“You knew her?”
“My family has a house on the premises, so I pretty much grew up inside the hospital. My father was always giving me little jobs to do. I knew a lot of the residents. I liked Rosie, and I wish... I wish things had turned out differently for her.”
“So do I.”
We are quiet for a moment.
“I’d better get back inside.” Stuart casts a glance toward the building behind him and then turns back to me. “If you happen to find Rosie, would you tell her something? Please? From me?”
“Of course.”
“Tell her I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault what happened to her here,” I say gently. “You couldn’t have been more than a kid.”
Stuart Townsend smiles, but it is not a happy smile; it is one full of old regret. “But you’ll tell her anyway? I don’t want her to forget that I was always very sorry about what happened here. And my part in it. So, you’ll tell her?”
I tell him I’ll pass on the message if I’m ever able to.
He starts to turn and so do I, but then another thought occurs to me. “Do you think you could do one more thing for me? Couldyou find out where the baby was sent? Please? It would mean a great deal to me if I could know what became of my niece or nephew.”
Stuart thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. Those records are in a different place. Maybe. If I can get to them without my father knowing about it.”
“I would be forever in your debt.”
“I could try. Is there a telephone number where I can reach you?”
I feel inside my handbag for a pen and scrap of paper, and I pull out the bill from the hotel in Santa Rosa where I spent Christmas Eve night. I write Lila and George’s number on one corner, tear it off, and give it to him.
“Do you remember what it was?” I ask. “I mean, was the baby a boy or a girl?”
Stuart pockets the scrap of paper. “I do remember. She had a little girl.”
I feel my heart lighten with the joy of knowing this. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I’d better go,” he says.
As he turns to head back inside, one last question springs from my lips. “Do you happen to remember if a name was given to the child?”
Stuart smiles as he swivels to face me again. “I do remember. Rosie asked that I make sure the home that was receiving her baby knew a name had been chosen. I can’t remember the name of that receiving home, but I remember the name Rosie had given the baby. She was adamant about it. And it was a rather unique name.”
“Please tell me.”
“Amaryllis.”
27
Before...
MAY 1940
A week had passed since Fraulein Platz had been to the house, and I settled into a contented confidence that I had come through for the Maier family. The turmoil all around Austria was alarming, and the family still prayed nightly at dinner for Captain Maier’s safety, but inside the Maier home, when the door was shut on the worries of the world, I sensed ours was a peaceful haven. The town house on Rainergasse was the one place where I and the family I loved had relative shelter from the storms of war.
I took Brigitta to school on a warmer but still chilly May morning and came back to the house to straighten up the children’s rooms. But first I wanted a cup of tea and a Berliner. I was just setting the kettle to boil when Martine rushed into the house from having been to the post office. She dashed inside as if she’d forgotten something important and had returned for it. She nodded to me standing at the kitchen counter and then tugged off her sweater and hat and tossed them on the kitchen table rather than on the hook in the entry behind her.
“You need to pack a suitcase,” Martine said. “I’ll pack one forBrigitta. I’m sending the two of you to my parents’ in Innsbruck, and I want you both on the first afternoon train.”
I had been to Martine’s parents’ home in Innsbruck several times. It was a charming place, and the children loved going there for summer term breaks and skiing trips over the holidays. But it was only mid-May. There were several weeks of school left. Everything about Martine’s demeanor told me that something was wrong.
