"My biological sister."
"We were found by a priest at the entrance of St. Paul's Community Church in Queens."
"At the time, all we had on us was a note with our dates of birth."
"Hawk and Anya—those names were given to us by the church priest."
"Anya really liked her name."
Leaning against his sister Anya's gravestone, Hawk did not ask Gwen how she had found this place.
That would have been a stupid question.
Hawk spoke softly as he recounted the story, as though afraid of disturbing his sister Anya.
"Anya was very happy."
"She had always been happy, even though she had a hole in her heart and had to be hospitalized from time to time."
Fortunately, he and his sister were orphans. Even though she needed to be admitted to the hospital every now and then, he never had to worry about medical expenses.
The federal and state governments had them covered.
As Hawk said this, he glanced sideways at Gwen, who was imitating him by sitting on the ground with her back lightly resting against Anya's gravestone. He could not help but laugh. "Sometimes, I wondered if our parents abandoned Anya and me because we could receive free treatment after becoming orphans."
The corner of Gwen's mouth twitched at Hawk's words, and she shook her head.
"When they found you, were there no birth records?"
"No."
Hawk shook his head. "The church people contacted hospitals throughout New York City, but none had matching records. Later, a doctor suggested that Anya and I might not have been born in a hospital, but at home."
Giving birth at home rather than going to a hospital was not uncommon in this country.
It was especially common among deeply religious families. Some were so extreme that even if the