A Haven for Her Heart Page 5

  Phantom pain shot through Olivia’s body, the words conjuring up the tortures that took place in that medical room. Had they done something worse to Mabel? Had their so-called treatments caused the girl’s death? Mabel had been only nineteen and had given birth just after Olivia had come to the reformatory. Still, Mabel had never lost her cheery disposition, always quick to tell a joke or offer a sympathetic ear. She’d been looking forward to starting her life over at the end of her sentence. Now all her dreams had ended before they’d begun.

  Olivia’s jaw muscles tightened as she fought back tears. Crying solved nothing, especially not in here. With every rapid blink, anger seeped through her body until her limbs shook. “It’s not right what they’re doing here,” she said in a low voice so the guard couldn’t hear. “We don’t belong in a place like this. Yes, we made mistakes, but we still deserve somewhere safe to go. Somewhere we wouldn’t have to worry about people hurting us or taking our babies.”

  Joannie swiped at her red nose with the sleeve of her uniform. “I wish a place like that existed.”

  Staring into the girl’s tearstained face, something fierce came alive inside Olivia. Something stronger and more intense than her anger. Olivia had escaped this house of horrors, but the women still caged within these walls continued to suffer. These women needed somewhere else to go. A place where people understood what they were going through and treated them with kindness. But how would one begin to bring about such a change?

  With great effort, she focused back on Joannie. “When is your release date again?”

  “September twenty-fifth.”

  “Where will you go? Have you had any word from your family?”

  Joannie shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. “They don’t want anything to do with me. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  In spite of the rules, Olivia reached over and squeezed Joannie’s fingers. “Don’t worry. I’ll have somewhere for you to stay by then. In the meantime . . .” Olivia dug in her purse and pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil and quickly scratched down some information. “Here’s the telephone number where I’m staying. If you need me, just call.” She swallowed. “I’ll try to come back for another visit soon.”

  “Thanks. It will give me something to look forward to.” Joannie’s eyes seemed huge in her thin face.

  Olivia rose and went around to pull the girl into a tight hug. “Don’t lose hope. Things will get better, I promise.”

  A frowning guard came toward them. “No touching the prisoner.”

  Olivia stepped back but did not apologize. “Say hello to the others for me. And tell them not to give up. Time will pass quicker than you think.”

  She brushed past the guard on her way out into the corridor. Though every cell in her body urged her to flee this place, her conscience would not allow her to take the cowardly way out. Instead, she marched to the front office.

  The startled receptionist snapped to attention as Olivia entered. “Can I help you, miss?”

  “No, thank you. I know the way.” Before the woman could stop her, Olivia strode to the inner office door and entered without knocking.

  Mrs. Pollack looked up, a scowl marring her plain features. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Olivia’s hands shook, but she stood her ground. “I need to speak with you.”

  “You have some nerve barging in here like—”

  “After everything I went through in this place, you owe me this much.”

  The woman’s face blanched, though she held Olivia’s gaze with a steely glare of her own. “You have two minutes to say your piece and leave. Or I’ll call the authorities.”

  As the woman intended, the words sent chills through Olivia’s limbs. She lifted her chin. “I want to know the truth about Mabel Stravinski’s death.”

  Mrs. Pollack’s mouth hardened. The loud ticking of a clock on the beige wall seemed to taunt Olivia. She used to stare at the same industrial clock across from her cell when seconds passed like hours. Back then, time meant nothing, but now the ticking reminded her of the days she’d lost and would never recover.

  At last, the woman released a breath. “Mabel was being treated for the advanced stages of venereal disease. During treatment, she suffered a massive seizure, and Dr. Guest was unable to revive her.”

  Olivia stared. “Did you call an ambulance? Get her to a hospital?”

  “There wasn’t time. It all happened too fast.” She spoke with no emotion, as if Mabel’s life meant nothing. “I’m sorry. I know this must have come as a shock.”

  Rage pulsed through Olivia, shooting pain through her temples. “Don’t pretend you’re not aware of what goes on in that clinic and the horrors that woman puts us through. How can you allow her to get away with it?”

  “Dr. Guest is a well-respected physician. I will not allow you to malign her reputa—”

  Olivia slammed her palm down on the desk, causing papers to scatter. “Have you heard the screams coming from her examination room? Have you ever once visited the isolation chamber where I was kept for over a month? That dirty, disgusting room with only rusty bedsprings to lie on when I was writhing in pain for days?”

  A spark of fear leapt in the woman’s pale eyes.

  Olivia gave a harsh laugh. “No, of course not. You wouldn’t want to witness what goes on behind those doors, because then you might have to actually do something about it.” She straightened and drew in a ragged breath. “How can you live with yourself for allowing such atrocities to happen? I hold all of you here equally responsible for Mabel’s death.” She glared at her for another second, then whirled around and strode out into the reception area.

  “Miss Rosetti. Wait.”

  But Olivia had borne all she could take for one day. She slammed out the main doors and didn’t look back.

  5

  After getting off the bus, Olivia walked the remaining blocks to Ruth’s house, her mind still spinning. As the buildings passed in a blur, her anger lessened, and her focus turned to solutions. It was too late for dear Mabel but not for other girls who might find themselves in trouble. If they had somewhere to turn before being arrested for vagrancy, or for being unmarried and pregnant like Olivia, or for resorting to criminal activities to feed themselves, perhaps their futures wouldn’t look so bleak.

  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 ma
y 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 her, but Olivia shoved her misgivings aside. “How would one go about finding such a property? Would I require a real estate agent?”

  “There’s no need for that.” The firm voice rang out from the doorway.

  Olivia swiveled to see Ruth staring at them, her eyes brighter than her blue cardigan. “Why would you need to rent a property when we have the perfect location right here?”

  Olivia gaped at her. “Ruth, I never meant to imply . . .” Surely she wasn’t offering her own home for such a purpose.

  Ruth came in and perched on the arm of the sofa. “I used to think about turning this place into a boardinghouse or a small inn, but I do believe a maternity home would be the perfect idea.” She trilled out a delighted laugh. “What do you say, Olivia? Do you think we could be partners in this endeavor?”

  Olivia’s mind spun with too many thoughts at once. “This is all very sudden. I only came up with the idea this afternoon. Are you sure, Ruth?”

  “Olivia makes a valid point.” Dr. Henshaw rose, a frown creasing his brow. “I think you should take more time to consider the ramifications before you make any big decisions.”

  Ruth only laughed again and waved a hand. “At my age, time is a luxury I can ill afford. And for the first time in years, I’d have a purpose again. No, I don’t need another minute to think about it. But I would appreciate you looking into the legalities for us, Doctor.”

  He blinked, looking as bemused as Olivia felt. “Very well, as long as you promise not to rush into anything before you hear from me.”

  “Certainly, though it couldn’t hurt to talk to my architect about some possible renovations.”

  Olivia could scarcely believe that Ruth would offer her home for a project of this magnitude. Yet what better property could she find on her own?

  And who better to have on board? A woman who had experienced the shame of an unexpected pregnancy but who now held a place of prestige and respect in society. Her connections could turn out to be most advantageous in getting this project off the ground. It must be a sign that this was God’s intention all along.

  Ruth turned to Olivia. “I think we’ll make an excellent team, my dear. Don’t you?”

  Olivia smiled as a tiny bud of hope unfurled within her. “I do believe we just might.”

  6

  Two months later

  Seated in the dining room one week after the successful opening of Bennington Place Maternity Home, Olivia sipped her coffee and took a moment to reflect on the whirlwind mixture of highs and lows that had taken place over the past two months.

  One of the highs, of course, was the realization of her dream, the opening of the maternity home. It had been a day to remember, with a fancy ribbon-cutting ceremony and refreshments for the select group of invitees who had attended.

  Not long afterward, however, Olivia had experienced one of her worst lows on the occasion of Matteo’s first birthday. She spent most of the day crying, reliving every moment of the precious time with her newborn son, and the heartbreak of having to relinquish him to the Children’s Aid worker. She couldn’t help but wonder where he was now. Had his new family thrown him a party? Bought him presents?

  In the midst of Olivia’s melancholy, Ruth had been wonderful. She had instructed their cook to bake a small cake in the boy’s honor, and after dinner that night, Ruth had placed a candle on top of the cake, and the two had celebrated Matteo’s special day. Remembering her son that way had helped Olivia feel closer to him and eased the raw ache in her heart just a little.

  With a sigh, Olivia shook off the sad memories and looked across the table at Ruth. Gratitude filled her heart. Gratitude and . . . affection for the woman who had accepted a stranger into her home without judgment or condemnation.

  Olivia might not have wanted to be Ruth’s salvation, but Ruth had definitely turned out to be hers. She’d saved Olivia from the ashes of destruction and breathed new life into her soul, giving her the opportunity to turn her
hardships into something that could benefit others.

  “I still can’t believe Bennington Place has become a reality,” Olivia said. “And that we already have two residents.”

  Since their official opening one week ago, two women had found their way to them: Margaret, a young girl of eighteen, and Patricia, a woman in her mid-twenties.

  “I know. And it’s only the beginning.” Ruth reached over to squeeze Olivia’s hand. “I’ve been rattling around this old house by myself for years now. Despite several offers to buy the property, I just couldn’t let it go.” She smiled, her gaze scanning the dining room’s velvet wallpaper. “Perhaps I was meant to put the house to good use and allow its loving walls to shelter those in need.” She pressed her lips together. “I think Henry would have agreed that Bennington Place is a fine idea.”

  “I’m sure he would.”

  Over the past weeks, Olivia had discovered that Ruth Bennington was a force to be reckoned with once she put her mind to something. She’d jumped right into making renovations to the house, hiring a contractor to add a new bathroom and reconfigure the layout of the bedrooms to make more room for potential residents. They now had six guest quarters with two beds each to start, plus a nice suite for Olivia. Still, it had involved a large outlay of money—one she hoped Ruth wouldn’t regret should the venture not go as planned. But the dear lady had assured her it was a risk she was willing to take.

  “By the way, I’ve heard back from Dr. Henshaw,” Ruth said, stirring sugar into her coffee. “He’s agreed to be our doctor on call and is willing to offer his services for a small fee.”

  “That’s wonderful. I know he’ll treat the women with kindness.” Just like he treated me. “But will he have time with working at the hospital as well as seeing his private patients?”

  “He’ll make time. Mark Henshaw is a remarkable young man. Not only is he raising his younger brother, he also volunteers his services to those living in the Ward.”

  “That is impressive.” Olivia knew the area well. Her parents thanked God every day that they hadn’t ended up in those slums like so many other immigrants.