Teagan swatted the LOVE blocks and sent them flying across the desk and onto the floor. “You don’t have any idea what love is about. All you care about is keeping your prisoners in line and making money.”
“Pick them up now!”
Teagan shook her head. “There’s no love in this place.”
Sister Anne grasped the rod horizontally between her clenched fists and rushed toward her.
Teagan fell back as the rod neared her throat. It barely missed her, catching on the chair’s wings.
Sister Anne shook as she spoke. “I could kill you for the hurt you’ve caused me.” The nun pushed harder against the chair. The rod inched closer to Teagan’s neck.
She grabbed the rod and pushed back. “Kill me? Is that what you want? Is that your idea of Christian virtue?”
Sister Anne dug her feet into the floor, pushing harder, until the rod came to a stop against the chair.
She gulped, managed a quick breath, and said, “Kill me, then. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
Sister Anne stopped, her stern face turning ashen. She retreated, rod in hand, behind her desk. She returned it to the drawer and walked to the scattered pile of blocks. She knelt and picked them up, gently, one by one. She looked at Teagan, her eyes watery yet still flashing anger. “Fathers Matthew and Mark have denied any wrongdoing. Your accusations against the convent have wounded me and the Order greatly.” She gathered the letters and arranged them on her desk.
“That’s why the Fathers were here, isn’t it? You wanted to show them the letters?”
Sister Anne nodded. The Mother Superior leaned over her desk like a wounded bird, unsure of itself, fluttering, not knowing what to do as the body faltered. Teagan had no sympathy for her.
“If you persist in this madness, I’ll have no choice but to send you away,” Sister Anne said.
“What do you mean?”
“To an asylum—where you will be cared for until it’s deemed you are well.”
Teagan shook her head in disbelief. The Mother Superior would stop at nothing to ruin her life. “I’m not daft.”
“Aren’t you? False accusations. Infatuation with a priest. Thoughts of suicide.”
“Suicide?”
“You want to die, don’t you? You asked me to kill you. That’s what you want. I know much more about these things than you do.”
“You know I’m innocent. That’s all I have to say.” She left her chair and walked toward the door.
“Stop,” the Mother Superior ordered. “I should send you to the Penitent’s Room, but in light of your confused emotional state, hoping for death, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m calling for Sister Mary-Elizabeth.” She picked up the telephone and turned her head so Teagan couldn’t hear the conversation.
Gasping for breath, Sister Mary-Elizabeth arrived less than a minute later. “I came as soon as I could,” she told Sister Anne.
“I want all in this room to see what I’m doing, so there is no question about what happened to these letters.” She lifted the first and tore it into pieces, and then did the same to the second. She gathered the scraps in her hands and gave them to Sister Mary-Elizabeth. “Burn them,” she ordered, “and make sure no more are written.”
Teagan opened the door without looking back.
Sister Anne yelled as she walked away. “Remember what I said about your future! I’ll fulfill my promise if I have to.”
Teagan turned into the hall, not wishing to address Sister Anne directly. “I’ll remember,” she muttered as she climbed the stairs to the old library. She took a seat at her desk but couldn’t work. Her hands shook as she watched Lea. Now there was something else to worry about. What if the Mother Superior made good on her threat?
* * *
Sleep did not come easily to Teagan for weeks after her confrontation with Sister Anne. Most nights she fluffed her pillow, fussed with the blanket, and tossed and turned in every possible position to get comfortable, but hardly anything worked. Often she stared at the ceiling, trying to force endless plans of escape out of her head. When sleep came, she dreamed of running free on Dublin roads, walking along the banks of the River Liffey with Cullen, even planting flower boxes at her parents’ home. The euphoric feelings of freedom were extinguished when she awoke, leaving her exhausted and nervous.
In January, she was forced to work in the laundry again because another round of colds was circulating through the convent. Fortunately, she and Nora had escaped the virus. When they could, they used their hand signals and plotted how they would escape. There were few moments when they could talk. Escaping through the delivery door, as Nora had done, was out of the question now that Sister Ruth had been fooled. “Once, a fool; twice, a murderer,” the nun had cautioned all the Magdalens with a glare in her eyes. The nun watched them all day, her gaze rarely interrupted. Each ensuing week their escape became more critical because of Nora’s pregnancy, although the signs were not obvious yet. Teagan noticed a small swell in Nora’s belly after she pointed it out, but no one else seemed the wiser. Not even Lea knew.
One day in early February, Teagan returned to the library to work at lace-mending. No one was around in the afternoon, since the Sisters trusted Lea, so she took the opportunity to speak with her friend. Lea was bent over her parchment, putting the finishing touches on “Christ Enthroned.”
“What do you think?” Lea asked, as Teagan approached.
She leaned over the table and studied the drawing. “The colors are beautiful. You’ve done a wonderful job.” Teagan looked toward the hall to make sure no one was near. The lights blazed overhead, although the day was fairly sunny. Any bits of snow had melted, as the sun rose higher and the days lengthened.
“I have to talk to you,” Teagan whispered. “It’s important.”
Lea looked at her quizzically. She put her brush in its holder and turned to Teagan.
“You’re our friend?” she asked Lea. “You want what’s best for us?”
Lea nodded, looking perplexed by her questions. “I want us all to be friends. All of us—even the nuns.”
Teagan blanched at Lea’s assertion that they could be friends with the nuns, but decided to ignore the comment. “Remember when we played with the tarot cards?”
“Yes. The Empress card came up for you and Nora—long life and fruition.”
The old nun, Sister Rose, walked past the door, but didn’t glance inside. The nun’s presence startled Teagan, and she stepped back from the table. Sister Rose disappeared down the hall, probably too consumed with thoughts of cutting a penitent’s hair to notice a conversation in the library.
Teagan stole back to the desk and put her hand on Lea’s shoulder. “That’s right, and that means we’re going to get out of here.”
Lea scrunched up her mouth. “I suppose.”
“You told me the cards never lie. Nora and I need your help.”
Lea looked at her mournfully. “My help? What can I do?” She shook her head. “I don’t want to lose my two best friends in the world.”
Teagan grabbed Lea’s hands. “Then leave with us. The three of us can make a go of it. We’ll help each other.”
Lea slumped in her chair. “I don’t think I could ever leave here. What would I do? Draw pictures? No one will pay me for them. I can’t go back to the farm where I’m not wanted. I don’t have any other talents.”
“You can read fortunes,” Teagan said, grasping at anything to sway her friend.
Lea laughed. “Most people think fortune-tellers are frauds. I’d probably get arrested.”
“Think how wonderful it would be to live in the world again. To smell fresh air—to be in the country with the ducks and geese—to be away from the stench of this place.”
Lea tilted her head.
“If you want us to be happy, help us,” Teagan pleaded. “The nuns trust you. You’re the best friend we have. The convent’s doors are always locked, the keys are protected by Mr. Roche, and the grounds are gated. Help us co
me up with a plan.”
Lea’s eyes filled with tears.
“Help us, please.”
Lea wiped a trickle away from her cheek. “I want you and Nora to be happy.”
Teagan hugged her. “And we want you to be happy. But Nora and I won’t be until we get out of here.” She paused. “I know this sounds odd, but can you get me a hammer and a bit of machine oil?”
Lea’s face brightened. “I think Mr. Roche has those things in his office.”
“Good. I’m going to come down with a fever this afternoon. Somehow get them to me between tea and prayers. Do your best. If it can’t be done today, see if you can do it tomorrow.” She walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m getting sick. Remember?” She sneaked up to the toilet and ran hot water over her face. Then she looked for Sister Mary-Elizabeth and found her standing outside the Mother Superior’s office. Sister Mary-Elizabeth promptly sent her to bed because of her “fever.”
A few hours later, Lea crept into the garret with a hammer and a small can of sewing machine oil in her pocket. She had taken a chance before tea and entered the open caretaker’s cubby across the hall from Sister Anne’s. The Mother Superior’s office door was closed. “I needed a hammer to work on a shaky leg on my desk,” Lea told her. That was going to be her excuse if she got caught.
As soon as Lea left, Teagan went to work on the window near her bed, taking out the nails that had been used to secure it. She oiled the window tracks and raised and lowered the sash until it made no noise. She stored the hammer, oil, and nails under her bed in case she needed to nail the window shut again. Her only regret was that she had missed tea. Her stomach growled. Tomorrow, she was certain, her health would return.
* * *
“I’m going out on the roof,” Teagan whispered to Nora and Lea after Sister Mary-Elizabeth turned out the lights.
“Are you mad?” Nora asked. “Don’t be a fool—you’ll freeze to death.”
“I’ll only be outside for five minutes.”
“Why?” Lea asked. “What if you get caught?”
“I’m going out there in a couple of hours. I’ll tell you why after I get back. Now, be quiet.”
She covered up and fell asleep under the warmth of her blankets. Her nerves, tingling with excitement, rocked her awake sometime after midnight. The garret was quiet; no one was stirring. She crept out of bed and walked to the garret doors, as if headed for the toilet. In the murky light, she could see the girls were sleeping, a few even snoring. The constant and familiar sounds of sleep would aid her plan.
She returned to her task and eased the sash up without a squeak. She unlatched the screen, crawled outside, and lowered the window quickly so an unwelcome blast of winter air wouldn’t wake up the Magdalens.
The cold cut through her nightclothes. She sat on the tiles, judging whether it was safe to walk. It might be better to crawl. The winter snows on the west side of the roof had melted in the February sun. It seemed safe enough. She ran her fingers over the slate—no ice that she could feel—but in the dark it was hard to tell. She decided to crawl to her objective—the northwest corner of the convent, on the opposite side of where Lea, Nora, and she had congregated before.
There was little wind. Once her body adjusted to the temperature, she found the cold bearable. The moon drifted in a cloudless sky adorned with a blaze of stars. The lights of Dublin swam in the haze to the north.
She tested each tile before crawling farther toward the precipice, the length of the convent away. Its dark line beckoned her like a primitive explorer who longed to find the flat edge of the world. It took longer to get halfway across the roof than she thought. At this pace, she would be outside at least a half hour. She crawled faster, hoping to get to her goal sooner.
Her nightgown caught on the edge of a tile. She hitched her gown past her knees and carried on, like a dog on all four paws. Her left foot slipped, but she saved herself by clutching the tiles with her hands. It was a long way down. She would have fallen north of the laundry, somewhere around the chapel, onto the grounds. Another surprise appeared as she closed in. The north section of the convent was joined to a longer extension of the building, like a T, going west for some distance. It was only one story, with a flat roof, and past it, a row of lamps lined a deserted road. This structure had to be the orphanage that Lea had talked about, where some of the nuns the Magdalens occasionally saw lived and worked.
She reached her destination, over the chapel, panting from her exertions. She lay flat on the sloping tiles, hooked her fingers over the edge, pulled forward, and peered over the side. Her heart raced at what she saw.
Below, a spiked iron fence rose from the ground less than a yard from the foundation. The drop to the earth was three yards at most. An escarpment swelled up to the wall, making an escape difficult but much more likely than from the south side of the convent. The fence was a problem. One had to avoid the spikes and swing far enough out to land on the slope leading down to the road. A Latin cross stood at the peak of the roof. It looked solid enough. A plan came to Teagan’s mind and she couldn’t wait to tell her friends.
Teagan looked west over the low building and marveled that the orphanage was so secluded from the main convent. The only way into it had to be through a north entrance, or perhaps the small west door in the chapel. She had wondered where it went to. She shuddered, thinking of the children who might have died there.
She took her time crawling back, savoring the fresh, cold air on her skin. The feeling was so unlike the heat and humidity of the laundry and the often stale atmosphere of the library. If she had to stay here forever, she could imagine spending her life on the roof. The calm, the beautiful dark, filled her with a sense of peace. A serenity that she had experienced only a few times in her life filled her. She knew she was making the right choice, convinced more than ever that she and her friends had to escape this sacred prison.
* * *
The next morning, Teagan was bursting to tell Nora about her plan. The other Magdalens were scurrying about, the garret awake for the day, so she had to remain silent. The moment to talk presented itself as they walked to the breakfast room.
“I made a discovery last night,” Teagan said discreetly.
Nora held on to the handrail as they descended.
“I’ll talk to Lea this afternoon.” She smiled at her friend. “I believe my plan will work.” The other girls were close behind, so talking was difficult. In particular, she didn’t want Patricia to hear. The girl had been an enemy since Nora had sprinkled her rolls with borax. “That’s all I can say.”
Nora reeled toward the wall and clutched the rail. Teagan let the others pass.
Teagan held on to her. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
“I’m fine, but I think the time has come to divulge the secret.”
Teagan balked, wondering how the nuns would react to Nora’s pregnancy. What if they sent her away? “Oh my God, we have to get you out of here! We all have to get out of here!”
Nora held up her hand. “I won’t be going anywhere, feeling like this. What use would I be to you?” She hitched her thumb toward the roof. “And if it involves gymnastics, you can count me out. Besides, I’ve had time to consider what happened when I left. What life do we have outside this convent?”
Teagan felt as if Nora had punched her in the gut. “You’re not giving up, are you?”
Nora shook her head and inched down the steps. “No, but I’m pregnant, for God’s sake.”
She helped her friend down the stairs. “I won’t let you give up. We can make this work—together. Lea is different—maybe she should stay here—but you and I need to get out.”
She and Nora joined the other Magdalens in the breakfast room. There was no chance of talking now. She looked out the window and sighed. Clouds had rolled in overnight. Dread welled up inside her, as oppressive as the leaden sky. The winter day closed around her. How much could she tak
e before she cracked? Dublin—Ireland—the whole world lay outside these grounds. If she found a way out, she would never come back. She would drown herself in the River Liffey before returning to The Sisters of the Holy Redemption. Forced servitude was no substitute for life.
Her breakfast of lukewarm tea, cold bacon, and toast turned her stomach. It was hardly enough to get a body started on a frosty morning.
Nora sat across the table, picking at her food. Her friend lifted her bacon, put half of it in her mouth, tried to chew, and then spit it out. She turned white and pursed her lips, as if she was holding back a retch.
Patricia raised her hands in alarm as she watched Nora. “Sister—”
“Shut up!” Teagan got up from her chair. “She’s fine, aren’t you, Nora?”
Nora nodded. “The bacon is bad.”
The other girls stopped in mid-bite and looked at their food.
“Thanks for ruining my appetite,” Patricia said.
“Anytime.” Nora smiled.
The meal dragged on as the girls kept their eyes on Nora. After breakfast, Teagan walked to the library while Nora descended to the laundry. Sister Rose was already at the library door with a basketful of lace that needed mending. The nun dropped the work beside the desk and gave instructions on what to do and how fast it needed to be completed. After Sister Rose left, Teagan gathered her tools and began repairing a tear on a woman’s Irish-lace handkerchief.
Before the noon meal, she found an opportunity to talk to Lea. “If we get enough fabric, we can make a rope to lower ourselves over the edge,” Teagan explained. “Sometimes things rip apart because they’re so old, or they fall to pieces in the dryer. Quite a few of the pieces are solid but the stains won’t come out. Sister Ruth marks the inventory book and explains to the customers what happened. The laundry’s been doing business for so long, and everyone trusts the nuns, so hardly anyone complains. The girls throw the scraps in a wicker basket that Mr. Roche empties once a day. I’ve seen it done many times.” She leaned in to Lea. “That’s where you come in. The nuns trust you more than any other Magdalen in the convent. Everything Nora and I get will have to be stowed under your bed until we have enough to make the rope. Will you do that for us?”
The Magdalen Girls Page 19