Thank you all for reading. This is the last chapter. I apologize for the long delay. Please enjoy.

Previously…

Sister Ellen McNamara died just before midnight, eight and one half hours after Jack had arrived at the hospital. Jack and Betsy were with her when she died.

The end came quietly. Betsy and Jack were talking softly about their childhood, when suddenly there was a small hitch in Ellen's breathing, drawing both their attention. Betsy leaned forward to touch her sister's hand and Jack placed his hand on Ellen's shoulder. They saw her eyes open, the expression in them clear and happy as she gazed at something they could not see. Beneath the oxygen mask they saw her smile. Then her eyes closed and her breath sighed for the last time. But the smile on her lips remained.

Chapter 11

April 15, 2009, St. Catherine's Church, Chicago

The church was filled to overflowing for Sister Ellen's funeral mass. Jack and Sam sat in the front pews with the rest of the large McNamara clan. Jack automatically followed along with the formal service, responding, kneeling and standing with the rest of the congregation. Sam sat quietly at his side, her hand warm in his.

Father Nick Regan conducted the mass in his own meticulous and pedantic manner, drawing out each and every detail of the long service.

Afterwards, they all walked to St. Catherine's Cemetery, where Ellen was buried in the McNamara plot with her parents and brothers and sister.

~x~

Jack was standing by the window of their hotel room, staring out over the city. He hadn't taken off his blues, merely unbuttoned the jacket and loosened his tie. Sam put her arms around him from behind and felt his hands cover hers on his chest. They'd left Betsy and Aaron's house—where they'd spent a couple of hours after the service—just a little while ago.

"I'm going to get a shower," she said softly.

He nodded. "Mmm," he said.

She let go slowly—releasing him softly, giving him the opportunity to hold on if he needed to, but he did not—and headed for the bathroom. Twenty minutes later when she emerged, she was surprised to see him still standing there, as if he had not moved at all. He didn't stir as she toweled her hair and ran a quick comb through it, then changed from her robe into pajamas.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she rested her hand on his waist.

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. "I will be. But right now… no, I guess I'm not," he admitted, still staring out of the window at the lights below. "I'm an orphan," he said in a strangely subdued voice.

She caught her breath and closed her eyes for a moment, fighting off a stab of pain. "I know how that feels."

"Yes... you do." His voice was soft and he put both arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She melted against him, holding him up, letting him do the same for her. He wasn't done speaking. "I was an orphan for the first time fifty-six years ago. Abandoned-it's the same thing, isn't it? I was just lucky Ellen was the one who found me." He took a deep, slow breath. "She could still be out there somewhere—Katy Shannon O'Neill," he said, almost absently. "She was younger than Ellen."

Maybe it was not really so strange that he was thinking about his birth mother on the day of his true mother's funeral, Sam thought. Although on the face of it she was a bit surprised—except when he'd first confided in her about his origins, she'd never heard him say her name.

"Have you ever looked for her?" Sam ventured.

He shook his head. "No. She gave me to Ellen. If she'd wanted me she knew where to find me." There was something hard and final in his tone.

"She was only a child herself, Jack," she said softly.

He didn't answer and she said no more.

An apartment building across the city…

The old woman bore little resemblance to the tall, auburn-haired girl who had waylaid Sister Ellen on the sidewalk all those years ago. Her hair was almost completely white now. Her body was far too thin, and her movements stiff with arthritis. Kate Bell had recently passed her seventy-first birthday, but a stranger seeing her might easily have guessed several years beyond that number. Only the deep brown eyes were the same—still sharp without the need for glasses.

The bookstore where she worked had closed today in deference to the funeral of Sister Ellen McNamara, so she had joined the thousands of people who stood outside the packed church where the funeral Mass was held, and watched as the well-known and well-loved administrator of the Children's Home was carried to her final rest.

On her way home Kate stopped to get the evening paper, knowing the story would be there. Crossing the room slowly, she dropped the newspaper onto the kitchen table then turned to put on the tea kettle.

Shortly, with her cup of tea in hand, she sat down and opened the paper, turning the pages until she found what she was looking for. There, on a full double page spread, complete with pictures, was the story of Sister Ellen's service at St. Cat's from the time she arrived there as a novice the age of seventeen. The story told of the many children she had helped to nurture and raise through the course of fifty-seven years, of her dedication to their welfare and her untiring efforts on behalf of all the children of the city.

One paragraph related how Sister Ellen almost single-handedly prevented St. Cat's from closing thirty years earlier by visiting the Bishop and convincing him that the Home was essential to the children of the city. Money was somehow found to keep the orphanage doors open. There'd been a rumor that Ellen went to the head of the crime syndicate in the city and shamed him into giving them the funds! Kate doubted that, although the image amused her.

At any rate, Sister Ellen was a hero to the residents of Chicago. Many prominent people were present at the funeral; among them were the city's Mayor, the Governor of the State, a number of local and state officials—and one high-ranking United States Air Force Officer, Lieutenant General Jonathan O'Neill.

General O'Neill, the story went on to say, was one of the children who had been raised at St. Catherine's. He had lived there until graduating from high school and then had joined the Air Force, where he'd gone on to have a very distinguished career.

Kate studied the picture of him, as he stood with the McNamara clan beside the casket, a tall blond woman identified as his wife at his side. She was bemused at how much he looked like her father—his namesake. The resemblance was almost uncanny. She had named the baby after her Da in hopes of softening the old man toward the little bastard she'd brought into his house. It didn't work. If anything it only made him angrier and more adamant that the child should not be allowed to stay under his roof.

She'd had no choice. Her boyfriend had gone off and joined the Army before she even knew she was pregnant. He was killed in a skirmish along the 38th parallel in Korea, just two weeks after he arrived in the country. Katy was fourteen years old.

She hid her condition for as long as she could. Her mother found out when Katy was five months along. Despite Kate's pleas not to tell her father, Lily O'Neill did just that. Jonathan was incensed, and after a vitriolic rant against his daughter's immoral behavior, he barely spoke to her for the remainder of her pregnancy. When the baby was born, he refused to have anything to do with him, and gave his daughter an ultimatum—get rid of him or get out...

Kate sighed and pushed away the memories. Jon looked like he'd done pretty well for himself, she thought, leaning closer to take in the details of his appearance. A General even! A General's got to make a good living... And his wife sure looks like a high-class lady.

Kate wondered what Jon would think if she were to call on him and tell him she was his real mother. Not that she was going to do that—she'd had nothing to give him back then, and she had even less now. It definitely appeared that she had done the right thing for him all those years ago. She was glad of that. But handing him over to Sister Ellen had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. An even more bitter pill was the fact that she had never had any other children…

After a while she wiped away the unwelcome tears from her eyes. Reaching for a pair of scissors, Kate carefully cut out the picture of General Jonathan O'Neill. Then she folded the newspaper and set it aside.

With the picture in hand, she went into her bedroom and took down a box from a closet shelf. Sitting on the bed, she opened the box and looked down at the contents. Inside were a number of letters. Without counting, she knew exactly how many—there were twenty-four. Now there would never be another one. Kate put the picture of Jonathan in the box with the letters and replaced the lid.

April 17, 2009

Jack, Sam and Daniel left Chicago two days after Sister Ellen's funeral. Betsy and Aaron, Sandy, Karen, David and Dylan came to the airfield to see them off.

"Let's get everyone together at the cabin this summer," Jack suggested. "We haven't done that in a quite long time. How does the middle of August sound?"

"Good idea," David said enthusiastically.

"Bets?" Jack asked.

"Yes," she agreed. "Maybe around the second week. Want me to get in touch with everybody and set it up?"

"Yeah. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'll email you and we'll work out the details." Betsy reached out and hugged him. "I love you, Jacky," she whispered.

"Me, too," he replied.

An Air Force Major approached the group, stood at attention and saluted Jack. "Sorry to interrupt, sir. But the pilot is ready to depart. Our clearance is in fifteen minutes."

"Coming, Major." Jack nodded to him. "Thanks."

Jack shook hands with Aaron, Dylan and David, and hugged his two nieces. Then he, Sam and Daniel followed the Major out to the waiting airplane.

April 22, 2009, Chicago

Betsy found the letter a week after the funeral, when she was going through her sister's room at St. Catherine's. It was sealed and addressed, but not stamped. Very likely Ellen intended to mail it the day she had the heart attack, Betsy thought. She read the name and address with a frown; Mrs. Kate Bell, 1134 Orlando St. Apt.2C., Chicago, Ill.

It wasn't a thick letter, a couple of pages at the most. Ellen hadn't used a St. Catherine's official envelope, so probably the letter was personal. A friend? Betsy had never heard the name, but then she was unlikely to have known all of Ellen's friends. She decided that she should see that the letter got to its intended destination.

It was late afternoon before Betsy finished at St. Cat's and then took a cab to Kate Bell's address. It was a poor neighborhood. The apartment buildings were shabby and rundown.

Someone took the time to keep the vestibule clean she noticed when she entered the front door. She searched the names and found the one she was looking for. The apartment she wanted was on the second floor. She climbed the stairs and found the door and knocked.

It was a few moments before the door was opened by an older woman. She had white hair and pale skin, and was slightly stooped. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Kate Bell?" Betsy asked.

"Yes."

"My name is Betsy Cohen. My sister was Ellen McNamara." She saw the woman's brows rise. "Did you know my sister?"

There was a hesitation before the woman spoke. "I… I met her… long ago."

"I was going through Ellen's things and I found a letter addressed to you." Betsy held out the envelope she had in her hand.

Kate took the envelope. It was sealed. "Thank you," she said gratefully, clasping the envelope to her breast.

"It must have been one of the last things she did," Betsy said. "I thought you should have it."

"Thank you," Kate said again. After a moment she stepped back and opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in?"

She really should decline, Betsy thought, but there was something about the woman that seemed familiar, and her curiosity won out. "Thank you."

She followed Kate Bell into a small, immaculate living room, and took a seat on the chair that Kate indicated. "Did you know Ellen well?" She couldn't help asking the question.

Kate hesitated. "No, not really," she gave a small smile. "It was… years ago."

The smile made Betsy blink. So familiar! "Have you and I met?" she asked. "I feel I should know you."

The older woman shook her head. "No. We've never met. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I don't want to trouble you…"

"I was just going to have a cup myself. The water's already on." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled again—deep dark brown eyes…

Again, Betsy had the strong feeling that she'd looked into those eyes before.

Kate poured the tea and the two women sat and talked, mostly about Ellen. Kate explained that she had grown up in the neighborhood near St. Cat's, and had met Ellen when she was a novice there. The two young women had struck up a kind of friendship, and had kept in touch over the years. Betsy decided that she must have seen Kate back then, and that was why she seemed familiar.

After twenty minutes or so, Betsy took her leave.

"Thank you very much for bringing me the letter," Kate said to her. "It gives me something to remember her by."

Kate opened the letter as soon as Betsy was gone. The last time Ellen had written her was eighteen months ago, when Jon had gotten married. This one had no great news, just that Jon was well, and still living in Washington, that he and his wife were happy, despite having to commute across the country. Jon had received another promotion, Ellen wrote, and was now a three star general.

The letters had never come any more often than a year, and most were two and three years apart.

Kate read the letter twice, then put it away with the others. Her thoughts went back to the day she met Ellen.

Chicago, December, 1952

Katy hurried down the street away from the orphanage, and turned the first corner she came to. She hated herself, but she had no choice. She was fifteen, with no job, nowhere to live and no way to take care of a baby on her own.

"I took him to St. Cat's," she told her parents that evening. The elder Jonathan O'Neill did not say a word, did not even acknowledge that she had spoken.

Things in the household went back to the way they were before the baby was born. He was never mentioned again—it was if he'd never existed.

Katy tried to forget. She gave away the few items she'd gotten for Jon. But she cried at night.

She never went back to school. Soon she found a job in a bookstore many blocks away. She walked to work every weekday. After she began to save a little money she would take the bus if the weather was bad. She often dreamed of Jonny.

Winter passed and one warm day early in May she found herself walking past the park near the orphanage. There were children playing on the swing and in the sandbox, and three young nuns were watching them. Katy recognized the nun she had given Jonny to five months earlier.

She couldn't help herself—she sat down on a bench a short distance away and watched the children. There were two little ones in buggies and she wondered if one of them might be Jonny. The sister spread blankets on the grass and put the babies down on them. One of the babies was too young and so she studied the other. He was very active, squirming around on the blanket and rolling over until he was off on the grass.

The nun laughed and went over to rearrange him. "Look at you, Jon!" she said affectionately, picking up the child and cuddling him in one arm while she straightened the blanket with her free hand. "You'll be crawling before we know it, won't you?"

"Oh, I hope not, Sister Ellen!" one of the novices exclaimed. "It's hard enough to keep up with him now!"

Ellen laughed again. "Then we'll have to work harder. He'll probably walk early, too, just to keep us entertained."

Katy could hardly breathe as she stared at the baby in Ellen's arms. Yes, it was Jonny! She recognized him even after all these months. That little crooked smile hadn't changed, and his eyes were just like her Da's! He was beautiful! Later she would wonder why such a beautiful child hadn't been adopted, but at the moment all she could think was how much she missed him. When she realized she was about to cry she jumped up and hurried away.

She went to the park often in the next few months—she couldn't stay away. Jonny started crawling a few weeks later and walked at eleven months.

Ellen noticed her, recognized her the first time Kate appeared in the park. She was not surprised to see her there frequently through the summer. She debated with herself whether to speak to the girl.

And then she stopped coming.

Katy forced herself to stay away. It was a rainy autumn, and the children were not in the park as often, so that made it a bit easier…or so she told herself. She took longer hours at the bookstore, working until six in the evening, too late for the children to be out. And she met Emmett Bell.

Emmett was the nephew of the bookstore owner. He was twenty-two, and had been away in the army for the past four years. But now he was home, discharged and looking for work. He like Kate the minute he saw her. They started dating and within a month he asked her to marry him.

She went back to the park one warm sunny day in late October. She sat and watched the children. By then Jonny was running! She watched as he tired himself out and fell asleep on the blanket.

Kate was surprised when Sister Ellen walked over and sat down beside her.

"We missed you," Ellen said quietly. "Are you well?"

Katy stared at her for a moment before she found her voice. "Yes. How is he?"

"He's wonderful," Ellen assured her. "Healthy and happy as you can see. Full of energy and mischief, just like a little boy should be."

"You love him," Kate said.

"We all love him."

For several minutes they watched silently as Jonny slept.

"Why hasn't he been adopted?" Kate asked.

Ellen laughed. "It seems he doesn't want to be." She told Kate about the abortive attempts. Katy smiled at the story.

"I'm getting married soon," Katy told Ellen.

"Congratulations," Ellen said, glancing at Jon.

Kate saw the look and interpreted it correctly. "No, it isn't his father. Jon's da was killed in Korea before Jonny was born."

"I'm sorry," Ellen said gently.

"He never even knew about the baby. I had to bring him to you. I couldn't keep him."

"Yes… you wrote that in the note."

Katy nodded. "Emmett, the man I'm going to marry, just got out of the army. He wants to move to another city and get a job in one of the automobile factories. We're going next week, right after the wedding."

"Jon?" Ellen asked.

Kate shook her head. Tears came to her eyes, and she closed them quickly. "He's better off with you. Emmett doesn't know…"

The second time Kate left him was even harder than the first. Ellen offered to write to her occasionally and let her know about Jon, so when she and Emmett were settled, she sent Ellen her address.

Ellen wrote, just as she promised. There were twenty-four letters in all, spaced out over the years.

Kate's marriage was tolerable, but then she hadn't expected anything special. There were no children, and she was alternately sad and relieved about that. She went to work in a bookstore again, in the new city. Emmett found a job in a factory, but he never advanced beyond the assembly line. Eventually his health deteriorated and at fifty years old he suffered a heart attack. He died two years later.

Kate returned to Chicago nearly thirty years after she left. She found a small apartment and a job—in yet another bookstore, where she was still working, despite the arthritis.

April 22, 2009, Chicago

Kate walked slowly back to the kitchen. She took a chicken casserole out of the oven where it had been cooking. She sat down alone and ate her dinner, just as she did every night. Just as she would every night for the rest of her life.

The End

Thank you very much for reading my story. I appreciate all of the comments that you sent, and hope you enjoyed what you read.

This chapter ended up much longer than I had planned, but I could not leave the details about Kate untold. Thanks again!