The matron went to the dresser and took out a plain cotton dress that looked nothing like the pretty things her mother had given her. There was also a pair of panties, and some socks that had turned an ugly gray color. “And these will be your clothes. Put them on, please.”
The child hesitated, then did as the matron had instructed. Taking off the frilly pinafore in which her mother had dressed her that morning, she lay it carefully on the bed so as not to wrinkle it. Then she pulled off her underthings, and was about to put on the panties when she heard the matron utter a strange sound. Looking up, she saw the woman staring down at her naked body, her eyes wide.
“Did I do something wrong?” the child asked, speaking for the first time.
The matron hesitated, then shook her head. “No, child, of course you didn’t. But we got you the wrong clothes, didn’t we? Little boys don’t wear dresses, do they?” The matron picked up the doll. “And they certainly don’t play with dolls. We’ll get rid of this right now.”
The child screamed in protest, then fell sobbing to the bed, but it did no good. The matron took the doll away. The child would never see it again.
Nor would anyone beyond the Asylum’s walls ever see the child again.
The dark figure cradled the doll, gazing into its porcelain face in the moonlight, stroking its long blond hair, remembering how it had come to be here. And knowing to whom it must now be given.…
Chapter 1
Elizabeth McGuire was worried. It had now been nearly twenty-four hours since her husband had gotten the call from Jules Hartwick. Though the banker told Bill that the “small problem” that had come up about the Blackstone Center wasn’t particularly serious, Bill had been brooding ever since. All through yesterday afternoon his agitation had grown worse. By dinnertime even Megan, who in the six short years of her life had rarely failed to bring a smile to her father’s face, was unable to extract anything more than a grunt from him.
Bill spent most of the night pacing the house, finally coming to bed only when Elizabeth had come downstairs, rubbing her distended belly, and informed him that not only was she lonely, but their soon-to-be-born baby was too. That had at least brought Bill to bed, but she was aware that he hadn’t really slept. By dawn he was already dressed and downstairs, getting in Mrs. Goodrich’s way.
Worse, when Megan came down ten minutes ago, the first thing she wanted to know was if her daddy was sick. Elizabeth assured the little girl that her father was all right, but Megan wasn’t convinced, and volunteered to take care of her daddy if he was sick. Only when Bill himself had given her a hug and declared that he was fine had she gone off to the kitchen to help Mrs. Goodrich with the breakfast dishes.
Now, as she poured Bill a second cup of coffee, Elizabeth tried to reassure him one more time. “If Jules Hartwick said it’s nothing serious, I don’t see why you don’t believe him.”
Bill sighed heavily. “I wish it were that simple. But everything was all set. I mean, everything, right down to the wrecking ball day before yesterday—”
“Which was mostly ceremonial,” Elizabeth reminded him. “It’s not like you’re tearing the whole building down. You told me yourself the ball was mostly for show.”
“It was still the beginning,” Bill groused. “I’m telling you, Elizabeth, I just have a bad feeling about this.”
“Well, you’ll know in another twenty minutes,” Elizabeth told him, glancing at the clock. “It’ll be all right, I know it.” She heaved herself up from the table, suppressing a groan. “This has to be the heaviest baby in history. It feels like it weighs forty pounds.”
Bill slipped an arm around her, and together they walked to the front door. “See you in an hour or so,” he said. He kissed her distractedly and was just reaching for the doorknob when the bell rang. He opened the door to the mailman, standing on the porch, holding a large package. “Another present, Charlie?” he asked. “Is this one for Christmas, or the new baby?”
The mailman smiled. “Hard to say. Christmas is only a couple of weeks away, and the package just says McGuire. Take your pick, I guess. Don’t weigh too much, for whatever that’s worth.”