David Hosp - Next of Kin

DAVID HOSP

MACMILLAN

For my family.

Writing about characters who go through the world alone makes me appreciate my own family even more.

PROLOGUE

1966

Winter came to New Hampshire early. By Thanksgiving the ground was dusted with an inch of loose, dry snow, the kind easily whipped into funnel clouds as the wind howled across the open fields leading to the Connecticut River.

The hospital stood at the edge of the river, looming out, its great gothic turrets defiant against the elements. It was an enormous stone structure, ill-suited to its purpose: impossible to keep warm and unlikely to provide comfort. And yet they came. In an endless stream, sent by dishonored families and desperate lovers, young and frightened and alone; it seemed nothing could stop them.

Emily heard the first scream shortly after midnight. A shriek of terror and agony echoing off the stone floors. She waited, eyes closed. One minute. Two. Three.

The scream came again, louder this time, panicked and desperate. Please! Somebody help me! Oh God, Im bleeding! Somebody please help me!

Emily opened her eyes and rolled to her side. She switched on the light next to the bed, checked the clock, shook the sleep from her head. Rising, she retrieved the dress from the chair next to her bed, pulled it over her head and looped a white smock around her neck, tying it to her waist. She could hear the pitiful sobs coming from down the hallway. For goodness sake, Im coming, she muttered as she walked out of the room.

Emily knew who it was. Shed watched the one called Lizzie at dinner. Her movements were slow and deliberate, and she was shifting uncomfortably in her chair, her eyes downcast and worried. Her belly had descended. Emily recognized the signs.

She walked into the room and flipped the light switch next to the door. Each tiny dorm room had two beds, which were always full. Lizzie was sitting up, her back against two pillows, her knees pulled up under her armpits. Her sobs were now silent, rhythmic gasps, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Oh God, please help me, she whispered.

Youll be fine, Emily said. Her tone was cold, and she felt a pang of guilt; after midnight her bedside manner suffered.

She walked over and lifted up the bottom of the girls nightgown. It was pink with a silk hemline. Embroidered into the silk, white rabbits chased each other in an endless circle. Lizzie was no older than fifteen. Even in agony, though, she was beautiful. Most of them were. That was what got them into trouble.

Its time, Emily said. She looked at the girl in the other bed, who was watching with fascination. Her belly, too, was low, and Emilys intuition told her that she would be the next to go, perhaps even later in the day. She couldnt remember the second girls name, not that it mattered; the names were fake. All the girls were given fake names when they arrived. That was the point, after all.

Lizzie screamed again. Oh, God, it hurts! Why does it hurt so much?

God punishes evil, Emily said. It was cruel, but it was what she believed, and it was after midnight. It will be all right. She didnt bother to infuse her voice with sympathy she didnt feel. I have to get the doctor. She looked over at the second girl, and was tempted to tell her to hold Lizzies hand. The second girl didnt seem the type to give sympathy easily, though. Emily supposed she had problems of her own. Ill be back shortly, Emily said. Keep her calm; everything will be fine.

As Emily walked away down the hallway, Lizzie screamed again, this time louder. Emily quickened her pace.

Lizzie opened her eyes. It took a moment for her to remember where she was; then it came flooding back, drowning her. She tried to turn so she could see the tiny window in between the beds, but her body shrieked in pain, and she lay still. Judging from the shadows on the far wall, the sun was almost down. It was late afternoon.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see that the girl in the bed next to hers was gone. She was glad of that; the two of them didnt get along well. Looking down, her feet were visible for the first time in months. Her belly had popped; the huge, round, heavy balloon shed carried for so long deflating, leaving her empty. She tried to speak, but her throat was dry and the effort was agony. She swallowed twice and tried again.

Is anyone there? It came out as a croak.

She sensed movement at the doorway. Whispering shadows. One of them said, Go fetch Sister Emily.

Please, is anyone there? Lizzie called again. There was no answer, and the shadows pulled away from the threshold.

A moment later, Emily came into the room, a whirlwind of German efficiency and Irish judgment. She walked over to Lizzie and picked a glass of water off the bedside table. There was a straw in the glass and she fed it into Lizzies mouth. Lizzie drank, in spite of the pain, and realized how thirsty she was as the water spread through her. After half a glass, she let the straw fall from her lips. What happened? she asked.

It was a breach, Emily said. That makes it much more difficult. She put the glass down on the table. You had the doctor worried. You lost a lot of blood.

Lizzie tried to turn again, but it felt as though her neck were held in a vise. My head hurts, she said.

Thats normal, Emily said. They had to use the ether to knock you out. It takes a while to wear off. Youll have a headache for a couple of days. She looked down at the rest of Lizzies body, a frown tugging at her lips, and Lizzie felt violated. Youll feel uncomfortable in other ways, too. She picked up the glass again and offered it, but Lizzie shook her head.

Lizzies lips trembled. What happened to my baby?

Emily put the water back down on the table and stood. She flattened her smock with her hands against her thighs, straightening her back. Thats none of your concern, now, is it?

Lizzie felt the tears running down her cheeks. It is my concern, she said quietly.

Not anymore. The baby is better off with a family that can take care of it. With a real mother, who isnt wicked. Thats what everyone agreed.

I never agreed.

You didnt have to.

Is my baby okay?

The babys fine. But it isnt yours.

Lizzies head pounded. She worked to catch her thoughts, but they slipped just out of her grasp. Please, she begged. Is it a boy or a girl?

Emily folded her arms across her chest. Why do you want to know? You can never be a part of its life, you understand. You signed the papers. You agreed.

I know, Lizzie said. Its just that...

Its easier this way, child. You dont understand how lucky you are. It will be as if this never happened at all. You can go back to your life. You can make something of yourself. You can be a good girl now. You should be thankful; not everyone in your situation gets to wipe the slate clean.

Please! Lizzie cried. It felt as though her head had shattered, but she didnt care anymore. Is it a boy or a girl?

Emily uncrossed her arms, then crossed them again. Lizzie could read the indecision on her face. It was a boy, Emily said after a moment.

A boy, Lizzie repeated. She pushed herself up on her elbows, fighting the pain, until she was able to lean back on the pillow, inclined slightly. I want to see him.

No. Emily shook her head; there was no hesitation this time. You cant.

I want to see my baby! Lizzie screamed. Her anguish reverberated off the stone walls, echoing down the corridors until it was lost. Let me see my baby!