Nighttime Is My Time

45

Dorothy Connors was a frail septuagenarian who Jean could see at first glance suffered from rheumatoid arthritis. She moved slowly, and the joints of her fingers were swollen. Her face showed lines of pain, and she wore her white hair very short, probably, Jean thought, because raising her arms was a distinct effort.

Her home was one of the desirable high-up properties that overlooked the Hudson. She invited Jean to the sunroom off the living room where, as she explained, she spent most of her waking time.

Her vivid brown eyes brightened when she talked about her husband. "Edward was the most wonderful man and husband and doctor who ever walked the face of the earth," she said. "It was that dreadful fire that killed him, the loss of his office and all his records. It brought on his heart attack."

"Mrs. Connors, I explained to you on the phone that I've been getting threats about my daughter. She would be nineteen and a half now. I am frantic to find her adoptive parents and warn them about the possible danger to her. I was a girl from this town. Please help me. Did Dr. Connors talk to you about me? I could see where he would. My mother and father were the town joke, with their public quarrels, and they only stayed together long enough to shove me into college. That was why your husband understood I could never go to them for help. He arranged the cover-up story, establishing my reason for going to Chicago. He even came out and delivered the baby himself in the emergency section of the nursing home."

"Yes, he did that for a number of girls. He wanted to help them maintain their privacy. Jean, fifty years ago it wasn't easy for a girl to have a baby out of wedlock. Do you know that the actress Ingrid Bergman was denounced in Congress when she gave birth to an illegitimate child? Standards of behavior change-for better or worse, you decide. Today most of the world doesn't think a thing about an unmarried woman bearing and raising a child, but my husband was old-fashioned. Twenty years ago he was deeply concerned about protecting his young pregnant mothers' privacy, even with me. Until you told me, I never even knew that you had been his patient."

"But you did know about my parents."

Dorothy Conners looked at Jean for a long moment. "I knew they had problems. I also saw them at church and chatted with them a number of times. My guess, my dear, is that you only remember the bad times. They were also attractive, intelligent people who unfortunately were ill-suited to each other."

Jean felt the sting of a rebuke and in an odd way sensed that she had been put on the defensive. "I can guarantee you that they were ill-suited to each other," she said, hoping that the anger she felt was not reflected in her voice. "Mrs. Connors, I do appreciate that you let me visit you on such short notice, but now I'll be brief. My daughter may be in very real danger. I know that you fiercely guard Dr. Connors' memory, but if you know anything about where he might have placed her, you owe it to me and to her to be honest with me."

"Before God, Edward never discussed patients in your situation with me, and I never heard your name mentioned by him."

"And he kept no records at home, and all his office records are gone?"

"Yes, they are. The entire building was so totally destroyed that arson has always been suspected but never proved. Certainly no records survived."

Clearly Dorothy Connors could give her no help. Jean rose to go. "I remember that Peggy Kimball was the office nurse when I saw Dr. Connors. I've left a message for her and hope she'll call me. Maybe she'll know something. Thank you, Mrs. Connors. Please don't get up. I'll find my way out."

She offered her hand to Dorothy Connors and then was shocked to see that the expression on the other woman's face could only be construed as extreme alarm.