Chapter XXIII #2
They heard several more cases. Over and over, the judge snapped out a quick verdict in the prosecution’s favor and advised the defendant to do better, aim higher, think about their consequences… Mae had heard enough preaching by the time four-thirty had ticked by.
Finally, she looked around, and no other cases were forthcoming.
She recognized the clerk from earlier. He had approached the judge and was whispering to him behind the bench.
She saw him point Mae out in the gallery.
The judge nodded, and she heard his voluminous voice call out, “Mae Turner. Please approach.”
Mae unfurled her stiff legs and stretched to her full height. She approached the judge with poise and gravity.
“I see here that you are requesting an audience regarding the stay of a minor precluding adoption placement from the Children’s Home? And under whom are you operating?” He addressed her while scanning the form.
“Yes, Your Honor. I’m here on behalf of Henry Turner, Esquire, located in New York.”
“And he has given you the authority to present the evidence for the stay, I would assume?”
Mae hesitated for only a second. “Yes, Your Honor.” Of course Henry would give her permission—if he were able to.
The judge nodded. “It’s getting late for today. I will hear your case first thing tomorrow morning. Let’s say nine o’clock. That should be acceptable, yes?”
Frustration bloomed in her chest, but she pushed it down and looked directly into the eyes of the judge. “Yes, Your Honor. That would be acceptable.”
“Very well, then. Have a good evening, and I will see you tomorrow.”
Mae nodded and marched back to Winona and swept up her belongings. “He will see us in the morning.”
“So we can go back to the Children’s Home now? I must see her, Mae. She needs me.” The crack in Winona’s voice all but undid Mae. She recognized the longing in her voice and the despair in her eyes.
“Yes, let’s head back over there.” She tried to muster a reassuring smile.
The afternoon dusk had turned to darkness while the women had waited inside the courtroom.
Although the streets of Topeka had several street lamps dotted along the main thoroughfare, the city sounded eerily quiet to Mae.
This was a stark contrast to her usual noisy surroundings in New York.
They quickly made their way to the streetcar stop and were relieved when a streetcar arrived within several minutes.
Upon hearing the conductor indicate the Children’s Home stop, they bounded off with anticipation toward the door of the solid brick building.
It was no surprise that the children had been collected indoors at this late hour.
Mae wondered what Simon was being fed for dinner.
She knew he wasn’t a picky eater, but the thought of them trying to feed him beets and the stark dismay that would appear on his face made her mouth turn up at the edges.
They could not find a bell to ring, so Winona resorted to banging heartily on the door.
The door cracked open just enough to make a young nun in a dark habit visible.
Mae was always amazed that such young women chose to accept the calling of the Lord, forever foregoing having a family of their own.
“Good evening,” she began as she examined each of the women in turn. “May I help you?”
“Yes, please, Sister,” Winona started in. “We’re ‘ere to see our children. They’d’ve been here since yesterday. Lily Kerr and Simon Turner.”
“I’m sorry, ladies, but visiting hours are over at five. You’ll have to return tomorrow.” Her gentle smile was betrayed by the grit which was obvious in the set of her jaw.
“But we’ve come so far. We jus need to see ‘em fer a minute. Jus to see that they’re okay.” Winona’s plea sounded desperate, and Mae watched as the nun shifted her weight behind the door, placing her hand firmly on the back of it in an abundance of caution.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but rules are rules for a reason. These children need familiar routines and schedules.”
Mae remembered back to the stoic gray children at the Foundling House. No room for any disruption of the plans and schedules. She thought about how comforting that stability had been for the prostituted young girl and then how the young girl had protested the confinement whole-heartedly.
“Sister, I understand your concerns,” Mae chimed in. “Would it be possible to confirm with us that the children in question are indeed here?”
The nun paused for a moment, apparently weighing the cost of such confirmations. “What did you say their names were?”
“Lily Kerr and Simon Turner.” As Mae supplied the names again, Winona wrung her hands slightly as she shifted her weight.
“Simon Turner is here. He is adjusting.” The nun looked quickly over her shoulder and then focused on the women once more. Her posture stiffened, and she looked down at the threshold as she continued, “Lily Kerr is also in our care, but she has been placed out for adoption review this afternoon.”
A wretched sound ripped from Winona’s throat. “She’s been adopted?” Winona’s usual rosy complexion faded to a ghostly white.
“No, Ma’am, not yet. She’s been sent out to a family for consideration. She will return tomorrow, and if they see fit, they may approve moving forward. Then Mr. Foster just needs to sign the papers.”