The Skye in June

by June Ahern

  At first waking, Cathy assigned duties to her daughters before tackling her own. Her biggest project was starching the girls’ dresses to smooth perfection. Satisfied with the outcome, she had only just laid down the iron when loud shrieks erupted upstairs. She was certain something terrible must have happened. She scampered from the kitchen to dash up the stairs, declaring loudly, “Mother of God!”

  “Big, fat, lying sinner!” June screeched while pummeling Maggie’s midriff with her balled fists. Screeching obscenities, Maggie had her little sister’s red curls wrapped tightly in her hands.

  “Cut it out! We’re going to be late,” Annie demanded as she struggled to untangle the duo.

  Mary only contributed to the bedlam by jumping up and down on the bed and frantically yelling, “Out of my room, Maggie!”

  The bedroom door banged opened, announcing the arrival of their mother. The fighters broke apart and cried out their grievances against the other, each guilty before being judged. Surmising that a tragedy had not happened, Cathy hollered gruffly, “What’s the bloody screaming all about?”

  Blood from a red scratch on Maggie’s cheek trickled onto her pure white slip.

  “Oh no! Your slip is ruined,” exclaimed Cathy.

  A high-pitched shrill, like a siren, diverted Cathy’s focus.

  “Maggie’s a sinner!” June choked out. “She says she’s a better goddess than Our Lady ‘cuz she’s more beautiful. That’s a sin for her to say that, huh?”

  More concerned about Maggie’s injury than the moral issue at hand, her mother ignored June, which didn’t stop the agitated girl.

  “She committed a sin of vanity and Mommy, tell her it’s true that Our Lady is the goddess of Scotland,” June demanded.

  “Och, all this talk about sinners! Stop going on about that damn pagan stuff,” Cathy stormed at her youngest as she grabbed her arm and shook her roughly. “Look at your sister’s slip. See what your bad temper did? You’re just like your father.”

  The girls knew their mother was very angry because her Scottish accent was stronger when she was upset. They shut their mouths. Annie tried to creep away.

  “Annie! Bring the dresses from the kitchen up here,” Cathy ordered. She spit on a finger and started to rub at the bloodstain on the slip just above Maggie’s slightly budding breast. Caught off guard, she observed that her tall, skinny daughter was becoming a young woman.

  “Go get ready, hen, or you’ll miss your cue,” Cathy said, tenderly brushing back Maggie’s strawberry blonde hair.

  She then turned her attention to Mary, dressed only in a tee shirt, panties and a wreath of tiny purple flowers wrapped around her head. “Mary, put on that trainer brassiere. You’re too big there for only a tee-shirt.”

  The twelve-year-old gasped and covered her chest with both hands and cussed under her breath at having to wear a bra.

  To June she barked, “And you, Miss Know-It-All, the great goddess of Scotland is Calleach. Downstairs. Ten minutes.” She closed the door sharply.

  Cathy stood in the hallway with her hand still on the doorknob, shaking from her altercation with June. She hated reprimanding June so unsympathetically. The effort over the years to squash her daughter’s curiosity had become nerve wracking. She felt a sickening uncertainty. She doubted she was a good mother. A sorrowful fear any of her daughters would think she rejected them gripped her heart. Do they know how much I fight Jimmy for their privileges? she wondered sadly. Because of her, they were sometimes allowed night visits to the library and hamburgers after the movies on Saturdays.

  A throbbing headache began in her temples. In an effort to soothe the growing pain, she pushed aside her whitening hair to rub her forehead. Indecisive about whether she did the right thing by telling June about Calleach, her mind swam back and forth. She doesn’t understand what she’s saying, she decided. Jimmy’s right. I’ve got to make her stop this pagan malarkey for her own good.

  When June was younger, the stories about her angel and Helen and Baby Kit looking down from the clouds had comforted Cathy’s heart. At times she would play along with June and watch the clouds forming images in the sky. June had told her if she watched the clouds and pretended to see Helen and Baby Kit looking down at her from Heaven, then she could believe they were still with her.

  But it was the eerily clear details in June’s dreams and visions of Cathy that upset her. Why can’t I tell her the truth? Cathy thought guiltily. She knew why.

  Her troubled thoughts were jarred by Jimmy’s forceful shout from downstairs that he was going to start the car. Wearily, she went on to the tasks at hand.

  Lost in deep thought, June finished interlacing the yellow daisies on her wreath. She wondered why her mother had never mentioned her knowledge of goddesses, especially a Scottish one. On more than one occasion June had enthusiastically shared with Cathy what she had learned about them from Sister Noel. Her mother would mostly say, “That’s nice,” except for the time when June had told her about how people used to pray to the gods and goddesses. Her mother said gruffly, “What about math? That’s what that nun needs to be teaching you.” Afraid Sister Noel would get in trouble for teaching pagan history, June said no more about school. Now she wondered why her mother hadn’t told her what she knew about this Scottish goddess. Rolling Calleach around on her tongue, saying it with a Scottish emphasis as her mother had, June decided to ask Sister Noel about the goddess.

  In the early dawn of May Day, Sister Noel awoke to the silence in the Holy Savior’s convent. She had struggled to escape a nightmare, enfolding herself in her twisted bedding. Perspiration soaked her white cotton nightgown. Her dream was of a terrified gazelle encircled by a pride of hungry lions, licking their lips, ready to enjoy their prey. The gazelle, exhausted from running, gracefully lowered herself onto the soft grass, accepting her fate. A spray of hot blood enveloped the young nun’s mental screen.

  She moaned as she came out of her dream state. The day would be long, she thought as she untangled the sheets from around her slender body.

  Two long honks of the car horn blasted through the otherwise quiet morning on Liberty Street, alerting the MacDonald females Jimmy was ready to leave for church.

  “Hurry up. Don’t keep him waiting,” said Cathy, shooing all the girls but Maggie out the front door.

  Stepping into three-inch heels so she could stand face-to-face with her tall, fourteen-year-old, she began to pat make-up onto Maggie’s scratch in hopes of diminishing the redness.

  “I look so ugly!” Maggie whined pitifully. Cathy pressed down lightly to smooth out the make-up as Maggie winced. “Ouch! Watch out for the scar!” she cried out.

  Fed up with the dramatics, Cathy suggested the injured girl do what their religion taught her to do; when suffering, offer up the pain for the poor souls in purgatory.

  Maggie looked in the hall mirror and pouted out her lips. “Doesn’t matter how much powder you put on, she ruined me.”

  June poked her head in the door and warned them to hurry up. “Daddy said come now or walk to church.” She stuck out her tongue at her vain sister.

  Seething with anger, Maggie bared her teeth and hissed at June.

  Cathy didn’t like the look on Maggie’s face. I hope she doesn’t spoil the day, she worried.

  The church was transformed into a heavenly garden filled abundantly with fresh, colorful spring flowers emitting sweet scents. After the congregation settled into the pews, the procession started with the Monsignor walking down the main aisle sprinkling holy water over the parishioners. Behind him came both of the parish priests in pristine white and gold vestments flanked by several altar boys. Once they were all assembled in the sanctuary, the organist heralded in the children. Boys and girls in their respective lines came through the front doors to parade around the church on opposite sides. The girls were dressed in a rainbow of pastel dresses with wreaths of garden flowers adorning their hair. The boys had their hair neatly slicked down and wore crisp white shirts and dark pant
s.

  As the lines snaked around the pews, the children sang in harmony praises to God’s mother.

  “Oh, Mary, we crown you with blossoms today. Queen of the angels, Queen of the May.”

  When the children finally settled into the first rows of pews, the eighth-grade girl chosen to crown Our Lady would enter the church. As the organist began to play “Ave Maria,” heads craned backward to watch the chosen one walk down the aisle.

  Beautiful as a spring goddess, Maggie, poised between the church’s heavy wooden doors, waited to allow time for the parishioners to view her. A murmur of appreciation spread throughout the church. In a periwinkle-blue gown, holding a wreath of delicate white roses cut from the MacDonalds’ garden, she gracefully glided down the burgundy-carpeted aisle toward a life-size statue of Our Lady waiting to be crowned by the maiden. So lovely was the honored maiden, no one would have guessed that only an hour earlier she had been involved in a fight with her sister.

  After the ceremony, parishioners spilled out of the church into the warming May day, eager to get to breakfast. Jimmy emerged, gripping his Kodak Brownie camera and squinting into the sunlight. He looked out to the group of people. “Do you see her?” he asked Cathy.

  Cathy spied Maggie with Mother Superior and the Monsignor. The rotund priest had his arm loosely around Maggie’s shoulders, leaning down in to her face, smiling and talking.

  Jimmy saw her at the same time. “There she is!” he said, rushing down the church steps.

  Cathy spotted Annie and Mary amongst the crowd and beckoned them over. Jimmy and the Monsignor were vigorously shaking hands when Cathy and the girls joined them.

  “You must be so proud of Margaret being the chosen girl to crown the Blessed Virgin. Maybe someday Margaret will become a real bride of Christ,” Monsignor gushed, his fat red cheeks shaking as he pumped Jimmy’s hand up and down. Cathy thought how Monsignor reminded her of a fat rooster crowing for praises.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mary jab Annie with her elbow and giggle. She had a good idea what Mary was communicating to her sister. She too, was amused at the idea of her boy-crazy daughter becoming a nun.

  Jimmy proudly winked at Maggie. “She’s a good girl, alright.”

  An exaggerated moan escaped Mary’s lips. The group stared at her, puzzled by her utterance. Quickly, Annie said, “She’s just hungry.” The attention turned back to Maggie.

  “I understand Margaret will follow Anne to the Girls Convent High School. What a reward!” Mother Superior beamed a proud grin at the parents.

  “We have no choice but to send them all to Catholic higher learning. That’s where our girls belong, right Cathy?” Jimmy said, his grin broader with each compliment.

  Cathy nodded her head “yes,” giving a half smile. For weeks she had fretted over the cost of the high school’s tuition. Maggie had not won a scholarship like Annie had.

  Loud voices of children squealing and singing interrupted the conversation. They looked over to the schoolyard to see a group of young girls dancing around a basketball pole, holding the various colors of streaming ribbons attached to it. Cathy’s attention went to the bright red hair flying around the circle. Her heart sank. It has to be June, she thought. Mary mumbled, “Oh-oh.”

  Monsignor inquired, hesitatingly, “Mother Superior, what’s going on over there?”

  “I don’t know,” she sputtered nervously, licking her lips, uncertain if she, the Mother Superior of Holy Savior School, was guilty of some sin.

  “I know what they’re doing,” a sugary sweet voice sang out.

  Everyone looked at Maggie.

  “Sister Noel has been teaching her students about the old pagan celebration of May Day. She said it’s the story of Mother Earth giving birth. The pole is the Father Sun.” She hesitated, giving the group a pleasant smile. She continued in a singsong way. “The ribbons are like him showering down his love over all the young maidens. Whatever that means.” Maggie’s bright green eyes, wide with innocence, looked directly at the Monsignor.

  The adults stood frozen in place.

  Monsignor finally gasped out, “Mother...”

  “I’ll take care of it, Monsignor,” Mother Superior said, regaining her poise. With arms swinging as though to propel her faster, she marched over to the happy, cheering children.

  Cathy seethed at Maggie. She knew she had had a plan up her sleeve to get June in trouble after the earlier fight between the sisters.

  “Bloody troublemaker,” Jimmy swore under his breath, looking toward the playground, his temper starting to brew.

  With hands folded within her habit sleeves, Sister Noel stood facing the children, quietly watching them. Although her back was to Mother Superior, she did not jump with surprise when a voice gruffly asked, “What is the meaning of this, Sister?”

  The pretty young nun slowly turned to her. With eyelashes lowered, she hid her eyes. “It’s a celebration of May Day, Mother,” she answered with quiet dignity.

  “We just did that in church, Sister Noel, in a lovely Catholic celebration,” Mother Superior said.

  “Well, Mother, this kind of celebration for May Day is still done throughout many countries. I thought the children would like to learn about how other countries celebrate…”

  “We do not celebrate pagan holidays, Sister. Was this June MacDonald’s idea?” the older nun asked, glaring at the dancing girl.

  Sister Noel had had a premonition she should cancel the pagan celebration. When she told June, the girl begged her not to cancel it. She said they must honor the renewal of spring in the old ways, as Sister had taught the class. Sister decided she must support June’s interests and ignore her intuition. The two continued their plan to surprise the fourth graders with ribbons to dance around the basketball pole as though it was a maypole. The young nun had not asked for Mother Superior’s permission.

  “It was my idea. I take full responsibility,” Sister Noel said as she turned to squarely face her superior.

  Grim-faced, the Mother Superior said, “I am shocked by your decision to so blatantly desecrate one of our Holy Days, Sister. Dismiss the children immediately, then come to my office.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 27

  AFTERMATH

  UP UNTIL THE MAY DAY fiasco, the girls often visited the altar in June and Mary’s bedroom to pray or merely to share stories about life in The Valley. At times even Cathy would sit before it to recite the Rosary.

  After the Maypole event Jimmy became suspicious about the altar. He said June couldn’t be trusted to behave like a good Catholic girl. He questioned her about what she did at the altar. “I believe you use it for your sinful pagan practices,” he had blared.

  When they reached home after the catastrophe at church, he stormed up the stairs to destroy the altar, while June and the rest of the family stayed frozen at the foot of the staircase listening to the violent crashing of glass and ripping of paper. He then yelled, “June, get up here!”

  With her wreath of flowers still clutched in her hand, the little girl hesitantly trudged up to her father. Everything––the candles, incense holder, and the small sacred objects––was tossed in to a pile. Even the angel picture Maggie had drawn when they lived on Market Street, was pulled off the wall and torn up. Luckily, June’s tarot cards were hidden in a drawer.

  As she stood enduring his wrath she noticed a broken piece of a small object roll under the bed. Quickly, June snuck a glance at it. It was a statue of Our Lady, a special gift Sister Noel had given to her. When she first put it on the altar her sisters had laughed, because the statue was of a black Our Lady. Her sisters said God’s mother was a white person. June didn’t care what they thought and placed her prized gift in the center of a circle of small pebbles. Now all that was left of it was the head and shoulders.

  “I’ll teach you yet how to faithfully follow our religion,” her father panted breathlessly from the destruction as he unbuckled his thick belt. June braced herself, determined no
t to cry too loudly.

  After a few loud slaps and only one yelp from June, Jimmy stomped down the stairs buckling his belt. He mumbled something about meeting Sandy and banged out the door. Dour-faced, Cathy didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, she told Maggie to set the table for breakfast.

  “Should’ve poisoned him years ago,” Annie muttered under her breath as soon as he closed the door.

  Only Mary had heard her and she quietly agreed. She followed Annie upstairs to help tidy up the mess. Silently, the two girls tossed the broken objects into a small trash pail.

  In opposition to their father’s overbearing rules, Annie showed loyalty to her sister by recommending a new altar be hidden in the laundry room in the basement. He never went in there, she assured June.

  Later that evening while their father and mother watched “The Ed Sullivan Show,” Annie recruited Mary’s help to empty the trash. They took the trash to a large garbage bin beneath the front porch. In privacy they went through the bag from the bedroom and rescued anything that hadn’t been destroyed beyond further use. Annie decided the sky-blue candle, chosen to celebrate May Day, could still burn and tugged up the wick in an attempt to fix it. The white candle was too smashed to be repaired.

  “We’ll just buy another one,” Annie said smugly.

  She was sure she could sew the ripped scarf that had covered the altar. She also saw one of the glass candleholders had only a nick and two of the seashells collected at Ocean Beach were still intact.

  Mary stuck her hand in the bin and brought out the bottom half of the black statue and said, “If we find the top part, I’ll glue it together.”