Kristin Ashe: A Safe Place To Sleep Part 22

"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."

"You any good?"

"Not bad."

"Let me guess: rapid-fire serve but it rarely goes in. Killer at the net but opponents often get you with pa.s.s-shots. Correct?"

I laughed out loud.

"You're pretty close, but you forgot to mention that I have a weak backhand."

"Didn't want to offend you." She grinned. "We should play sometime," she offered, but I couldn't tell if she was serious.

She sliced her next three drives and cursed at every one of them.

"What do you need from me, Kristin Ashe?" she asked as she reached into her bucket for three more b.a.l.l.s.

"This is off the subject of why I came here, but why did you leave the convent?"

"I love women," she said with no trace of shame or further explanation.

I burst out laughing again, partly because I was uncomfortable with her candor, but mostly because the irony was priceless. Not well, indeed!

"No one's ever laughed that hard," she said, chuckling herself.

"Sorry," I said as I tried unsuccessfully to stop laughing.

"Don't be. Went into the convent because I loved women and left it because in the eyes of the church, I loved them too much. Guess that's funny."

"Not to some people. Sister Margaret told me you weren't well, but I'll tell you this much, I don't know what she was talking about. You look a h.e.l.l of a lot better than she does."

"Happiness will do that to you." She enthusiastically hit the next three b.a.l.l.s straight into the sky.

"But I must say, you certainly don't look like a nun, or even an ex-nun, for that matter."

"Girl, in my heyday I did. Had a hairdo that would have scared G.o.d." She let out a deep laugh.

I chuckled.

"I was thinking I'd have to meet you in a nursing home and hold your hand. And now, here I am sitting at a golfing range, watching you hit the ball farther than I can see."

"If I were any younger, I'd let you hold my hand anyway. Wouldn't that shock the good Sister Margaret?"

We laughed and laughed until the golf pro came by and asked us if we could quiet it down a bit.

In silence, except for an escaped giggle here and there, Fran Green hit the rest of the b.a.l.l.s in her bucket, and we adjourned to the clubhouse for drinks.

"What was it like being a nun?" I asked as I took my Dr. Pepper and twisted it in my hands.

"Quite challenging really. Contrary to popular belief, we're not all teachers, and not any of us are waifs. Strongest women I met were nuns."

"What kind of work did you do for St. Peter's?"

"Handled what would now be called 'Social Services.' Worked on adoptions. Set up a soup kitchen for the homeless a" first of its kind in Denver. Visited the elderly in their homes and in rest homes. Developed a prayer program for prisoners. Name it, and I probably did it," she told me as she sipped her soda.

"Destiny was your first adoption?"

"Yep. Would have handled her second adoption, too, and done a heck of a lot better job of it, except I was out of state when her parents died. In Minnesota, nursing my mother. There for almost a year before the cancer beat her."

Reflexively, I said, "I'm sorry."

She dismissed my condolences with a wave of her hand. "Don't be. Wasn't a great way to go, but it was her time."

"Did you choose the Kenwoods for Destiny?"

"In a sense, yes. But mostly, they chose each other. I knew Destiny would need more love than most babies, and when I met Peter and Barbara, I knew they could give it to her."

I was confused.

"Why did Destiny need more love a" was she ill?"

"Don't you know a" Destiny was a child of rape."

My eyes must have bugged out of my head. I was so shocked, I choked on my Dr. Pepper. To her credit, she immediately jumped up and came around the table to a.s.sist me.

"Sorry. No delicate way to put it," she said as she thumped on my back. "But I shouldn't have been so blunt."

"No kidding," I agreed as I struggled to breathe. "Her natural mother was raped?" I asked after I'd swallowed hard a few times.

She nodded.

"Tell me about it," I requested when I was done hacking, coughing and clearing my throat.

"Not much to tell. Young woman was from a prominent family in the parish. Going to school at the University of Denver when it happened. Raped by a boy who asked her out. Ending her senior year at the time, I believe."

"How tragic!"

"After the rape, she moved back with her parents. Weeks later, found out she was pregnant. They put her in isolation. Told everyone she was traveling in Europe for a year. Actually, she never left their house. One tragedy after another, that poor girl suffered. I counseled her extensively after the rape. She wanted to keep the baby, but the parents insisted she give it up for adoption."

"Abortion wasn't an option?"

"Afraid not in those days."

"So she gave her up?"

"Not easily. Gave us quite a scare there for a few days. She had an extremely difficult pregnancy and an even harder labor. After the baby was born, she wouldn't sign the papers to give her up. Cried for days about her little girl. Funny thing is, no one ever told her it was a girl. Still, she knew."