come in hopes of taking home a particular child. If Mr. Lowell is the person to speak with, then I certainly am.” Lily pinned on a smile to up her chances of making it past the entry.
“Well, c’mon then.” The woman waved her in and reset the bolt. Its metallic screech prickled the roots of Lily’s chignon. Securing children inside for their safety was obviously a practical measure—yet equally suited for a prison.
Lily was escorted down a hall, past doorways that afforded glimpses of two classrooms with bookshelves, blackboards, and American flags. A third room appeared to be for playing, equipped with building blocks and other small toys piled near a wooden rocking horse, its mane of yarn frayed from use.
Aside from the building’s faint scent of leather, the interior barely resembled a factory. In fact, for an orphanage, it seemed a rather pleasant setting.
At the fourth and final door, the guide held up a finger, a signal to wait. She poked her head into the room, her speech indecipherable from behind.
Lily caught the sounds of children somewhere in the vicinity. She strained to listen—not that she would know Calvin by ear—and battled a desire to sneak off in a search.
“Please, come in.” The man’s greeting turned her toward the office. “I’m Frederick Lowell, the director here.” He rose from his desk, its surface eclipsed by papers and folders, much like the chief’s but set in neat stacks. On the wall to the right, a corkboard even displayed scraps and notes in an organized fashion.
As Lily entered, Mr. Lowell gestured toward a pair of visitors’ chairs, and the escort disappeared. “Do make yourself comfortable,” he said.
She thanked him while they took their seats, and noticed a framed photograph above the window behind him. The woman in the portrait, perhaps the founder of the home, stared down with beady eyes. “I appreciate you seeing me unannounced, especially so late in the day.”
“Well, I admit, we do usually meet by appointment, which should explain my rather shabby appearance.”
Lily smiled and shook her head to dispel the claim. His reference to a lack of suit jacket, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, were easily offset by his smart plaid bow tie and peppered hair, kept as sleek as his pencil mustache. Except for a crooked nose from being broken at least once, he was rather handsome for his age of around sixty. “Sir, the reason I’m here today is to seek out a child.”
“Yes. Mildred said as much. That’s just the kind of news I look forward to hearing. Of course…I presume you and your husband have thought this well through.” The ending inflection implied a need for confirmation. But it was the entirety of his statement that revealed his misconception of her intent, as well as her status. Her travel gloves, after all, concealed the absence of a ring—like the one from Clayton.
Strangely now, her single motherhood failed to spark the tiniest bit of shame.
“I’m afraid I need to clarify. You see, just yesterday I learned that the son of a friend was brought here by mistake. I’d be more than willing to present you with a long, detailed explanation if needed, but the short of it, Mr. Lowell, is that he belongs with his real mother.”
The director showed no amazement at all. A signal of understanding, Lily prayed, versus that of a common occurrence. “And which boy might that be?”
“Calvin Dillard.” She suddenly realized a new name could have been forced upon him, as had been done with Ruby. “That was his birth name, rather. He was dropped off two months ago. I have a picture right here.” She unclasped her purse to produce his photo from the newspaper when the director flitted his hand.
“No need for that. I’m very familiar with young Calvin.”
“So, you…do have him?” Lily worked to restrain her hopes, an impossible task with Mr. Lowell’s mouth curving upward.
“Yes,” he said. “Well…we did. Until he was placed in a home.”
The ground, solid just a moment before, opened beneath Lily. She felt herself falling through. Why ever are you smiling? she screamed in her head, unable to utter a word.
He reined in his expression, as if hearing her thoughts. “I assure you, he’s with loving, God-fearing people. Their two sons are grown and gone on to other adventures, leaving the couple in the perfect position to raise another child.”
The description brought Lily no comfort. The Millstones had sounded just as impressive until she took a closer look.