’m here for a specific reason.…”
“I will certainly try, Mrs. Golden.”
“Well, over the weekend, on my way home from Mass, actually,” Grace continued, “I found a little boy alone on the street. I learned later that afternoon when we took him down to the police station that he had run away from here.”
The woman’s face stiffened.
“The only children we have here at the moment are those who came with their families from a Red Cross refugee camp and are sponsored by the diocese.”
“Yes, that’s what the social worker mentioned.” Grace paused. “It’s got to be about five miles from here to Maple Avenue in Bellegrove, so it concerns me the child walked so far … and also seemed to have spent the night sleeping outside.”
“That’s a long way to walk.” The woman frowned. “But I can assure you all the families are getting wonderful care here.”
“I was hoping I could check on him and his aunt, Anh,” she explained gently. “I remember how hard it was for me to come here from Ireland not knowing a soul; I just want to show a friendly face.”
“We don’t typically allow unscheduled visitors, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I can sit down and wait. Let me know when there might be someone in charge who can speak with me.”
Grace looked over at the wooden bench outside the reception area, then glanced at her wristwatch.
It was 10:15. Katie would be getting home at 3:00 p.m., Molly at 3:30. For all practical purposes, Grace could wait there all day.
Grace sat quietly on the bench for nearly forty minutes before one of the Sisters appeared.
“Ms. Golden?” Standing in front of Grace was a middle-aged woman in a navy skirt and blazer. “I’m Sister Mary Alice,” she said,extending her hand. “Apologies for keeping you waiting. We’re a bit overwhelmed at the moment with our latest charges.”
“Yes, I imagine you are.”
“I hear you’ve come here to inquire about Anh and her nephew B?o.”
“Yes,” she said, steadying her voice. “I was the one who found him in Bellegrove on Sunday.”
“And we’re very grateful that you did. We are going to keep an extra careful eye on him now.”
Grace forced a smile. “It must be quite an adjustment here from his life back in Vietnam.”
“Oh, yes! It really is.… Not just the language barrier … but so many things. America is foreign for them in so many ways.…”
“And I gather you’re trying to teach them English.…”
“Yes, that’s our priority right now. Most of them had basic English lessons in the refugee camp before they came here, but there is still so much work to be done. With the public school nearly out for the summer break, we wanted to use the next few months most effectively so the children will be able to start class there in the fall. B?o is the oldest we have. The others are mostly toddlers.”
“How old is he?”
“We believe B?o is ten.” Sister Mary Alice smiled. “It’s been a bit of a whirlwind trying to get the facts straight through the refugee camp in Malaysia they were sent to before they came here.”
“I can imagine,” Grace agreed. “Have you any idea where his parents are?”
“Sadly, B?o’s an orphan. Anh is his guardian.”
