“I think it’s only fair to pay a modest fee for room and board, especially if we’re working,” Nancy offered.
“Thank you, ladies. Though I wish it wasn’t necessary, your suggestion of some type of payment would be greatly appreciated. A small contribution would go a long way to offset our expenses.” Ruth rose from her seat to walk behind the chairs. “The other issue looming over our heads is the upcoming city council meeting.”
As much as she disliked bringing up the topic, she knew the girls had been worried about the possibility of having to close the home. They deserved full transparency about the matter.
“I’m fairly confident that the council will see the pettiness of Mr. Simmons’s petition and allow us to continue our operation here. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that we may have to close. In that event, I plan to find another location for Bennington Place. I have an agent scouting potential sites outside the city limits.”
“That could take months. Where would we go in the meantime?” Monica asked.
Ruth held back a sigh, hating the fear on the girls’ faces. “I’m not sure, but we will figure something out. I promise.”
Several of the girls frowned, and murmurs went around the room.
Cherise got to her feet. “I, for one, will follow wherever you and Olivia go, if you’ll allow me. At least until I can earn enough to move out.”
“I appreciate your loyalty, Cherise.” Ruth smiled, still amazed by the woman’s complete turnaround from streetwalker to churchgoer and staunch supporter of all the women at Bennington Place. “You’re welcome to stay as long as we have the room.”
“Well, I don’t want to move out of the city.” Margaret’s lip wobbled. “It will be too hard to commute to my job, especially if the streetcar doesn’t go that far.”
“I agree.” Monica sighed. “I just hope it doesn’t come down to that.”
Nancy and Patricia both nodded, grim looks on their faces.
Ruth looked at each resident in turn. “I understand if the uncertainty is too much for you and you wish to find different accommodations. Just know you’re all part of our family and will always be welcome.” Ruth cleared her throat. “In the meantime, I ask for your prayers to help us discern the Lord’s will for Bennington Place. And on that note, for those of you who wish to attend church with us this morning, we should be on our way.”
As the women trailed somberly from the room, Olivia came over to give Ruth a warm hug. “I know that was difficult. But I’m sure everything will work out.”
Ruth squeezed Olivia’s hand. “I pray you’re right, my dear, because right now the odds certainly seem stacked against us.”
39
Darius sat in the back pew of St. Michael’s, biding his time until the morning Mass was over. It wasn’t so different from his own church, except they spoke Latin instead of Greek. When he’d realized a service was in progress, he slipped in the rear door, hoping to see if Salvatore was present. From the back of the cathedral, Darius peered at the robed men near the altar, fairly certain that the taller of the priests was indeed Salvatore Rosetti.
At the end of the Mass, after most of the people had filed out, Darius walked down the aisle toward Sal, who stood in his flowing vestments, talking to a parishioner. When the woman moved on, the priest looked up and caught sight of Darius.
“Hello,” he said with a surprised smile. “Mr. Reed, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, but please call me Darius.”
“It’s nice to see you. Is Olivia with you?”
“No, she’s not. I was hoping to talk to you, if you have a few minutes.”
A slightly puzzled expression came over the man’s face, but he nodded. “I have some time now. Follow me.”
His heart beating a tad too fast, Darius trailed the priest through a side door into a hallway that led to some offices. Sal entered one of them and gestured for Darius to take a seat.
The room was dark and somber. A bookcase of religious materials lined one wall, while several framed pictures of saints adorned the other. Darius sat down and waited while Sal got comfortable behind the desk.
“What can I do for you, Darius? I presume this has something to do with my sister.” Though Sal’s smile was friendly enough, his expression remained somewhat guarded. Maybe he could sense Darius’s trepidation.
“It does, yes.” Darius shifted on the creaky chair, suddenly unsure of his right to be here. “There’s something I need your help with.” He inhaled and let out a breath. “I believe it would bring Olivia some peace of mind to know what became of her son. He’s likely been adopted by now, but if we could only find out how he’s doing . . .” Darius trailed off, the man’s frown not inspiring much confidence.
“From what I understand,” Sal said, “adoption records are sealed. The agency doesn’t usually give out that type of information to anyone.”
“I know they won’t talk to me, but I was hoping that with your connection to the child and with the weight of your profession in your favor, you might be able to get some news about him.” He leaned forward. “I’m certain it would mean the world to Olivia to know that her son is with a good family.”
Sal sat back in his chair, studying Darius. “Did my sister ask you to come here?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Then may I ask what your intention is in doing this?” The priest’s eyes narrowed.
Darius swallowed, the collar of his shirt suddenly too tight. The Spanish Inquisition couldn’t have been much worse than this. “I simply want to help her heal from the pain of her past, if that’s at all possible.”
“I sense there’s more to it than that. Something more personal, perhaps?” One dark brow rose.
The man was astute, Darius would give him that. “I care very deeply for Olivia. And I
