“They said you were a roof?” The sister looked at her in complete bafflement and then began to laugh. “Oh, Miss Nellie, you really were out of it, weren’t you? You have a disease called shingles, my dear. But they’re not the kind you put on a roof! We don’t know a whole lot about the disease, but it comes on without much warning except for a sharp pain, as you described. Then the skin on one side of your body breaks out into pustules that look like chickenpox, except there are more of them, and they are closer together. They spread into a rash and then scab over. But unlike chickenpox, a second and third layer of the pustules can break out under the first scabs, and eventually, you have layers of scabs that look, actually, something like the shingles on a roof.”
“But I’ve had chickenpox and nursed children with chickenpox. People don’t get it a second time.”
“No, they get shingles instead. You’re in for a rough time of it, I’m afraid. Your first scabs are now beginning to form. You may have the lesions for several weeks before they all heal. And the pain may last much longer than that.”
“I can’t stay here. I have no money, no way to pay you There’s supposed to be a train ticket waiting for me at the station so I can go back to Pittsburgh. I think I should probably do that.” Nellie struggled to sit up and then cried out as some of her newly-formed scabs tore loose.
“Lie still, my child.” The soothingly cool hand smoothed her forehead again and brushed away her tears. “We ask nothing from you. We want to see you regain your health. When that day comes, if you want to repay us in some way, we’ll talk about it, but even that is not necessary. I’m going to have one of the novices bring you a cup of beef tea, and I want you to sip it slowly until you have finished every drop. Do you understand?”
“But . . . but. . . .”
“But nothing. You don’t ever argue with a nun. We always get our way. We have a powerful Force on our side, you see.”
In a few minutes, another knock came at the door, followed by a young girl in a simple gray dress. “Miss Chase? I’ve brought your beef tea.”
Nellie was not interested in the contents of the steaming mug the girl held. Instead, she focused on the girl herself. She was wearing the same high white collar as the older nun, and the same string of beads and cross dangled from her belt. But her hair, although smoothed back and twisted into a knot, was not covered by wimple or veil. “Hello. Please come in. Are you a nun or—what was the term the other nun used—a novice? Forgive me, but all of this is new to me.”
“Oh, I understand. I didn’t know what was going on when I first came here, either. I’m Sister Anne, and yes, I’m a novice.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means I’m still in training. I haven’t taken my final vows yet, but I will as soon as the sisters feel I am ready,” she answered with a grin. “I’m anxious to get my full habit.”
“Habit?”
“That’s what we call the gown and headdress we wear. This simple dress is temporary.”
“And how will they know when you are ready?” Nellie asked.
“I have to work my way through a series of chores and prove I can do them well and cheerfully, for one thing. Like this,” she said, gesturing with the mug she still held. “My job for the next two weeks is to feed you so you can regain your strength. I’m to bring you six small meals a day, making sure they are all nourishing and designed to encourage your appetite. Sister Mary Xavier said to start with beef tea and work from there.”
“I’ve never heard of beef tea, and I’m sure I don’t want to know how you turn a cow into tea. But I’ll drink it if that’s your job.”
Sister Anne giggled, revealing how young she still was. “At home, Ma would call it beef soup, but Sister thinks ‘tea’ makes it sound healthier.”
Nellie took a sip and found it surprisingly tasty. “Unmmm. It does taste good. Thank you, Sister Anne. I’m sorry you’re going to be so busy on my account. Six meals a day may be excessive. I could do with less.”
“No, you couldn’t. Sister Mary Xavier would have me scrubbing floors again if she thought I had slacked off on my assignment.”
“So you’ll be cooking for the next two weeks?”
“Yes, that, and singing the Hours seven times a day.” Sister Anne still smiled brightly.
“Singing the . . . what?”
“The Hours. Oh, I keep forgetting you’re not a Catholic. The Hours are short worship services in the chapel. We read the Psalms, sing a hymn, and share in the prayers of the day. There isn’t a full mass or anything except once a day. The Hours come about every three hours, marking the passage of the day from dawn till dark. In a way, it’s how we keep track of our time.”
“So—seven Hours, six meals—you’ll be feeding me between each service. Is that right?” Sister Anne nodded happily. “But what if I’m not hungry? That shouldn’t reflect on you.”
“Oh, you’ll be hungry. Sister Mary Xavier says so. Besides, the food is really good here. We are pretty self-sufficient. We raise our own cows and chickens, so the milk and eggs are always fresh. We grow our own fruits and vegetables and put up our own produce for the winter. We bake our own bread, churn our own butter, and make our own cheese.”
Nellie held up her hands to stop the flow of words. “I get the idea. I’ll try to be hungry.”
“I’ll be really grateful,” Sister Anne confided. “I’ve had some problems learning to obey orders, and I want to fulfill this job perfectly. Oh, no! What did I say?” she gasped as Nellie’s tears erupted once again. “I’m not supposed to make you cry.”
Nellie gulped and sniffed to regain control. “It wasn’t your fault. You just reminded me I’ve had some trouble with obeying orders, too. In fact, disobedience is what landed me in this predicament.”
“Well, the Sisters of Charity will take care of that, I promise. They ‘have their ways’ as Sister Mary Xavier keeps reminding me. Now, I have to be off to Compline, while you finish your beef tea. Then I’ll be bringing you something else—oh, I know! We had a nice custard for supper tonight. How does that sound?”
“It sounds wonderful, Sister Anne.”
“Then I’ll be back in a bit. Mustn’t be late for Hours.” She called over her shoulder as she scampered out the door.
Nellie watched her go, shaking her head at the girl’s energy—so unlike her own exhaustion as she lay back in her bed. She’s about my age, she thought, but what a difference between us. I wonder if that’s what I would have been like if I hadn’t lost my innocence so early.
The next morning another nun joined the team taking care of Nellie. “This is Sister Verona,” announced Sister Anne, nodding back over her shoulder. “She’s going to care for your rash. But first, I’ve brought you a nice soft-boiled egg and a piece of dry toast. Eat every bit of it, mind you, along with your tea—real tea, this time, not that beef stuff,” she said. And she was gone, bouncing out of the room as if she could not wait to see what the new day would bring.
“She’s really charming. But she makes me tired just to watch her.”
“I know what you mean,” Sister Verona agreed. “Ah, the resilience of youth!” Sister Verona was elderly. A wisp or two of wiry gray hair escaped her wimple, and the skin around her eyes puckered into deep crevices when she smiled. Still, she seemed lovely to Nellie. There was something serene and comforting about her.
“I’ve been chosen to take over your medical care because I’m the only one of the working sisters who has actually had shingles.”
“Am I that contagious?” Nellie asked in alarm.
“Oh. No. Well, maybe to small children. They sometimes get chickenpox after being around a shingles patient. We’re not sure why. But you won’t see any children for a while. No. I’m here because I can understand what you are going through. There’s no pain like it, is there? When I had the Belt, I was sure I was going to die, and then afraid I wouldn’t.”
“What did you call it?”
“The Belt. It�
�s sometimes called that because it wraps itself around your waist like a belt, although only on one side, for some reason. Anyway, that’s why it hurts so much, you see. The pain is not just in front, or just in back, but all the way through your body. And even when the rash goes away, you’ll feel the pain deep inside for a long time.”
“So I’m not being weak and silly?” Nellie’s eyes overflowed again. “I can’t stop crying, and it makes me feel even more helpless to lie here blubbering like a baby.”
“Tears can be healing, my child. Don’t try to stop them. You have good reason to cry, and you’ll be doing a great deal more of it before we’re through. You’re going to feel helpless and full of despair. For the next couple of weeks, you may be so engulfed in a dark cloud of misery that you won’t be able to see your way out. It will pass, I promise, and I’ll be here to help you along.”
Nellie reached out and clutched her hand in gratitude.
“Now, then,” said Sister Verona, suddenly all business. “Push down that sheet and open your gown. I’ve brought some warm compresses soaked in baking soda water to ease the itching of your rash, and I don’t want them growing cold.” She opened the covered pan she had been carrying and began to work. Nellie winced the first time she was touched. Then she relaxed as the warmth soothed her.
The routine lasted for days. Nellie slept a great deal, waking when Sister Anne appeared with her small meals. The food was indeed delicious, and Sister Anne procured one tasty dish after another to tempt Nellie’s appetite: garden vegetable soups, melted cheese on toast, porridge full of little surprises of raisins or dates, eggs shirred in cups or scrambled lightly, casseroles of baked root vegetables, rice pudding. As promised, the food was fresh and delicious, and, although Nellie would have sworn she would never be hungry again, she found herself beginning to look forward to each small tray.
The rash, too, improved. Sister Verona kept up a running report. The inflamed edges were starting to shrink, no fresh pustules, the scabs drying up nicely. “You’re going to be lucky,” she said. “Youth has its advantages. In your case, you are a quick healer, and that will shorten the time you have to deal with the pain.”
“The dark cloud you described is still there, however. How long is it going to take for me to feel happy again?”
“Happy? I don’t know. We don’t think much about being happy here. But I’m hopeful you will soon start to feel more contented.”
“Contented? I don’t even want that. I want to feel useful again. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. I want people to need me,” Nellie tried to explain.
“In time,” was the only comfort Sister Verona had to offer.
Several weeks later, Sister Verona rinsed away the last of the crusty patches and spread a soothing lotion over the newly healed skin. “There!” she announced, “I think we can say your shingles attack is officially over. The skin will be a bit tender for a while, but it will soon toughen up.”
“I’m truly grateful,” Nellie said, reaching out to squeeze the gentle hand. “You’ve been kind. But I’m ready to get back to work.”
“You still have a ways to go,” Sister Verona cautioned. “Don’t be planning to pack up and head out the door just yet. You’ve been in bed a long time. Sister Mary Xavier sent this dressing gown for you. She wants you to practice sitting up in the chair by the window for a while. Then she’ll be in for a little chat.”
“I’ll be fine,” Nellie assured her as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Then she clutched frantically at the bed clothes to steady herself as the room spun madly away from her for a moment. “Oh, dear,” she said, pressing her eyelids together to keep from seeing the tilting walls.
““You’re just a bit dizzy, Nellie. Your body has to readjust to being vertical. It will pass in a moment.”
When Nellie could breathe again, Sister Verona helped her to make her slow way across the room to the waiting chair. Nellie was shocked at how unsteady her legs were. “You don’t have to worry about me running away just yet.” But by the time Sister Mary Xavier arrived for her visit, Nellie was feeling much stronger.
“How nice to see you up,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m better,” Nellie assured her. “There’s still some pain, but I can handle that.”
“As far as your physical health goes, I’m sure you can, but you’re still sad, aren’t you?”
“No, no. I’m really fine,” Nellie responded. Then she was horrified to feel the smile on her lips wobble as the ever-present tears began to flow again. “I’m sure I’m just tired from the day’s exertion,” she said.
“You may lie to others all you please, Nellie, but don’t lie to yourself. Come, let’s move out onto the airing porch. It’s a lovely warm day, and I think you could use some fresh air.”
Nellie moved gingerly toward the door, but her steps quickened as she caught sight of the autumn foliage on the hill outside. “Summer’s over, already. The trees have all turned. I’ve been here a long time, haven’t I?”
“How long you’ve been here is not a problem. But let’s talk a bit, and let’s be honest. When you came to us, you said something about being a great sinner. In the convent, we believe that it is necessary to confess all sins in order to have them forgiven.”
Nellie felt an unexpected flush of anger. “I’m not a member of your convent; I’m just a patient. And, if you remember, I also told you I am not a Catholic. I don’t believe in going to confession.” She was defiant and astonished at the same time that she had found the strength to defy this powerful figure.
“I’m not about to send you to the confessional, Nellie. I’m simply talking about admitting to yourself, and perhaps to someone else who cares about you, that you have made mistakes. If you can’t do that—if you deny the guilt you are obviously feeling— you won’t be able to get past it.”
“Is it guilt I’m feeling? I thought it was shingles.” Nellie glared at her.
“You are desperately unhappy, whether you admit it or not. Something terrible has happened to you. It may have even precipitated the shingles attack. We often find shingles patients are undergoing some other great crisis in their lives. Then the physical pain combines with the emotional misery to compound the depth of both.”
Nellie sat with her head bowed for several minutes, trying to absorb what she had been told. Finally she looked up apologetically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you are trying to help.”
“I can only help if you let me.”
‘Well, my sin was one of disobedience and ingratitude. I seem to be compounding that.”
Sister Mary Xavier simply waited.
“All right. You know, I suppose, that I am . . . was . . . the regimental nurse for the Pennsylvania Roundheads. They are a kindly and godly regiment. Colonel Leasure took me in when I desperately needed a place to go. They have been nothing but good to me. I grew angry with the colonel when he thwarted a new plan I had hatched. I wanted to stay behind when the regiment left, so that I could establish a school for the slave children I had met in South Carolina. He wouldn’t let me do it, and then he wouldn’t let me take my kitten with me when we broke camp. Cotton is still young, and she’s deaf. Her mother cat never taught her to do things like feed herself, and I couldn’t leave her.
“So, I smuggled her aboard our ocean transport. I thought I could hide her in my cabin, and nobody would have to be the wiser. I guess I forgot she was a kitten. She got out and went streaking through the ship. She scared the general into making a fool of himself, and then, of course, he took his embarrassment out on the colonel. The colonel scolded me for disobeying him. He fired me and took the kitten away.” Nellie sniffled despite herself.
“You did disobey him.”
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