Delaney. Part XIX

Ten years later.

In the private dining room at the convent, Sister Shannon lifts a spoon of mashed potatoes mixed with a little beef broth to the mouth of Sister Mary Eunice. The woman yet wears the garb of a nun, but it is more wrinkled than she would have ever allowed in earlier years. Also, her habit is crooked. This is partly due to the quick dressing she received that morning and because of the depression in the back of her skull which makes it difficult to get the habit to sit right.

“Oh, Sister.” Shannon says with breathy aspiration. “I’m sorry to be feeding you so late. The girls were absolute beasts tonight, as you likely heard. They kept me and Sister Julien and Sister Orla running circles. Such a discontented lot. I don’t think it was ever so when you were in charge. Of course, back then we had nearly as many Sisters as there were girls. Now, with more than 20 girls and only the three of us it has become a frightful mess.”

Mary Eunice chews the mashed potatoes, a little broth and saliva running down the side of her mouth and onto the bib. Sister Shannon scrapes her mouth gently with the side of the spoon. As she lifts the spoon the mouth of Mary Eunice, Shannon unconsciously opens her own mouth and widens her eyes.

“It must grieve your heart to see the state of things. But with so few joining the order these past few years and such fertility amongst the women at the brothel I don’t know there’s much we can do.”

“Sister Shannon,” Julien bursts into the room, as full-bodied as she ever was, though with a better fitting tunic which she has finally taken in with needle and thread to suit her shape. “There is a skirmish that needs your attention. Darcel and Reny.”

The chair scrapes loudly as Sister Shannon leaps from the table, nearly tipping the chair backwards. She follows Julien to the hallway outside the dorm room where two pre-teen girls are rolling on the floor, red-faced and hammering away at one another. Sister Orla is trying to pull Darcel away, but the girl is big boned for her age and clinging now to Reny’s neck.

“Enough!” Sister Shannon says with uncharacteristic exasperation, her face nearly as red and creased with anger as the girls’.

“I’ve had enough of you two!” Her sharp tone spoken with rage and disappointment is so shocking that the girls separate and look to the furious nun dumbfounded.

“I’m finished. I am finished.” She stops to catch her breath and compose herself. “Tomorrow you will gather your belongings. We’ll let those at the Care Home in Drogheda put your energies to better use. Now get to bed!”

“But Sister,” Darcel says. “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t do that, Sister.” Reny pipes in. “We’re not invalids.”

“I can and I will. Now no more talk or I shall call a rickshaw to take you there this very night!”

The nun is so fierce and so convincing that both girls turn into the dorm room frightened and brushing away tears. But they do so silently, only partly believing that the Sister might actually act upon her words.

When the door to the dorm room is shut, Sister Shannon puts her face into her hands and breaks into stifled sobbing.

“I can’t do this anymore.” She says.

“I’ll finish feeding Sister Mary Eunice and bed her down,” Julien says. You and Sister Orla go relax in the sitting room. I managed to have a nap today. I will finish the evening chores and then we can go to Matins.

One benefit to the daily office in the Sister’s breviary is that when you have no words left for God, there are some written down for you. It is a grace for Sister Shannon tonight. One of the Psalms this evening is Psalm 13, and while there are many nights that Sister Shannon utters the words of the Matins in mindless tiredness, her thoughts drifting elsewhere, tonight she is fully present to the Psalm, particularly the first four verses:

How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
    How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
and my enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him,’
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

After the evening office the three nuns take their nightly whiskey before bed. The house is quiet, and they would like to savor a moment of wakeful silence. But for Sister Shannon, the time for quiet contemplation is over. She has spent the last ten years in such a posture, ever since Sister Mary Eunice was brought back to them in a near vegetative state and Shannon was required to fill her shoes. Whilst Mary Eunice is able to do a few simple tasks, she requires much attention.

“Were your threats to the girls idle, Sister Shannon?” Julien asks.

“They were spoken from a place of impatience, I’m afraid. Yes, Sister. In the end I do believe my words were idle. Our order was founded for the purpose of helping girls like Reny and Darcel. To send them away would be to revoke our calling. However, …”

Sister Shannon throws her head back and stares at the celling, remaining like that a moment. Then she takes a generous pull of her whiskey.

“We cannot manage the care of more than 20 girls and tend to Sister Mary Eunice adequately. Her convalescence here is simply not a ministry we are equipped to perform.”

“What are the alternatives?” Sister Orla asks. “There are no facilities in this area for nuns in Sister Mary Eunice’s condition.”

Sister Shannon has only to look hard at her companions without a word to spark some recognition in their faces.

“You can’t mean …” Sister Julien says quietly.

“They are equipped for such situations. And I understand that the cobbler section of the Care Home in Drogheda is actually quite pleasant.”

“You do know there’s a reason they call it a Murder Factory,” Sister Orla says with a trace of insolence.

“I know!” Sister Shannon’s voice is raised. Then she says it again under more control. “I know, Sister. But I see few alternatives. And there are rumors that the Drogheda Care Home has become one of the more compassionate facilities.”

“Compassionate?” Orla scoffs.

“There was a girl here with us some years ago. She was adopted by the man who owns the Care Home. I believe we can appeal to her to take a special interest in Sister Mary Eunice. Insure she gets decent care.”

“A girl from our convent?”

“Yes.” Shannon gives a knowing glance to Sister Julien who continues the story.

“Her name was Delaney. I, too, have heard that she has had a softening effect on the man. Conditions there have improved. She’d be in her late teens by now. I agree with Sister Shannon. There is some hope the young lady will be certain care is given to Sister Mary Eunice. The Sister was something of a mother figure to the girl. She delivered her when she was born and raised her here. Until we sent her to safety to live at the Friary.”

“Safety?”

“Yes,” Julien continues. There was some misunderstanding in town. Townsfolk were spooked by a mark the girl had on her arm and the druids thought they had some claim on the child. But that’s long blown over now. I think it may be best for everyone if we take Mary Eunice to the Drogheda Care Home.

****

“It feels strange,” says Magdalene as the steam powered ship pulls into the harbor in Drogheda, a blast from the whistle announcing their arrival.

“Strange to be in first class rather than steerage?” Asks Ash who has a hand around her waist.

She offers a sincere smile, caught up by his wit.

“Well, that too, I suppose. No, I mean it feels strange to be back here at this port. The sounds and smells are so familiar even though I passed through this port only a short time. Such a frightful time. It’s good for me. Good to make peace with the place.”

“Do you think she’ll be much changed?” Adrienne has shuffled next to Magdalene. She’s taller now. Not as tall as other eighteen-year-old women but she’s matured. Become womanly and taken on a certain elegance.

“Does she seem much changed in her letters?” Magdalene asks.

“Yes. I suppose we both are. We were only little girls when we were together last. Now she’s become a lady of note in a fine manor house. She sounds so proper in her letters.”

“Don’t let that discourage you,” Ash says. “Someone brought up as she was will likely hold on to some of her down-to-earth roots.

“But I must leave you ladies here to collect Jackson. The two of us will assign our luggage to one of the porters then come fetch you. First stop, the Corporate Arms to settle in and freshen up. Then to the Friary. Father is expecting us for lunch. After that I am certain Jackson will want us to call upon the Kelly family.”

“And then to Delaney?” Asks Adrienne.

“Tomorrow, I’m afraid, Adrienne. We’ve had an exhausting journey, and some of us have been up all night standing at the rail with the sea in our face.”

At this Ash gives a peck on the lips to his wife and she places a hand on his cheek as he does so. Then he is off to arrange their luggage.

****

“Such a tragedy what happened to Sister Mary Eunice.” Magdalene offers during their lunch with Father Fitzpatrick, Brother Doyle, and Brother Frank. She and Ash, along with Adrienne and Jackson are still quite tired from their journey but they appreciate the warm hospitality of the Brothers.

“Very sad indeed.” Replies Father. “So far as we can discern, she tripped badly on the way to the Cosgrove place. Hit her head hard upon a rock, and dragged herself back to the Friary, collapsing in the yard. Brother Frank here is kind enough to visit the Sisters from time to time.”

All eyes turn to the twenty-two-year-old Friar, when Adrienne says, “’Frank’ and ‘kind.’ Those are two words I never expected to hear together.”

“Nor may I add,” Says Brother Doyle. “’Frank’ and ‘Brother.’ You’re the last of the boys from that era I thought would’ve joined the order.”

“I must admit I was a brute back then. And as much as I regret my rudeness to you, Adrienne, I’m afraid Father can attest to the fact that my discourtesy to you was among my milder infractions.”

“So I’ve heard from Delaney.” She says. “What do you hear from her?”

“Actually, I intend to pay the Cosgroves a visit later this afternoon.” Frank says. “Would you like to accompany me?”

“Oh! Ash and Magdalene, may I?” She pleads.

Ash has learned to read Magdalene’s face since they cannot pass unspoken glances to one another to communicate. He sees the permission on her brow.

“I suppose the Kelly cottage will be crowded enough with the three of us. Can you deliver her back to the Corporate Arms by, say, nine o’clock? We’d like to be off early tomorrow to visit the Sisters in Dunleer.”

“I believe I can manage, If I may borrow the horse and cart, Father.”

“I don’t believe we have need of it this afternoon.” Doyle confirms with a nod. “Then yes, Brother Frank. You’re free to take Adrienne to meet Delaney. She’s quite changed since her stay here as an orphan boy.”

Adrienne does not know what to do with the surge of energy this opportunity is churning within her, so she claps her hands together and throws an enormous smile out from her hajib clad face.