Unwed 💍

Chapter Twenty-Four: I'll Never Be Free

A chill spread through Izzy as she thought of her mother receiving the call. She was sure she would disown her, put her out of the house and onto the street when she returned. It was bad enough she'd gotten pregnant. A call from Sister Mary Thomas would surely to push her mother all the way over the edge.

"Please don't," she whispered, trying to avoid the desperation in Dottie's eyes. "I'm just worried about Dottie, she's so little, and so scared. She needs somebody there who she trusts."

Sister Mary Thomas smirked, knowing she had the upper hand."I believe I've told you before, Izzy. This is no place for fraternizing. This isn't high school and it's most definitely not a place to form sisterly bonds. The girl will be fine." She pushed Dottie forward.

"Izzy," Dottie said, looking back at her with tears streaming down her cheeks.The little girl's entire body shook, threatening to topple over at any minute. "Izzy! You have to come with me!"

"I can't," Izzy mouthed, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Come now, you silly girl, or you'll have this baby standing here!" Sister Mary Thomas urged her forward despite the girl's cries.

"Izzy...Izzy!"

The girl bucked against the nun's grip, her arms flailing towards Izzy, who stood helplessly in front of her. Sister Mary Thomas fumbled and nearly fell on top of her as her legs buckled beneath her and she fell to her knees on the floor.

"For heaven's sake!" the nun hissed, grabbing her under the arms and raising her up. "Get a hold of yourself!"

Sister Mary Helen breezed past and took a hold of one arm as Sister Mary Thomas grasped the other. They struggled to drag the little girl down the hall. Dottie struggled against them, kicking and screaming Izzy's name. Behind them, the sanctuary grew eerily quiet as the girls started to turn towards the commotion, their arms around the backs of the pews, faces solemn. Dottie was the youngest girl in the home, and most girls knew why she was there.

"Such childish behavior for a girl your age!" spat Sister Mary Thomas as they struggled down the hallway to the stairs. "You'd think we were carrying a toddler throwing a tantrum because she didn't get her way."

"Relax, Dottie." Sister Mary Helen's voice faded as they made their way down the stairs, "It will be alright."

"Come on back to the sanctuary," Sister Martha's hand rested gently on Izzy's shoulder, drawing her out of her daze. She had no idea how long she'd stood there after Dottie disappeared down the stairs.

The nun's eyes were soft. "Don't worry, Dottie will be just fine."

Dottie's voice echoed in her ears when Izzy dropped down numbly on the hard pew. Her vision blurred as she focused on her hands, the feeling of betrayal coursing through her veins. Tears tore at her throat, threatening to explode. As the girls continued to chant their verses, she tried to fight the bitter taste of bile that rose in her throat as she pictured Dottie's face. A metallic taste filled her mouth, and she realized she was bearing down on the inside of her cheek.

Francine, seated next to her, put her hand on top of hers. The gesture prompted tears to boil over in her eyes. She let them fall without bothering to wipe them away.

"She'll be okay," whispered Francine. "She'll understand why you couldn't be there."

Izzy's eyes rose to the wooden crucifix, to the face of Jesus, who seemed to be scrutinizing her from the altar. 

She'd promised Dottie she'd be there. Her stomach churned, propelling vomit up her throat. Her hands to her mouth, she sprang from her seat and hurried back down the aisle to the bathroom. She'd barely reached the stall when the vile liquid came bursting out, dribbling onto the front of her dress. Her gut wrenched, but the feeling of betrayal over powered it.