Unwed 💍

Chapter Thirty-Two: Baby Mine

"But, how will they explain Dottie's disappearance?" Izzy asked. "When she never returns home people are sure to start asking questions."

"Lord knows they'll make something up. Her father will never let it out that she was here," said Mara. "I've heard he is very resourceful."

"What about Sister Mary Helen and Sister Mary Thomas? They won't go along with it, will they?" Izzy asked.

Mara rolled her eyes. "It's amazing how easily a lie can be accepted when there's money and prestige involved," she said, her hand on the door. "Anyhow, Dottie's safe and that's all that matters. Now it's Gloria I'm worried about."

As Mara slipped out of the door, Izzy wondered how Sister Martha was coping, now that she was harboring two lies, one for Dottie's safety and another for Dottie's father's reputation.

She shifted her legs so that they dangled on the side of the bed, wincing at the dull pain in her crotch, a constant reminder of the baby she'd delivered. Her breasts were starting to swell and throb, Mara had told her it would last for a few days after the birth. She reached out and scooped up a piece of toast from her breakfast plate. She spread a dab of strawberry jam across it and slowly chewed, staring at the wall. Nothing seemed real.

"I want to go home," she said aloud, a tear traveling down her cheek.

It had been quiet for a while in the room next door where Francine had delivered her baby the night before. A boy, she'd heard them say. She was still reeling over Francine's predicament. She was thankful in a way that they were separated by the thick stone wall. She didn't know what she would say to her after finding out her secret.

But then, all of them were going to carry secrets for the rest of their lives. When they left the home they would leave their secrets with it. Another tear zigzagged down her cheek.

She would always have something to hide. Even if she was lucky enough to find a man to marry, she'd never be fully honest with him. She was tainted, damaged, lost.

Standing, she gripped the bed to steady herself, testing her legs. Satisfied that she wouldn't fall face first, she slowly made her way to the bathroom across the hall. It took several minutes, and a fist full of her nightgown clentched in her mouth, to pee. It stung terribly.

Washing her hands, she glanced at herself in the mirror and cringed. Pale skin, hollow eyes—her face was swollen and round. The skin on her belly hung limply around her waist. She immediately looked away, hating herself.

She needn't worry about keeping secrets from her future husband. There was no hope for her to marry. She was destined to live her life alone—an old maid.

"In fact," she thought, "I'll need an excuse to stay in my room when I return home."

If her friends saw her looking the way she did, their jaws would drop.

"Gee whiz, look at Izzy Twiss," they'd say. "She's really let herself go."

Sulking, she picked her way back towards her room.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Sister Mary Thomas' gruff voice caused her to stiffen, sending a jolt of pain through her body.

"You aren't supposed to leave the bed," the nun said. "If you need to use the bathroom, use the bedpan."

"Sorry," Izzy mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

The nun huffed. "Hurry on to bed. There will be visitors soon to the nursery. Can't have you girls walking the halls in nightgowns."