A groan erupted from the Magdalens, followed by a few grumblings about the lack of comfort.
Teagan glared at the others, incensed that all they could think about was having a comfortable bed, as if those in the garret were any prize. She kept her mouth shut, however, because everyone’s nerves were frayed.
Tea was served from the carts, and it was better than most that had been served in the past months, with a good serving of beef, potatoes, and gravy. Perhaps the nuns and the cooks felt sorry for the girls.
Sister Rose conducted the evening prayers in front of the wide bank of windows in the library. Behind her, the sun set in red-hued splendor. Later, additional mattresses were hauled in by the fire service and a few helpful priests Teagan had never seen before.
After tea, the Magdalens were allowed to use the toilet and gather their bedding and clothing from the garret. Lea’s clothes were spread across her mattress, as if she had arranged them for later use. Teagan gathered her things quickly, happy to be out of the room that held so many memories of her friend.
The girls climbed into their makeshift beds. Nora rocked on her heels in the corner. The lingering smell of smoke permeated the air, but had lessened from the overpowering stench of the morning. The fire service had turned the fans to a low setting, creating a constant breeze, which brushed over the Magdalens.
Sister Mary-Elizabeth crept into the room and squatted next to Nora. She attempted to lift her, but Nora collapsed on her side, her legs continuing their restless motion. Frustrated, the nun left Nora and came to Teagan’s bed.
“I don’t know what to do,” the Sister whispered to her. “I’m at me wits’ end. I think she should go to the Penitent’s Room for her own safety.”
Teagan sat up, horrified by the suggestion. “Sister, it would kill her. She’s fragile enough as she is. Look at her—I’m not sure she’s ever coming back to us.”
The nun stared at Nora and then shook her head. “Perhaps you’re right, but we can’t watch her twenty-four hours a day. If she doesn’t come around, the Mother Superior will send her away.”
“I’ll sleep by her. Let’s pull her mattress next to mine. I’ll hold on to her, and if she moves, I’ll know.”
Sister Mary-Elizabeth smiled. “Now look who’s showing the patience of a saint? That’s an excellent idea—but you know it’ll be back to the laundry with you in the morning. You’ll be knackered.” The nun pursed her lips. “You’ll need another uniform. What happened to it?”
“I left it at my parents’ house,” Teagan said. She didn’t want to tell the nun that she had left her apron at Cullen’s and her uniform in her parents’ garbage bin. She reached into the dress pocket and felt the bills that remained from Cullen’s five-pound note. They reminded her that there was a life outside of the convent. As far as she was concerned, her escape had accomplished little except retribution. She had spent nearly two days in the Penitent’s Room, with little to eat and drink. If it hadn’t been for Lea, she might be dead now from smoke. Her friend had saved her.
Nora needed her now. She couldn’t leave now if she had the chance. She had to help her friend get well, help her grieve the loss of her baby. I’ll stay for her. No one else. I promised her. Teagan looked squarely at Sister Mary-Elizabeth. “I’m no saint, but Nora needs me and I’ll do what I can to help her.”
“I’ll talk to the Mother Superior. She may have another idea about how to handle Nora—like the Penitent’s Room, or something worse—but I’ll try to talk her out of it.”
“Where is Sister Anne?” Teagan asked. “She hasn’t been here all day.”
“I think she’s praying. She spent most of her time wandering through the wreckage. She’s said very little to anyone.” The nun pointed to Nora’s empty mattress. “Help me get it next to you and then let’s get Nora . . . I mean, Monica.”
They carried the bedding and placed it next to Teagan. They hooked their arms under Nora’s, lifted her to her feet, and dragged her to the bed. Nora fell on it in a heap and curled into a fetal position.
“She’s like a child now,” Sister Mary-Elizabeth said. “You’ll have to watch her like one.”
“I will.”
Teagan settled beside her friend. Nora whimpered and kept her hands near her face as if she was protecting herself from a nightmare.
The nun turned off the overhead lamps, but the stark light from the hall poured through the open door. The Magdalens seemed restless, Teagan thought, uncomfortable with their new surroundings. They coughed and tossed and turned long into the night. She covered Nora with a blanket and held on to her waist as the hours passed. Sleep was fitful, as she thought about what Nora must be going through. Nothing could be worse than the death of your child.
* * *
No doubt remained. She fought the anxiety, the gut-wrenching thirst for revenge that filled her. The brown manila folder’s contents lay scattered across her bed like fall leaves.
Sister Anne had dreaded this day, pushed it back at all cost, refused to let it get the better of her. For months, she refused to believe what she suspected, while every instinct inside betrayed her intuition. Why did she have to relive something so terrible?
The cuts from the silver blades ached on her arms, and she fought against the siren call of laceration. Instead, she took a pair of gloves from her drawer, put them on, and bound her wrists with an elastic band. Her fingers could move comfortably.
She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to believe it—but in her mind the thought had always been there, like the twinkling of a far-away star in the night sky. She had anticipated this nightmare from the beginning. Now it descended upon her like a malevolent spirit, threatening to overwhelm her.
The horrors of the day were too much: the fire, Lea’s death, the death of Monica’s baby, the destruction of the orphanage, the displacement of her loyal staff. What did these events say about her powers as an administrator? The diocese leaders were sure to wring their hands, wag their tongues, and question her abilities. They might even remove her as the Mother Superior. How could she be trusted to run a convent? Her credibility had been destroyed in one terrible day.
She crossed her arms and held them close to her body to keep from shaking.
After she settled down, she reached with her bound hands for the top page of the report. If she looked at it again, perhaps the type would magically change. A pen, an eraser, a strike across the name with a felt pen and the name would be obliterated. However, no magic, no deletion could change the facts. To conceal the truth was futile. Unquestionably, there were copies of the documents that lay across her bed.
The name cut into her eyes. Sarah Brennan. Her sister. Death had come after a long labor and a caesarean that her sister and mother had put off until the last possible moment. Sister Anne had urged them to act sooner, but Sarah had insisted on a natural childbirth, until, of course, her body began to fail. By the time the doctor cut the baby girl out, several blood clots had traveled to Sarah’s lungs and then onward to her heart. She was dead within the hour. The drugs were administered too late. Too late. Everything was too late! Sarah’s face had turned blue, constricted by death. Her mother watched in horror as they pulled the bloody sheet over Sarah’s face. Sister Anne cried until she could only sputter, and remembered hating the baby that squirmed nearby in a crib. She wanted nothing to do with the child; she even refused to visit it in the hospital. Her mother withered at home. When the infant was strong enough, she was adopted.
Sister Anne shook her head. The family was named Tiernan. They called the little girl Teagan. A respected Catholic family had adopted her sister’s child, and sixteen years later they had met again—resurrecting the memories of her sister’s death.
Sister Anne had loved Sarah so much the pain never seemed to subside. Her sister had been the ideal child, a loving and helpful girl who always had a kind word and often wiped away her tears. Their mother was a nervous sort. Sarah added stability to the family when their fa
ther deserted them. Losing her sister was like losing a parent.
So much came back to her when she saw Teagan on the steps: the gait; the high cheekbones; the curve of the jaw; the tall, lean form. She knew for certain when the paperwork was presented, but she had wanted to believe there was another Teagan Tiernan, even though the coincidence was too much. For months, she had wanted nothing to do with the penitent, only to punish her when necessary, make Teresa’s life as hard and painful as her sister’s. But no revenge could ameliorate the toll exacted on Sarah. No punishment would be sweet enough.
She had even decided to put Teresa, as she called her, on the lace-mending table. It was a hobby her sister had excelled at. She would give her sister’s daughter a taste of the craft—a torturous pleasure, she hoped.
That was how she felt until today. Now the world was crumbling around her. Her punishments hadn’t worked; if anything, they had made a few of the Magdalens, like Teresa and Monica, more unruly. It was true that Patricia, Betty, and a few other girls had found a home with The Sisters of the Holy Redemption, but many had decayed into nothing at all. They might as well have been automatons, tending the laundry, mending lace, saying prayers, eating, sleeping. But that was how duties were conducted at the convent. No one, certainly not the Church, ever remarked on the day-to-day operations.
Sister Mary-Elizabeth had told her what Teresa was doing—sleeping by Monica’s side. That was love in its highest sense. She thought of the LOVE blocks on her desk, the ones she had taken from the crib in her sister’s room. The ones intended for the new baby. They sat on her desk offering a message to all the Magdalens. Until today, she hadn’t understood its true meaning. The LOVE blocks had been a consequence of her hatred, not affection.
She dropped the page on the bed and got up. The green oaks and Scotch pines outside her window seemed bleak in the encroaching dusk. Every now and then, the itchy smell of smoke entered her nose. She couldn’t see the destroyed orphanage from her room. However, the destruction was real, and it would still be there tomorrow when the sun came up. That was a reality, among many, she couldn’t deny.
She knelt at the foot of her bed and looked up at the crucifix. Somehow there was more truth in her prayers tonight than there had been in years. Sister Anne lowered her head and prayed that in the morning she would find the strength to exorcise the demons in her heart.
* * *
Sister Mary-Elizabeth awakened the Magdalens after what seemed a short night.
Teagan had slipped away from her hold on Nora. Her friend opened her eyes when the nun’s early morning call came, but did nothing else.
The nun announced that the chapel was still too smoky, so she conducted a short matins service in the old library, mentioning Lea and the baby. She then ordered the Magdalens upstairs to change for breakfast and work. Not only was there laundry to be done, but the convent needed to be scrubbed, to rid the rooms of smoke and grit.
Teagan remained with her friend as the other girls hurried out. The nun stood over Nora’s bedside, a quizzical look on her face.
“Nora. Nora?” Teagan shook her friend’s shoulder. Nora’s eyes closed and she curled into a ball. Teagan looked up at the nun.
“Leave her be,” Sister Mary-Elizabeth said. “There’s nothing we can do. She will either come around or Sister Anne will send her to the asylum. She’s no use to us here and we can’t watch her the whole livelong day.”
“But she’ll die,” Teagan said. “The asylum will kill her. Please tell Sister Anne not to be hasty.”
The nun looked down on her, her lips tightly drawn. “You can tell the Mother Superior yourself. She wants to see you after breakfast.”
She thought of the two nights spent in the Penitent’s Room and how she might have been killed from smoke inhalation if Lea hadn’t saved her. “What is this about? More punishment?” she asked, getting up from her mattress.
“I have no idea what the Mother Superior wants.” She crossed herself. “I’ll pray for your repentance.” She bent over, studying Nora’s face. “I suppose she’ll be all right here. It doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere. You’d best go along now. Don’t keep Sister Anne waiting.” She walked away, leaving Teagan alone with Nora.
Teagan knelt beside her friend. “Nora, if you can hear me, please listen. Listen with all your might.” She touched her shoulder. “If you don’t get up, if you don’t move, Sister Anne is going to send you away. You’re not going to like an asylum one bit. You’re not crazy—just crippled with grief. If you think living here is bad, think about what it’ll be like living there.” She sighed and brushed back Nora’s unruly hair with her fingers. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to wake up . . . I have to go. Think about what I’ve said.” She cringed at the thought of Nora dying slowly from physical and mental stagnation.
Many of the Magdalens had taken care of their morning duties and were on their way to breakfast as Teagan trudged up the stairs. As she climbed the steps, she looked down on the Penitent’s Room and the chapel doors. Her nose twitched at the smell of charred wood still drifting through the air. The thought of talking with Sister Anne depressed her. The Mother Superior would be in a foul mood after yesterday’s events. What did she want? More punishment, penance, an account of her escape? Whatever Sister Anne wanted, she wasn’t looking forward to it.
She took off her blue dress and threw it on her old bed. The nun who slept there now would have to deal with it. She showered, got into a clean uniform, which Sister Ruth had provided, and ate breakfast. The room was glum. None of the Magdalens wanted to return to work; their routine had been shattered by the fire. Even the food failed to measure up to the previous night’s dinner: lukewarm oats, a charred piece of toast, and a strip of soggy bacon.
Teagan ate as much as she could stomach and then followed the girls down the steps. While the others continued to the laundry room, she turned into Sister Anne’s office. The Mother Superior sat at her desk, absorbed in her work, the LOVE blocks displayed in front of her. The room was brighter than Teagan had ever seen it. Because of the fire, the drapes and windows were open, letting a fresh late summer breeze flow through the room.
Sister Anne looked up when she heard footsteps. She pointed to the chair in front of the desk.
Teagan sat.
The Mother Superior got up and closed the door.
They were alone now. A queasy feeling struck Teagan’s stomach.
Sister Anne sat stiff-backed in her chair and gazed at the files on her desk. She picked up a letter and pushed it across the desk. It had been sent with no stamp or return address. Teagan didn’t recognize the handwriting.
“Go ahead, read it,” the nun said flatly. “It was delivered yesterday by the sender. He dropped it off at the gate with Mr. Roche.” There was no smile on her face, no sarcastic grin; in fact, the Mother Superior showed no emotion.
“I had to read it,” the nun explained. “I’m required to read letters that arrive for the Magdalens . . . you understand.”
Teagan pulled the sheet of folded paper from the envelope. It was from Cullen.
“The Guards told me you were with him—Cullen.”
The Mother Superior was strangely calm, as if her mind was on more important issues.
Teagan nodded. She couldn’t deny it. There was no reason to. She opened the letter. Cullen apologized for what he felt was a betrayal, but wrote that he had no choice when questioned by his parents. The neighbor had done them in. He also professed his affection for her and promised that when he turned eighteen, and had the legal means to secure it, he would rescue her from the convent. She blushed and stuffed the letter back into the envelope.
“Marriage is a holy vow between a man and a woman,” Sister Anne said. “Not one to be taken lightly. Do you understand the obligations and responsibilities of marriage?”
“Of course,” Teagan said. “I also know what it’s like to live in a home where marriage is a struggle, a loveless union.”
The Mother Su
perior nodded. “Practically useless except for bearing children.”
“I have no intention of having sex, or getting married, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Teagan studied the Mother Superior. The nun’s eyes were clouding with tears.
“I’ve prayed for you, Teresa.” Sister Anne looked at her. “I’ve made it my life’s work to eradicate evil, particularly sexual thoughts, from the Magdalens who enter these halls. But no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t seem to be enough.”
“You’re wrong,” Teagan said, her voice suffused with anger. “You’ve beaten any life out of us. Look around you—look at the women who are here, like Betty. What would she do if she was turned out on the street? She’d be like a child, or feel like a prisoner in her freedom, like I did. I felt useless and sad in my own home, trapped by guilt and despair, because that’s how I’ve come to see myself in one year. Useless—a sinner who can never be redeemed.”
Sister Anne walked to an open window. “Look how beautiful it is—the grass, the trees in leaf. Ireland can be so lovely in the summer.” She put her hands on the casement for a few moments, then turned and asked, “Did you sleep with him?”
Teagan shifted in her chair, taken aback by the directness of the Mother Superior’s question. “It’s none of your business . . . but I didn’t. I’ve never slept with a man.” She paused. “And I’ve never seduced a man, despite what Fathers Matthew and Mark might say.”
Sister Anne walked to her desk and pointed to the LOVE blocks. “Would you like to know where I got these?”
Teagan shrugged. She knew Sister Anne would tell her despite what she wanted. The Mother Superior seemed on firmer ground now, more like her old self.
The Magdalen Girls Page 28