In the silence that followed, the priest stepped forward. His features were coarse but composed, the eyes filled with compassion. Only a trickle of perspiration betrayed the tension hidden within.

"You love her very much," he said.

Thorn nodded, unable to find his voice.

"Then you must accept God's plan."

From the shadows of a darkened corridor, an aged nun appeared, her eyes imploring the priest to join her. They came together, whispering for a moment in Italian before she departed and the priest turned again to Thorn. There was something in his eyes that made Thorn stiffen.

"God works in mysterious ways, Mr. Thorn." And he held out his hand. Thorn, rising, was compelled to follow.

The maternity ward was three floors up and they took a back stairwell, an avenue little used and lit only by bare bulbs. The ward itself was dark and clean, the smell of babies renewing the sense of loss that throbbed like a hammer deep in Thorn's stomach. Moving to a glass partition, the priest paused, waiting as Thorn hesitantly approached and gazed down at what lay on the other side. It was a child. Newborn. A child of angelic perfection. With thick black hair tousled above deep-set blue eyes it stared upward, instinctively finding Thorn's eyes.

"It is a foundling," said the priest. "Its mother died as your own child ... in the same hour." Confused, Thorn turned to him. "Your wife needs a child," continued the priest. "The child needs a mother."

Thorn slowly shook his head. "We wanted our own," he said.

"If I may suggest... it very much resembles ..."

And Thorn looked again, realizing it was true. The child's coloration was the same as Katherine's, the features resembled his own. The jaw was firm, it even had the unique Thorn cleavage in its chin.

"The Signora need never know," implored the priest

And from Thorn's sudden silence, he took heart. Thorn's hand had begun to tremble and the priest took it, infusing him with confidence.

"Is ... it a healthy child?" asked Thorn in a trembling voice.

"Perfect in every way."

"Are there relatives?"

"None."

Around them the empty corridors hissed with silence, a stillness so dense that it assaulted the ears.

"I am in full authority here," said the priest. "There will be no records. No one would know."

Thorn averted his eyes, desperate with indecision.

"Could I... see my own child?" he asked.

"What's to be gained?" implored the priest. "Give your love to the living."

And from behind the glass partition the infant lifted both arms toward Thorn as if in a gesture of desire.

"For the sake of your wife, Signor, God will forgive this deception. And for the sake of this child who will otherwise have no home .. ."

His voice fell to silence, for no more needed to be said.

"On this night, Mr. Thorn ... God has given you a son."