Izzy sat, her elbows on the wooden table, forcing herself to swallow the lukewarm milk in front of her. By the looks the other girls were giving her, and the hushed whispers that drifted through the large dining hall, she sensed word had spread about Rita. The milk slid down her throat, heartburn instantly accompanying it. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she watched the doorway, waiting for one of the nuns to enter the room. She hoped to see some sort of answer on their face. She tapped her spoon on the table subconsciously. She felt so helpless, so useless. There was nothing she could do but wait.
Dottie stiffened next to her, and she turned to see Sister Mary Thomas had appeared from the kitchen, wiping her thick hands on a towel. The nun surveyed the tables until her eyes landed in their direction. With a snap of the towel she trudged over, her mouth set in a firm line.
She came to rest in front of them, her hands on her wide hips. A forced smile curled on her lips as she stared down at Dottie. "How are you today Dottie?" she said.
She patted the girl roughly on the arm, causing her to flinch. The sound of her voice made Izzy conjure up an image of a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"I—I'm well, thank you." Dottie whispered.
"Well, if there's anything you need, you just let me know." The nun squeezed her shoulder. She turned to Izzy and Gloria, her eyes hard as steel. "I'll see you two in the kitchen after you've finished." She raised her eyebrows when their faces paled. "What? Did you think you were getting off that easy? Leaving the home grounds without permission is a serious violation." She turned on her heel and stomped away, back towards the kitchen.
Within seconds of the nun's departure, Gloria leaned forward, looking past Izzy to Dottie on her other side. "Was it worth it?" she hissed. "Betraying your friends so that you could have that devil on your side?"
"Gloria!" Izzy gave her a stern look.
"I'd just like to know why she did it, that's all," Gloria pouted, sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed.
Izzy flashed Dottie a look. She'd been wondering the same thing, only her concern for Rita had nearly drowned out the thought completely.
Dottie winced. She looked from side to side, then leaned close to Izzy and whispered, "I went to the stairs. I wanted to see it too—the lake. She came up behind me. I was scared. I thought she'd beat me."
"So you just had to tell her everything?" Gloria gave her a look of disgust.
"She said she'd tell my parents if I didn't," Dottie added, her eyes widening.
Izzy sighed. "It's alright, Dottie. Anybody else would have done the same thing."
Gloria huffed and snatched up her plate. "Well, it's off to the kitchen. Let's see how much worse our day will get." She stood and brushed the crumbs from her skirt. "Come on, Izzy," she called over her shoulder.
Just as Izzy stood, Sister Mary Helen walked through the doorway. The nun looked away instantly when she spotted her. It wasn't a good sign. Izzy's heart fell as she trailed after Gloria.
Sister Mary Thomas was waiting for them in the kitchen. She scowled when she saw them, throwing a handful of herbs into a bubbling pot. Her thick finger pointed to a huge sack of potatoes that rested against the wall. "You can start by peeling all of those," she said.
Finished, she turned, stirring the contents of the pot with a large ladle. The girls each grabbed a knife from the counter, and set to peeling. A few other girls who'd been assigned to clean up duty bustled in and out, their arms full of dirty dishes. Izzy watched them as they came and went. A couple of them had huge, protruding bellies. They had to be close to having their babies.
In a strange way, it was comforting to Izzy to keep her hands busy as she ran the sharp knife under the peels. It kept her mind from replaying all of the horrible events that had happened so far. The kitchen was warm and moist, a welcome climate compared to the cold stone rooms. She settled herself on a crate. Just when she'd achieved a small bit of peace, Sister Mary Thomas's voice cut in.
"You two will be under my charge for the rest of this week."
Izzy looked up at the nun. She hadn't turned, but she was sure there was a snicker hiding behind her lips. Next to her, Gloria blew out a frustrated sigh that proved to be a little too loud. Sister Mary Thomas spun around, the ladle in her hand, hot liquid flinging in all directions. "Is there a problem?"
"No, Sister." they both replied in unison.
At her side, Izzy caught Gloria gripping the knife in her hand, her knuckles white. Please, don't do anything stupid, she prayed silently. The nun's eyes swept over them. "Good," she spat, and turned back around.
After a relieved sigh, Izzy gave Gloria a stern look. The pure hatred in Gloria's eyes set her heart on full speed. She watched as, with renewed vigor, Gloria went back to peeling the potatoes, the knife jabbing violently at them.
An hour later, the other girls were busy washing the last few pots in the sink. Sister Mary Thomas turned the fire off the stove and wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel. Her peppered hair frizzed out wildly around her face from the heat. She turned to check Izzy and Gloria's progress. The sack was half empty. Her dark brows came down as she eyed the peeled potatoes in a bowl beside them. "Such a waste. You're taking most of the potato with the skins. Didn't your mothers teach you anything about a woman's duties?" Her eyes narrowed on Gloria, "Then again, I wouldn't expect as much from your mother—."
With lightning speed, Izzy clamped down on Gloria's arm—just as it lifted, gripping the knife. "We'll be more careful with the rest of them, Sister," she said, her heart thumping in her chest.
Through some act of God, Sister Mary Thomas didn't notice.
"When you're finished, dust and polish the banister, and all of the window sills," the nun continued, wiping more sweat from her forehead. "You'll find the supplies you need in the closet under the stairs."
"Dry those dishes well!" She yelled towards the other girls near the sink. "I won't have mold growing in my kitchen." She stormed out.
Izzy immediately turned to Gloria, who sat jabbing at another potato, a look of fury on her face. "Are you crazy?" she asked in a low voice. " Surely you weren't going to try to stab her?"
Gloria looked up from the slaughtered potato, her eyes glistening with tears. "It's her fault that Rita might be dead. And—she talks about my mother like she knows her. She doesn't know my mother. She doesn't know what my mother went through to keep a roof over our heads."
Izzy put a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, but you can't just—."
Gloria pulled her arm away, her eyes blazing. "What are you sorry for? Sorry my mother was a whore? I know what you're thinking, that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, right? I'll bet you're feeling better about yourself now, aren't you. You're thinking, at least I have mother with moral standards—"
"That's not it at all!" Izzy sat back, alarmed. The other girls at the sink paused, water running as they stared curiously at the two of them.
"You're the one who should be sorry." Gloria was back to stabbing at the potato, her face a blotched with red. "Donny rejected you when you told him you were pregnant, right? He's not in the army, and he's not marrying you when he gets home. You made it all up."
Izzy threw down her knife and stood up, her hands in fists. A collective gasp came from the girls at the sink. "So what if I did, Gloria!" she blubbered, tears streaming down her face. " Why are you so mean and nasty! Can't you see I'm just trying to help you?"
Gloria stood up, her eyes blazing. "You don't have to help me. I don't need anyone's help."
The two stood staring at eachother, chest to chest. Finally, Gloria brushed her blonde curls back defiantly and sat back down.
Her head spinning with hurt and frustration, Izzy sat down. The room was suddenly flooded with a tense aura. Someone shut to water off, and the other girls in the room stood solemnly, drying the dishes with towels, giving them cautious looks. No one dared to utter a word.
After a while, one of the girls who'd been working at the sink stepped towards them. She was one of the girls Izzy had seen with a huge belly. Her face was swollen and laden with acne. She stood, hands resting on her stomach. "Is Rita the girl who came on the stretcher last night?" she asked.
"Yes." Izzy said, her attention immediately on the girl in front of her.
The girl gulped, and stared at her hands. "My name's Penelope," she reached out a swollen hand and Izzy grasped it lightly. Her hand was so puffy, it reminded her of when her Aunt had an allergic reaction to walnuts.
"I was in the laboring room last night. I was having some pains and I thought the baby was coming, so I asked Sister Mary Helen to go to the infirmary. I stayed most of the night. Only the nurses were there, the doctor was away. They said it was normal pains as far along as I am, and I wasn't ready yet."
Izzy and Gloria leaned forward, waiting for her to continue.
"She came down on the stretcher, and they called the doctor in. Later, another doctor came—."
"What about Rita? Is she alright?" Izzy interrupted, feeling as if the rising dread inside of her would overflow.
"She's still there. At least she was when I left this morning. She had the baby. But—" she ran her hand across her belly. "It was dead."
Happy New Year everyone! Hopefully 2017 is a great year for all of you! Next chapter we'll find out what's going on with Rita and we'll see more of Wes. Hope you're enjoying this story so far, and thanks for following, reading, voting, and commenting! It means a lot to me. I think all writers go through times where they are unsure of themselves, and a lot of times a reader's comment has helped me get through it.