Kathy seemed worried, but Rachel hardly heard her. She was more concerned about meeting Steven.
“When do we see the boy?” she asked eagerly.
“The children are just finishing lunch,” Kathy said. “He’ll be brought out shortly.”
They entered the office, where Kathy offered them seats. She sat behind a desk, took out a folder, and opened it.
“Steven’s been with us for three days,” she read. “We don’t have a last name on him. I don’t know how much Nina told you . . .”
“I know he’s lost his memory,” Rachel offered. “And I know he’s nine or ten years old.”
“That’s correct,” Kathy said. “He’s a quiet, shy boy, but I have a feeling there’s quite a little mind inside that head. Keeping him in an institutional setting is wrong. Nina was adamant that we move him as soon as possible.”
Eric leaned forward, folding his hands on the desktop.
“Just a question,” he said. “Doesn’t it usually take a long time to process these children? Don’t we have to go through some kind of screening?”
“Nina recommended you highly,” Kathy said. “That would be good enough for me. And since it is only temporary, I see no reason to make a big production out of it.”
She shoved a paper across the desk. “Now, let’s see about signing these forms . . .”
Rachel thought the session would never end. She didn’t care about forms or legal mumbo jumbo. She only cared about meeting her new “son.” At last there was a knock on the door and a grandmotherly woman poked her head in.
“Steven’s ready,” she said. “Everything okay in here?”
“Bring him in, Dorothy,” Kathy said.
The door opened farther and in stepped a wisp of a boy. His hair was a little too short, indicating it had been freshly cut. Small hips did nothing to keep his pants up around his waist, and a thin line of white underwear showed over the waistband. He wore a neon-print T-shirt and seemed to be completely absorbed in his red high-top sneakers, because he never took his eyes off them.
“Come on in, Steven,” Kathy said. “Don’t be afraid. I want you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Freleng.”
“Hi, Steven,” Rachel said, encouragement in her voice.
“H’lo,” Steven mumbled.
He was a handsome child, she noted, with large brown eyes and a small straight nose. His skin was coffee-and-cream-colored like her own. Maybe, if she’d had a son, he might have looked just like Steven.
“We’d like you to stay with us for a while,” Rachel said.
“I think you’ll enjoy living with the Frelengs,” Kathy said. “Would you like them to take care of you until your family comes for you?”
Steven nodded eagerly. Then suddenly he ran to Rachel and threw his arms around her waist. Rachel hugged him back, looking over him at Eric. She was smiling like a woman who had just found a long-lost son.
Eric turned to Kathy.
“If all the papers are in order,” he said, “then we’d like to take Steven home.”
“We sure would,” Rachel said with an eager nod.
Kathy smiled. “You’re all set. We’ll be calling you in a day or so to check up on your progress. And of course, if anything turns up regarding his identification, we’ll call immediately.”
“Of course,” Eric said.
Kathy wished them luck, and soon they were on their way. Steven sat in the front seat between Eric and Rachel. Rachel kept an arm across the back of the seat, as if to protect the young boy.
“I’m so excited,” she said, her gray-green eyes sparkling. “We’re going to have so much fun together.”
“You bet,” Eric agreed. “We’ve got a huge backyard, and there are lots of kids your age in the neighborhood.”
Rachel looked up at her husband.
“One thing at a time, Eric,” she said. “Steven doesn’t need to be bombarded with other kids.”
“I’d like to make new friends,” Steven said in a soft voice.
“So you can talk,” Eric teased.
Rachel shot him a dirty look, but he was too busy watching the road to notice. A short time later they pulled up in the driveway of their house. Two little faces were peering through the beveled-glass door. As soon as Eric stopped the car, the door swung wide open and the girls came running out.
“What’s your name?” Tati asked Steven as he exited the car. “How old are you? Do you know how to play baseball?”
“Tati, let him get settled in before you bombard him!” Rachel cried.
“I know his name is Steven,” Olivia said. “You forgot, Tati.”
“I did not!” Tati protested. “I just wanted to hear him say it!”
Steven watched all this with huge eyes. It was not exactly a look of fear, but there was apprehension in his face. He felt Rachel’s reassuring hand on his shoulder and moved a step closer to her.
“Don’t let Tati overwhelm you,” Rachel said with a laugh. “She’s just very excited to meet you. Tatiana, Olivia, this is Steven.”
“Hi, Steven,” Olivia said politely.
“You have a nice haircut,” Tati said, pointing.
Olivia pushed her sister’s hand down firmly.
“Don’t point.”
Steven ran his fingers through his dark hair.
“I think it’s too short,” he said softly.
“It’s just fine,” Rachel said. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s been a long morning and you must be exhausted.”
“Ten-year-old boys don’t get exhausted. Rachel,” Eric pointed out. “Do you want to play baseball, like my daughter suggested?”
“I don’t really like baseball,” Steven admitted.
“But I’ll bet you’d like a nice cold drink,” Rachel said. “We have a cook, Helga, who makes wonderful lemonade.”
“Okay,” Steven said.
Steven’s eyes wandered in a hundred different directions as they passed through the house. His mouth hung open in amazement to see the beautiful antique furniture and stone fireplace. There was a huge harp in one corner of the living room, and a grand piano set to the other side. Noticing it had caught his attention, Rachel said:
“I understand you play, Steven.”
“I like music,” Steven said.
“You can use any instrument in the house,” Eric said, “as long as you respect it.”
“You never let me touch the harp!” Tatiana protested.
“That’s because you just yank on the strings,” Olivia said.
Eric put a hand on each girl’s shoulder and steered them toward the kitchen.
“We can talk about this later,” he said. “Right now, a cold drink sounds good to me too.”
In the kitchen Helga was listening to a country/western station. The sight of this blond braided woman singing a Judd’s tune in a German accent was amusing. Steven watched her in fascination as he drank his glass of lemonade.
“Helga enjoys singing,” Rachel said with a slight air of apology in her voice.
“And what is wrong with that?” Helga asked. “It is good music.”
A new song came on. Steven turned to the radio, then said, “That’s Tammy Wynette.”
“Do you like country music?” Eric asked.
“I like all kinds of music,” Steven said. “I play classical most of all, though.”
“Maybe you could play for us,” Rachel suggested.
Steven pushed his chair back from the kitchen table. Without a word, he turned and hurried from the room.
“Now you’ve scared him,” Eric said. “Kids don’t like being put on the spot like that.”
Rachel glared at her husband.
“I did not put him on the spot,” she said. “And don’t tell me what kids like, as if I don’t know anything about them. The girls are my—”
Her words were cut off by the sounds of the Moonlight Sonata being played so flawlessly that all of them were rendered speechless. When the music stopped, Eric and Rachel sat staring at each
other.
“My God,” Eric whispered, “how can a child play like that?”
Rachel nodded. “Nina wasn’t joking when she said he was musically gifted.”
Helga, who had stopped in the middle of washing dishes to listen, said, “It will be a pleasure to hear such music. I’m glad that the boy is staying.”
Tatiana jumped from her chair, racing from the room.
“I want to hear something else!” she cried.
When she reached the living room, she found Steven standing behind the open piano bench going through the music. He pulled out a book of opera favorites and chose to play the “Habañera” from Carmen. It was as beautiful and perfect as the first piece he’d played. As he went through it, Eric stared at his wife. In turn, she was watching Steven carefully. There was such admiration in her eyes that Eric might have guessed Steven was her own flesh and blood, not a child who was staying with them only temporarily.
The admiration in her eyes scared him, although he really wasn’t sure why.
10
COMPLETELY SHAKEN by what had happened, Lorraine did not speak again until she and Bettina were safely locked inside the apartment. Bettina helped her wash away the dirt from the subway platform, and the warm water had a calming effect. Bits of memory had come back to her during the subway ride home, and now she told Bettina about them.
“Bettina,” she said as the woman brushed her hair, “one of those boys knew me. I remember something now. I was with a man last night. A man who had a gun. He said he was on . . .”
She paused to remember his words.
“On ‘official business,’ “ she said.
Bettina turned her around and looked at her with concern.
“He had a gun?”
“I . . . I think so,” Lorraine said. “I can sort of see him pointing something black. I think he shot someone, but I’m not sure.”
Bettina sighed. “No wonder that gang went after you.”
She wondered if the man had been the child’s father, some Mafia hoodlum who didn’t care that he put his child’s life in danger.
“Was he your father?” she asked.
Lorraine shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t remember. But he didn’t feel like my father when I remembered him. He didn’t feel like I knew him at all.”
At once Bettina’s mind changed and she imagined a kidnapper. The money in the valise was ransom! But why such a small amount? And why wasn’t there a story in the news about this?
Lorraine touched her arm. “Why do you look so worried? Are you okay?”
Bettina smiled at her. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “You know what? We need some groceries. Why don’t you take a nap on the sofa while I go to that little market on the corner?”
“But I don’t want to stay here alone, Bettina,” Lorraine said.
“I’ll be only a few minutes,” Bettina promised. “And I think you’re safer up here. What if that gang is around?”
“Please?”
“I’m sorry,” Bettina said in a firm voice. “This is best.”
She took some money, then turned and left the apartment. The sound of the clicking lock echoed in the almost empty apartment like a ghost.
Obediently Lorraine went back to the couch and climbed onto the cushions. She wasn’t tired, and bounced up and down a few times. Then she climbed up onto the back, walking across it like a tightrope. Bettina would have been amazed once more, this time by Lorraine’s sense of balance. But Lorraine was quickly bored with this. She left the couch and went to the window. She pulled aside the blinds and looked out at the street below. It was a flurry of activity, and she had fun watching all the different characters that passed by.
Though she was several stories above street level, Lorraine could clearly see the people’s faces. There were people of dark skin and people of light skin. Any one of them could be her mother or father, coming to look for her. What if they passed by without realizing she was up here?
Lorraine decided to see how many men and how many women there were. Her perception of the crowd was almost instantaneous, and she knew there were nine men and three women below. Did she know any of them? She tried to concentrate on faces, but nothing came back to her.
Discouraged, she was about to turn away from the window when a man turned the corner. He was so ordinary that the people in the street didn’t even glance his way. But something about his face, something about those dark eyes and stony features, made a sour lump congeal in Lorraine’s stomach.
She knew him. She couldn’t exactly place him, but thought he might be the man she remembered from the previous night. For some reason, he terrified her.
She dropped the blinds again and hurried to the couch. Gathering herself up into a tight little ball, she tried to put the man’s image out of her mind.
She saw him coming at her with something sharp, look-ingfor blood. She tried to move away, but found she had been strapped to a table. He was going to hurt her!
Bettina opened the door to the sound of the child’s screams.
“What’s wrong?” she cried, running to her. She took hold of her, trying to calm the hysterical little girl.
“Lorraine! Lorraine!”
Bettina’s voice helped calm Lorraine, and she gave the old woman a fierce hug.
“You were gone so long!” Lorraine cried. “I saw a man on the street, and he scared me!”
“The man from the other night?”
“I . . . I . . . I don’t know,” Lorraine stammered between sobs.
Bettina stroked her cheek.
“Slow down, child,” she said, “catch your breath.”
Lorraine concentrated on the kindly old face. It helped her forget the horrible vision she had just experienced.
“I was looking out the window,” she said, calmer now. “It was fun watching all the people. Then he came around the corner, and I felt so scared!”
Bettina seemed to understand the hurt the child was feeling. Mumbling words of consolation, she held her close and stroked her long black hair. She began to wonder more about the child’s background. Lorraine’s thoughts of someone trying to hurt her was a very telling thing regarding her loss of memory. Maybe she had been so badly abused she blocked everything from her mind as a sort of defense mechanism. Bettina did not know any psychology, but she did have a good deal of “people sense.” And she sensed this little girl had run away from a deplorable life.
“Well, sweet Lorraine,” she said, “that man will never find you up here. I have a plan.”
She let go of the child and walked to the two bags of groceries she had set down by the front door.
“I’ve stocked up on supplies,” she said. “I have eggs, cheese, milk, and bread. Lots of crackers, peanut butter and jelly, some canned vegetables and fruit, some soup. . .”
She counted things off as she pulled them out. There was even a special kid’s cereal for Lorraine’s breakfast and a few puzzles and toys.
“We’ll hide out for a while,” Bettina said, “at least until it is safe for us to leave.”
“But why?” Lorraine said. “Won’t the police come to talk to me?”
Bettina shook her head.
“They’re working very hard,” she lied, hating herself for the necessity of it, “but they feel you are safest here with me. That man you saw might want to hurt you.”
She took Lorraine by the shoulders.
“Listen to me carefully, child,” she said. “The streets are dangerous. I can’t let anything happen to you. Why, if those boys in the subway had hurt you . . .”
“They didn’t,” Lorraine said in a small voice, “but you are.”
Bettina pulled her hands away and gazed at them with a stricken expression. She hadn’t realized how tightly she was gripping Lorraine’s arms.
“I’m sorry!” she cried. “But this is so important! We have to hide out here for a while. The police will contact us when they find your family, but in the meantime we have to sta
y safe. That man on the street must never find you.”
Lorraine nodded, but she felt uneasy. Something about Bettina’s words seemed wrong, and it wasn’t just the fact that she wanted to hide out. But Lorraine decided not to let it worry her. She accepted the fact that she was safe here, away from that loathsome man on the street below.
Whoever he was, she never wanted to go back with him.
11
TATIANA SAT WITH an elbow propped on the kitchen table, her cheek resting against her fist. It was late evening, a time set aside for homework.
She pouted down at the workbook that was opened before her.
“I hate subtraction,” she grumbled. “I hate math.”
“That’s just first-grade math,” Olivia pointed out. “Wait until you’re in third grade. Then it really gets hard.”
Steven was sitting at the table too, looking through a book about the Civil War. He glanced up now.
“Maybe I can help you, Tatiana,” he said.
“Everybody calls me Tati,’ “ the little girl told him with a smile. “Okay, help me.”
Steven closed the book and turned around in his chair until he could see Helga working in the kitchen.
“Helga, do you have anything we can count?” he asked. “Like beans or raisins . . .”
“I want raisins!” Tati interrupted.
“They aren’t for eating, Tati,” Olivia said.
“Who asked you?”
Helga opened a cupboard and took down a mason jar.
“Sorry, no raisins,” she said. “I have some peas.”
She handed them to Steven.
“Just don’t make a mess,” she warned.
Steven promised they wouldn’t, and opened the jar. He dumped a small mound of peas on the table.
“We can use these for the examples,” Steven said. “What’s the first problem?”
Down the hall, in the den, Rachel looked up from the papers she was marking and said, “Isn’t that sweet? He’s helping Tati, just like a big brother.”
Eric laughed. “If he was like any big brother I’ve ever known, he’d be teasing her.”
Cries of the Children Page 6
