“I have been out of the country for a long while, you see. I was in Europe during the war, so I didn’t know about Rosie’s situation.”
The doctor blinks at me, and I can tell my explanation is no explanation at all.
“Well,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m afraid you’ve troubled yourself to come here for no reason. Rosanne Maras was discharged from this institution in the fall of 1940.” The doctor regards me for a moment before continuing. “And I’m sure you must be aware that your brother and sister-in-law ended their guardianship over Rosie before she was brought here.”
“Yes, Celine told me that. I was hoping you could tell me where Rosie was discharged to. Actually, I am most interested in what became of the child she bore.”
“And why is that, Miss Calvert?”
“Because, as much as it pains me to say it, my late brother, Truman Calvert, is the father. The child is my niece or nephew.”
“So your brother told you he is the father? I ask because Rosie would not or could not tell us who the father of the child was. Your brother’s name is not recorded on the birth certificate that we issued here.”
I open my mouth to tell him Rosanne was paid for her silence, but shut it. That is not this man’s business. When I open it again, different words are on my tongue.
“It’s really not my place to discuss private matters about this unfortunate family situation, Doctor. I came here primarily to ask about the child. My niece or nephew. And I would also like to know where Rosie is.”
“I don’t know where Rosie is.”
“Can you please tell me where she went when she was discharged? Can you tell me where her child was sent?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. You aren’t Rosie’s next of kin. And as far as I know, you’re not kin of the baby, either. So no. I can’t tell you anything.”
I feel my frustration rising even though I know I must remain polite and genial if I am going to get any information at all from this man.
“Is there anything youcantell me?” I ask as nicely as I can.
“Such as?”
“Such as why Rosie was brought to a place like this? I don’t understand. It seems to me she should have been taken to a home for unwed mothers.”
“That is your opinion and you are entitled to it, but unless you are a doctor—are you?”
“No.”
“Well, unless you are a doctor, you can’t possibly know what would’ve been best for her, could you? Rosie was a minor child who’d been placed in the care of the state, and this is a state institution dedicated to caring for people like her.”
“Like her?”
“Yes.”
“Are you saying she was crazy or mentally encumbered or psychopathically delinquent or any of the other things on your sign outside?”
“Nowhere on our sign outside do we call anyone crazy, Miss Calvert.”
I take a breath and hold it a moment to calm myself. I am getting more annoyed by the minute at the doctor’s tone. “But it does say the other things.”
Dr. Townsend stares at me a moment. “How well did you know Rosanne Maras?”
“She was born at my brother and sister-in-law’s vineyard. She’d lived her whole life there.”
“But I asked how well you knew her.”
I know my answer will only serve to prove his point, not mine. “That’s not what really matters at the moment—”
“Well, of course it matters. It always matters how well we know a person if we are going to make decisions regarding his or her well-being.”
I take another calming breath. The doctor waits for my reply, unruffled. Calm. Completely in control.
