“The Polmar Home,” Carol said. “I know it.”
“Then you know it’s not a dungeon or a dump.”
“I still don’t like moving her out of here,” Carol said. “She’s going to feel as if she’s being shunted aside, forgotten, and left to rot. She’s on very shaky ground already. This’II scare her half to death.”
Frowning, Hannaport said, “I don’t like it much myself, but I truly don’t have an option. If we’re short on bed space, the law says we’ve got to consider degrees of need and take in those patients who have the most to lose by being denied care or by having treatment delayed. I’m in a bind.”
“I understand. I’m not blaming you. Dammit, if someone would just come forward to claim her!”
“Someone might, any minute.”
Carol shook her head. “No. I’ve got a feeling it’s not going to be that easy. Have you told Jane yet?”
“No. We won’t make the petition to the court sooner than Monday morning, so I might as well wait until tomorrow to explain it to her. Maybe something’ll happen between now and then to make it unnecessary. No use worrying her until we have to.”
Carol was depressed, remembering her own days in a state-run institution, before Grace had come along to rescue her. She had been a tough kid, street-smart, but the experience had nevertheless scarred her. Jane was bright and spunky and strong and sweet, but she wasn’t rough, not like Carol had been at her age. What would institutional living do to her if she had to endure it for more than a day or two? If she was simply dropped in among kids who were street-smart, among kids who had drug and behavioral problems, she would most likely be victimized, perhaps even violently. What she needed was a real home, love, guidance—“Of course!” Carol said. She grinned.
Hannaport looked at her questioningly.
“Why can’t she come with me?” Carol asked.
“What?”
“Look, Dr. Hannaport, if it’s all right with Paul, my husband, why couldn’t you recommend to the court that I be awarded temporary custody of Jane until someone shows up who can identify her?”
“You really better think twice about that,” Hannaport said. “Taking her in, disrupting your lives—”
“It won’t be a disruption,” Carol said. “It’ll be a pleasure. She’s a delightful kid.”
Hannaport stared at her a long moment, searching her face and her eyes.
“After all,” Carol argued as persuasively as she could, “the only kind of doctor who might be able to cure Jane’s amnesia is a psychiatrist. And in case you’ve forgotten, that’s what I am. I’d not only be able to provide a decent home for her; I’d also be able to treat her rather intensively.”
Finally, Hannaport smiled. “I think it’s a grand and generous offer, Dr. Tracy.”
“Then you’ll make the recommendation to the court?”
“Yes. Of course, you never can be sure what a judge will do. But I think there’s a pretty good chance he’ll see where the best interests of the girl lie.”
A few minutes later, in the hospital lobby, Carol used a pay phone to call Paul. She recounted the conversation she’d had with Dr. Hannaport, but before she got to the big question, Paul interrupted her. “You want to make a place for Jane,” he said.
Surprised, Carol said, “How’d you guess?”
He laughed. “I know you, sugarface. When it comes to kids, you’ve got a heart the consistency of vanilla pudding.”
“She won’t be in your way,” Carol said quickly. “She won’t distract you from your writing. And now that O’Brian won’t be able to present our application for the adoption until the end of the month, there’s no chance we’ll have two kids to take care of. In fact maybe the delay at the agency was meant to be—so we’d have a place for Jane until her folks show up. It’s only temporary, Paul. Really. And we—”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “You don’t have to sell me on it. I approve of the plan.”
“If you’d like to come here and meet Jane first, that’s—”
“No, no. I’m sure she’s everything you’ve said she is. Don’t forget, though, you were planning to go to the mountains in a week or so.”