Part 22 (1/2)
”What made them suitable?” I finally looked directly at her. ”How were they matched up with Destiny?”
”They were available and they agreed to adopt her.”
”That's it? Nothing more?”
”They were screened, of course. Once the couple came forward, there was procedure to be followed. Father O'Malley interviewed the father and mother several times. I accompanied him to their house for these visits.”
”Were there any other couples available, other than the Greaves, who wanted to adopt Destiny?”
”Not that I recall.”
”Did you ever see Destiny again after that first visit?”
”Of course. I made several follow-up visits to the Greaves' home. It was my duty to a.s.sist the family in making a smooth transition.”
Smooth transition, ha, I wanted to yell. Ripping a child away from everyone and everything she knew couldn't possibly have been smoothed over by a couple of afternoon socials. I checked my temper before I spoke.
”At those visits, how did Destiny seem to you?”
For the briefest moment, the Sister looked embarra.s.sed.
”I really couldn't say. She rarely joined in on our visits, so I didn't see much of her. She was a very independent child.”
Try sad and alone and four-years-old, not independent, I wanted to shout at this woman who probably could not hear.
”You went on these visits to help Destiny adjust to the Greaves family, yet you never saw her?”
Talk about saved by the bell. It rang and the older woman never had a chance to answer that question.
”I must be going now, Miss Ashe. Thank you for stopping by.” She stood up from behind her desk and escorted me into the hall and back to the building's main entrance.
”Just a minute, Sister Margaret. I have one more question....”
Behind me, children were shuffling papers and closing books, readying themselves to bolt out into the hallways.
”Can you tell me the name of the Sister who handled Destiny's first adoption a” when the Kenwoods adopted her as an infant?”
Her face lost what little color it had.
Nervously, she glanced around to see if anyone was near.
”I don't know what you're talking about,” she stammered.
”Look,” I said deepening my voice to its lowest octave, ”I know everything. The grandmother told me Destiny was adopted and she also told me St. Peter's handled both adoptions. I also know you, or Father O'Malley, or whoever in G.o.d's name was in charge, never told the Greaves that their adopted daughter was being adopted for the second time. I know all this for fact, and if I were really nasty, I would guess you never let Destiny see her grandmother again because you didn't want her new family to find out they had damaged goods. I don't mean to be rude, but I intend to stand here until you give me that name.”
I planted myself firmly near a pint-sized drinking fountain.
At this slight threat, she collapsed.
”Her name is Frances Green, but she's not well. You should leave her in peace.”
”Where can I find her?”
”I don't know.”
I raised one eyebrow and tried to look menacing.
”Really, I don't know. She left the convent several years ago and broke all ties with the church. I a.s.sure you, she's not well.”
By then, children in color-coordinated uniforms were running past us at break-neck speed. Over their heads, I thanked her for her time. Relieved to see me go, she slowly threaded her way back to her office.
Chapter 20.
The next morning, I once again called the archdiocese, using a different voice and story. At the rate I was going, I was tempted to enter their number into my speed-dial phone.
A volunteer there graciously gave me Frances Green's home phone number, and I promptly put the information to use. The ex-nun herself wasn't home, but after listening to my lengthy explanation, the woman who answered her phone told me where I could find her.
Without wasting any time, I drove straight to Kennedy Golf Course. At the driving range, I easily spotted Frances Green because she was the only woman.
I must say she looked quite well to me. She was tan, fit, and dressed in dapper golf duds. She had a small, athletic body and her gray hair was cut Marine-style in a short buzz.
Her swing wasn't too shabby, either.
”Ms. Green a”” I approached her.
”Fran,” her deep voice boomed.
”Fran, I'm Kristin Ashe. I'm a friend of Destiny Greaves. You probably don't remember her a””
”Course I do,” she interrupted.
”You handled her adoption to the Kenwood family, right?”
”Yep. My first client. Why do you want to know?”
I took a few minutes to explain how and why Destiny had hired me to look into her past.
”I hope you don't mind my coming out here. Sister Margaret Kincaid gave me your name, and your roommate told me I could find you here.”
”Surprised the old girl remembers my name. Haven't seen Sister Margaret in years.”
”Good one!” I exclaimed as one of her b.a.l.l.s soared past the two hundred yard marker.
”Why don't you join me?” She gestured expansively. ”My treat. Seniors get two free buckets of b.a.l.l.s every Wednesday and Thursday morning.”
”No, really, thank you. I don't golf. Tennis is more my game.”