Fortune's rocks_ a novel - Anita Shreve [117]
“You are cold,” the sister says.
Olympia is silent.
“Do you want me to fetch you a wrap? Or some tea?”
Olympia shakes her head.
“I have received permission to tell you the child’s name.”
Olympia presses her hands together as if praying and rests her chin on the tips of her fingers.
“It is Pierre,” the sister says.
And Olympia thinks, holding her breath from the shock of the name, His name is Pierre!
“But I am afraid I also have some rather disappointing news to tell you,” the sister says. She looks concerned, and Olympia freezes.
“The boy has been placed out,” the sister says.
“What does that mean?” Olympia asks.
“The boy has foster parents,” the sister explains.
“No,” Olympia says. “This cannot be.”
“I am afraid, my child, that it is.”
“No,” Olympia says with more emphasis. She places her hands upon the sister’s desk. “Surely there is some way to get him back,” she says. “Surely I can have him back? After all, he is mine. He is my flesh and blood. Surely no law can prevent me from having him.” She is unable to keep a note of desperation out of her voice.
“I am afraid that all of this happened some time ago,” the sister says softly, but with an unmistakable note of finality.
Olympia feels the blood leave her head. The sister must see this, for she asks Olympia quickly: “Will you faint?”
“Where is he?” Olympia asks, her mouth having gone dry.
The sister purses her lips and shakes her head. “I cannot tell you that,” she says. “Our policy — ”
“You must tell me,” Olympia interrupts. “Please, I have to know where he is.”
“I cannot,” she says. “I can, however, tell you that he is with a loving mother and father. I know of the persons in question, and I know that he is being well cared for.”
“Do they live here, in Ely Falls?”
“I cannot answer that,” she says. “I am sorry, but this is not really such an unusual circumstance. And if you think about this from the boy’s point of view, is it not better for him to have been all this time with a loving guardian in a warm home, with good food and a good bed, than to have lived with an unwed mother who is shamed and is perhaps too young to care for a young child?”
“I do not have shame,” Olympia says.
The sister sits back in her chair. “How impertinent you are,” she says coldly. “You come here asking for my help and I give it to you, and you dare to tell me, a mother superior of the Catholic Church, that you have not sinned? Have you no conscience, girl?”
“I have a conscience,” Olympia says evenly. “I am sorry for the harm that I have done another woman and her children. But I am not sorry that I loved or was loved. And I do not think I am too young to care for a child. I would have cared for him well even when he was born.”
“Ah, yes, but you did not, did you?” The nun smiles unkindly. “You will find that the law, as well as the church, will vigorously disagree that you are a fit person to care for an infant. An unwed mother, immoral in the eyes of society and a sinner in the eyes of God, is understood to be the least fit of all possible parents.”
“But this is not true,” Olympia says heatedly. “Would you deem a father who has raped his daughter a more fit parent than a strong, young woman who has happened to conceive a child out of wedlock?”
“No one just happens to conceive a child,” the nun says. “There is will involved and intent. Since it is obvious you were not misled and did not suffer a brutality, it would appear that you quite willfully sinned against Nature and against God and against another woman and her family, may God have mercy on your soul.”
Olympia straightens her back. “To love is not a sin against Nature, and I will never believe it so.”
The nun stands. “You cannot hope to be restored to society and to the community of the righteous if you do not confess your sins and beg forgiveness.”
Olympia stands as well. “I will beg,” she says. “You may be sure that I