“Celine—”
But the line clicks off. She is gone.
I set the handset down hard, despite knowing it had been a long shot thinking Celine would want to help me.
I can only hope that George and his partner will be able to craft a compelling argument without her help.
That evening, George and Lila invite several friends over, and I find myself enjoying the festivities more than I thought I would. We play charades and Parcheesi and eat oysters on the half shell. There is dancing and singing and card games. It is the most joyous I have felt since my happiest days in Vienna.
The following day, the three of us get up late. We are enjoying coffee and leftover Parker House rolls from dinner the night before when the telephone rings. George comes back to the breakfast nook after answering and tells me the call is for me.
“It’s a Mr. Stuart Townsend,” George says with a smile. I spring from my chair to pick up the receiver on the telephone table between the kitchen and dining room.
“Hello, Stuart,” I say. “Please tell me you have news for me.”
“I do,” he replies. “I figured I could sneak into the offices unnoticed this morning with it being New Year’s Day. There’s no one on the first floor except me right now. I found the name of the receiving home where Amaryllis was taken. It’s called Fairbrook Children’s Home and it’s in Oakland. Do you want the address?”
“Yes, yes!” I fumble for a pencil and a piece of notepaper. He speaks the address and I scribble it down. “Thank you so much for this, Stuart.” My voice starts to break. “I really am so very grateful.”
“You’re... you’re welcome.”
I hear emotion in his voice, too.
“Did you happen to find out if Rosie is still working at that hotel?” he asks.
“She left that place some years ago.”
I tell Stuart about my visit to the Pacifica and my conversation with Mr. Brohm.
“I’m beginning to think I’ll never find out what became of her, but the manager said she seemed happy when she left, Stuart. There is that.”
“All right,” he says, but I can tell it isn’t all right.
“What is it?” I ask him. “Why is it so important to you that I find her? What is it that you are sorry for?”
He is quiet for a moment. “Rosie and another resident had a chance to escape when I was on security detail,” he finally says. “I ruined it for them. I blew my whistle.”
“Weren’t you just a boy?”
“I had just turned fourteen. The other resident got away, but Rosie had just given birth and she couldn’t run. I don’t know if Rosie would’ve been able to make good her escape, but she might have had a chance if I hadn’t blown the whistle. I wish I hadn’t. She was a nice person. And smart. I didn’t think she belonged here, and I’ve always wished I had done things differently.”
“All of us, at some point in our lives, wish for a way to go back in time and make different decisions. I wish for it, too. You have no idea how much.”
We are both quiet for a moment.
“Do you want me to let you know what I find out about Amaryllis?” I ask him.
“I would. Please write to me at the university, though. Don’t try to call me here.”
He gives me his address.
“I’ll stay in touch,” I say. “Thank you, Stuart. So very much. And happy New Year.”
“Same to you.”
When I hang up, I consider, only for a moment, calling the Fairbrook Children’s Home right then. But I want to see the place,want the people who run it to see me. I want to see for myself what kind of environment my infant niece was placed in, and I want its managers to see for themselves what kind of person I am. I want them to meet me, not just hear my voice. I want them to want to help me.
I know I’m not going to be given the name of the family who adopted Amaryllis or the address where they live. But I am hoping compassion will win out and I’ll be told in general terms about the couple who chose her. Took her home. Gave her their last name.
