“Daddy!” Three school-age children darted through the crowd and slammed into a sailor. He lifted the youngest high, laughing and grinning.

Leah’s shoulders relaxed. Yes, her trip was necessary. If she had even the slightest possibility of reuniting her fractured little family, she had to take it.

The porter led them outside and hailed a taxi.

Behind Leah, a tall square clock tower soared above the red brick station building.

The scent of the city was gently familiar, reaching into her mind and whispering to sleeping memories, urging them to awaken and step into the light.

A yellow taxi pulled up. The porter loaded the luggage into the trunk, the driver held open the back door, and Mama motioned Leah inside and tipped the porter.

Leah settled in. Helen made a face and turned toward Leah’s chest. “A little longer, sweetheart,” Leah cooed.

Mama sat and gave the address to the driver, and the cab pulled away from the curb.

“I’m so excited.” Mama folded gloved hands over her purse. “Tomorrow morning we’ll sit down with Juanita and a map and the list of orphanages, and we’ll plan your trip.”

“Tomorrow morning.” Leah gazed out at the darkened city and smiled. Somewhere out there were the answers she longed for. Somewhere out there her sisters might even be sleeping.

They’d be fifteen years old now. What did they look like? Sound like? Did they love school as she had? Books? Poetry? Or did they love jitterbugging and movie stars and baseball? She couldn’t wait to find out.

Please, Lord, let me have the chance.

CHICAGO
MONDAY, JUNE 5, 1944

The massive gray stone building didn’t look familiar from the outside, nor when Leah stepped inside.

But how long had she been in an orphanage before the Joneses adopted her? All she remembered was struggling as Mr. Jones carried her over his shoulder—crying for her sisters.

Leah shuddered. A horrible day, but today she had a chance to reverse it.

“May I help you, ma’am?” the nun behind the desk asked, her young face round and smiley under her habit.

“Yes, ma’am—sister.” Since Leah didn’t see any Greek Orthodox orphanages on the list, she’d try all the homes—Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish. “I’m looking for my little sisters. My parents died when I was four, and my sisters and I were placed in an orphanage, but I don’t know which one. I was adopted, but without my sisters.”

The nun folded her hands on the desk. “Your adoption papers should list the orphanage.”

“I don’t have them. The family who adopted me—they abandoned me at an orphanage in Des Moines without my birth certificate or adoption records.”

“Oh dear.” The nun clapped her hand over her mouth. “What an awful thing to do.”