As Bright as Heaven(41)

“I don’t know why you took Henry,” I say. “You shouldn’t have. He was just a baby. But you gave us this child now. We’re going to give him everything we would’ve given Henry. I won’t be mad at you anymore after this.”

I start to say, “Amen,” but then I add that he needs to keep Willa safe as part of the deal. I close my eyes at that part because it seems the right thing to do.

I get out of the pew and go to the front of the church. A door to the left of the big altar leads to a hallway where all the church offices are. A woman in an emerald green dress is coming through it just as I get close.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“I need to find Mrs. Arnold. It’s important,” I reply.

“I don’t know if she’s still here, but we can check in the kitchen.” She asks my name and I tell her.

I follow the woman down a long hallway and then through the meeting hall to a large kitchen that smells like grease and soap and lemons. Two women in aprons are drying soup pots and a third woman is talking to a man holding a box of jars with towels in between to keep them from jostling. This third woman is tiny, like a little bird, but her voice and mannerisms are quick and purposeful, as though if she really did have a beak, she’d know how to poke you with it.

“Those are all for Chinatown,” the birdlike woman says. “Make sure they understand the jars need to come back tonight so we can send them out again tomorrow.” She opens a door for the man, and sunlight spills into the room as he turns and heads outside with the box. “And do be sure not to let the jars knock into each other and break!” she calls out after him. The man grunts something I can’t hear.

“Mrs. Arnold, I have a young lady here who needs to see you,” says the woman in the green dress.

Mrs. Arnold the Bird turns to me.

“This is Maggie Bright,” says the woman who’d brought me.

“Good heavens!” Mrs. Arnold blinks at me wide-eyed. “Is your mother finished already? She didn’t have to send you over with the jars. Did your mother not remember that? I have Mr. Porter coming around later today for all of them.” She looks at my empty hands. “Where are your jars?”

“We didn’t get the chance to finish handing them out,” I reply.

“We? Did your mother take you with her?” Mrs. Arnold says.

“I just kept her company while she walked down there.”

“Well, what happened? Why couldn’t your mother deliver the soup? Were the jars broken? Did the driver break her jars?”

“No,” I say. “I . . . We found a little baby near one of the houses on your list. His mother was dead inside his house. He’d been lying in his dirty diaper and crying for a long time. We brought him home with us because there was no one else there. Mama asked that I come tell you.”

“A baby? Land sakes, is your mother home with him, then? Did you notify the health services people or the Red Cross or the police?”

“I think my uncle told the police.”

“Did you show them where you found him? Do they know there’s a dead mother there?”

“I . . . uh . . . no. I came here to tell you.”

“Oh dear, oh dear. Come on, then—let’s see if we can’t find someone who knows who the child belongs to.” She brushes past me and speaks to the woman in the green dress. “We need to find my driver, Heloise. I need to get back down to South Street lickety-split.” She motions for me to follow her.

“I think he’s an orphan,” I say, rushing to keep up with them. “I don’t think he belongs to anyone.”

“I assure you another orphan is the last thing the city needs right now,” Mrs. Arnold says, glancing back at me. “He’s bound to have other family. Is his house off South Street?”

“It’s in an alley. I couldn’t remember which one when we went back.”

Mrs. Arnold stops and I nearly run into her. “What do you mean, when you went back?”

My heart skips a beat. “I mean, I’m the one who found the baby. I picked him up and took him to my mother, who was on another street visiting a lady on your list. We went back, but I couldn’t remember which alley it was. They all look alike.”

She stares at me for a second. “You found him?”

I nod.

“And how do you know he was alone in the house? How do you know his mother is dead?”

“Because I saw her.”

“Go fetch Ambrose,” Mrs. Arnold says to Heloise, who is also listening to my story. She walks away quickly. Mrs. Arnold pulls me into her bird-wing arms and hugs me. “You poor dear. We’ll figure out which house it was. Not to worry.”

“But . . . but I already tried. All the buildings look alike.”

She releases me but keeps one arm around my shoulders as we move out of the kitchen into a smaller hallway. “Yes, but not all of them have a dead mother inside, right? It’s important we let the officials know which house it is so they can take care of the body.” She takes a coat and hat off a row of pegs where other hats and coats are hanging. “And if we can find that mother, then we can see if there’s anyone nearby who knows if there are other family members, like grandparents or siblings. Maybe there’s an aunt or uncle who can take the child.”