For the first time since her own arrest, the oppression weighing on her spirit lifted, and a new energy infused her. Though her relationship with God hadn’t been the best lately, this sudden sense of purpose seemed to be a sign from above, showing her what she needed to do.
If only she had a clue how to begin.
As she approached Ruth’s property, Dr. Henshaw stepped out of an auto parked by the curb. He smiled when he saw her. “Miss Rosetti. What good timing. I was just coming to see you.”
Olivia frowned. She’d been declared cured, her health restored. Why, then, was he here? “Good afternoon, Doctor. Are you this diligent with all your patients?” Her words held a ring of challenge.
“Only ones who deserve my extra diligence.” His hazel eyes twinkled.
“I can assure you I am in perfect health. You needn’t waste your time.” Though her tone was teasing, she kept her gaze steady. The man was charming in his own way; however, Olivia feared he might harbor hopes of a more personal relationship, one she was not interested in pursuing.
Not with any man.
They had reached Ruth’s front door, and he opened it for her, stepping aside to let her enter.
“I don’t consider a visit with you wasting my time.” He removed his hat. “The reason I’m here, though, has more to do with your emotional well-being than your physical health.”
Olivia set her purse on the hall table, then motioned the doctor into the parlor. “Has Ruth been telling tales behind my back?” she asked as they took a seat, trying not to take umbrage at his insinuation that she might be mentally unsound.
A reddish hue infused his cheeks. “Mrs. Bennington may have mentioned her concern over your inability to secure employment and how it might be affecting you.”
“I will admit it’s disheartening, though not unexpected. I have no real experience other than working in my parents’ store.” She moved an embroidered pillow out of her way. “And I have no explanation as to what I’ve been doing for the past eighteen months.”
“I can see how that might make obtaining a job difficult.”
“Difficult? Try impossible.”
His expression softened. “Are you sure you’re doing all right? It would be natural to suffer an emotional setback after all you’ve been through.”
“I’m fine, Dr. Henshaw.” Olivia gritted her teeth, regretting once again all that he had discerned about her experience at the reformatory.
“There’s no shame in—”
“I’m fine.” Olivia clasped her hands together. “I wish you and Ruth would stop treating me like I might shatter at any moment.”
His shoulders visibly stiffened. “Forgive me. I only wished to offer my assistance should you need it.” He rose from the armchair. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
Heat burned Olivia’s cheeks. The man had been nothing but kind, and she’d practically snapped his head off. She followed him into the hall. “I’m sorry, Doctor. You didn’t deserve that.”
He stopped by the front door, then slowly turned to give her a tight smile. “It’s all right. I realize you must be very frustrated.”
“That doesn’t excuse my rudeness.” She took a step toward him. “Actually, I could use your advice about something if you have a minute.”
“Certainly.” His eyes brightened as he followed her back into the parlor.
“You may not know the answer to this,” she said after they had resumed their seats. “In fact, you may think I’ve lost my mind.”
He smiled. “I’m sure I won’t.”
How could she begin to explain her idea when the very thought made her tremble? She’d planned to talk to Ruth first, but as a physician, Dr. Henshaw might be the better person to begin with. She squared her shoulders and plunged ahead. “I need to know what might be involved in opening a maternity home.”
He stared at her for a second, brows raised. “A maternity home?”
“That’s right.” She lifted her chin. “It occurred to me that the city is lacking in resources for women who find themselves in trouble. They need a safe place to go. Somewhere they feel understood and cared for.”
“By trouble, I assume you mean a pregnancy out of wedlock?”
“For the most part, yes.” Not every woman in the reformatory had been pregnant, but each one had a sad tale to tell. “It occurred to me that this could be a way to create something positive from my ordeal.”
He pursed his lips, studying her. “Opening such a home would be a huge undertaking.”
“I realize that.” Her calm tone belied the riot of nerves shooting through her body. “Would I require a permit from the city?”
“Not necessarily. Especially if you intend it to be a private maternity home. A publicly funded facility would be subject to many more regulations.”
Olivia leaned back against the sofa cushions. “But there must be some sort of rules governing a private home. Inspections? Limits on the number of residents?”
Yet the Mercer was a government-run organization, and as far as she knew, there were no inspectors keeping tabs on what went on within those walls.
“You might be right. I could look into the matter if you wish.” Interest lit his features.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” Inquiries from a respected physician would likely hold more weight than those from a woman recently released from prison. “What would the next step be?”
He stroked his chin. “Well, the first thing you would need is a site for your venture. I suppose the best bet would be to rent a property for that purpose.”
“Right.” The daunting prospect of finding real estate in the city—much less being able to afford it—threatened to overwhelm
