Rory's Promise

by Michaela MacColl

  Sister Anna folded her bonnet neatly over once, then twice, staring down at her hands. “We'll find something for you to do here. You'll find it easier to say goodbye to Violet then.” She put her hands flat on the table and pushed herself up. “It's late and we've talked about this incident enough.”

  “Sister, may I take a bath?” Rory scratched her head. “I'm afraid of what I might have picked up in jail.”

  Clearing her throat, Sister Anna agreed. “Exactly what I was going to suggest.”

  Rory gathered her courage. “Sister, what about Violet?”

  “Come to my office after breakfast. We'll talk then,” Sister Anna insisted. “Now go get clean.”

  The bathhouse was in another building but there was a long underground passage so the children and nuns didn't need to brace themselves against the outdoor weather in the colder months. Rory walked down the long, familiar tunnel, lit by electric light bulbs installed in the old iron gaslight fixtures. After visiting her old home, she couldn't believe how much she took for granted here at the Foundling. In Hell's Kitchen she'd never even seen a bathtub. Water had to be carried up the stairs from the one pump and then heated on the small stove and poured in a basin. But here she could just turn on the oversized metal bath knobs and hot steaming water cascaded into the porcelain tub with its clawed feet.

  She took twice as long in the bath as she usually did, scrubbing hard to make sure she left the filth and lice of the jail behind. She wondered about the girl Brigid and if she had ever taken a long hot bath like this. There were definite advantages to living at the Foundling. What else would she miss if she ever had to leave? Central heating. The plentiful food. The library. Even her little chats with Sister Anna.

  She walked back through the tunnel, the concrete floor cold to her damp feet, and the electric bulbs flickering like lightning bugs. Sometimes, Rory thought, her place at the Foundling felt like one of these new bulbs in an old gas fitting. It shouldn't work, but somehow it did. A light bulb burst and died in a shower of sparks, leaving Rory to walk the last ten yards in near darkness. So much for staying at the Foundling. Maybe it was a sign. If Violet had to leave the Foundling, then Rory had to go too.

  Clean and dry, she crept into the dormitory. Rory made a beeline past the other seventeen beds straight to Violet's. Her sister's hair, as red as Rory's, was splayed across the white pillow. She lay on her back, arms extended, snuffling as she slept. The marks of dried tears and snot streaked her face. Rory put her head in her hands and rubbed her scalp so hard it hurt. Her sister had cried herself to sleep and it was all Rory's fault. She pulled the blanket up to Violet's neck and for a moment rested her hand against her sister's forehead. She let Vi's steady breathing calm her. After a time, Rory felt the knots in her neck and shoulders dissolve. “Violet,” she whispered as she kissed her precious sister. “I'll never leave you again.”

  CHAPTER Eleven

  THE NEXT MORNING RORY KNOCKED GINGERLY AT SISTER Anna's office door. The nun was sitting behind her desk examining a file. She closed it when she beckoned Rory to come in. Before Rory could get a word in, Sister Anna began speaking. “Our decision about Violet is final. I'm very sorry, Rory, but she leaves next week on the train out west.”

  Rory took a deep breath and spoke rapidly. “Sister, they threatened to put me on an orphan train at the jail. The matron and the police officer thought it was just the thing for a delinquent girl like me.”

  Sister Anna's mouth tightened. “That Officer O'Rourke! You are not going on a Children's Aid Society orphan train, and neither is Violet.”

  “But she's taking a train—”

  “The orphan trains you heard about are despicable. The Children's Aid Society doesn't select good Catholic homes for the children before they get on the train.” Almost as if she was thinking aloud, Sister Anna went on, “Sometimes I wonder if that is their true purpose—to remove young Irish children from the streets and take them far away from the Church.”

  “But what happens to the children?” Rory asked.

  “The children can be claimed by almost anyone. The Society's recordkeeping is sloppy and sometimes they lose track of the children altogether. The children just vanish.”

  “Will that happen to Brigid?” Rory asked.

  “Was that your … cellmate?” Sister Anna asked.

  Rory nodded.

  “No doubt some find good homes, but not all. Not nearly all.” Sister Anna's eyes were bleak.

  “How are your trains any different?” Rory asked.

  “The agent and I write to parishes all over the country to find good Catholic homes. No one gets a child without a reference from the parish priest. I match the child to the family. We inspect the homes before they can keep the children.”

  Rory considered Sister Anna's words. It sounded good, but who knew what happened in the world outside the Foundling.

  “We don't ever forget them either,” Sister Anna continued. “We write to the families to see how the child is. And most important, the Foundling has the legal right to take the child back if the home is unsuitable in any way.” A shadow crossed her face. Rory wondered if she was remembering a child in trouble. “Sometimes we make mistakes, but we try to correct them. Violet will be safe and happy. I guarantee it.”

  Rory was going to have to think quickly to stay one step ahead of Sister Anna. “I know, Sister,” Rory said, staring at her feet. “If you've found the perfect family, you can't afford to lose this chance for Vi.” Behind her back, she crossed her fingers.

  “Really?” Sister Anna sounded surprised. She examined Rory's face, her eyebrows raised. Rory steeled herself to meet the nun's searching look without flinching.

  “Of course, Sister. But I wonder … Do you think I could write to her? She's the only family I have.” Without much effort, Rory let her voice tremble. “Even if we aren't together, I can't lose her completely.”

  “Perhaps,” Sister Anna said slowly. “It's irregular, but not unheard of.”

  “Thank you.” Her initial purpose was achieved. Now Sister Anna would tell her where Vi was going. Time to distract her further. Rory asked, “Sister, what about me?”

  “You've been very helpful with the babies,” Sister Anna began.

  Rory grimaced. She had quite enough of changing diapers and braiding hair. “But you don't really need me for that.”

  “Your schoolwork is good. Especially your writing and reading. You could study to become a nun,” Sister Anna spoke persuasively.

  “Become a nun?” Rory took a step back. “I want a life. No offense intended.”

  “None taken, Rory.” Sister Anna's lips twitched. “Well, we could apprentice you. Perhaps as a typewriter, although your training class with Sister Mary Alice did not go well.”

  “Who knew all those keys could get so tangled?” Rory said.

  “You could learn a skill like glove making or sewing.”

  Rory shook her head. “Have you seen my stitches? Sister Barbara says they will be the death of her. And when I tried to make gloves, I was all thumbs.” She held up her hands in a helpless gesture.

  Sister Anna laughed. “Perhaps not sewing. What about studying to be a teacher? Or a governess?”

  Rory shook her head. She wanted a future that didn't re-quire taking care of small children. Except for Violet, of course.

  “Do you have any suggestions?” Sister Anna asked.

  After a moment's hesitation, Rory, staring at the floor, said, “I like to tell people what to do. Maybe I should be a boss of something.”

  Sister Anna didn't say anything. Rory peeked and saw that Sister Anna had pressed her hand against her mouth and was quivering with pent-up laughter.

  “Sister! Are you laughing at me?”

  “No, of course not.” But Sister Anna's voice was strangled. “A boss sounds excellent. Do you have any ideas of what kind of boss?”

  “Not yet,” Rory said, glaring at Sister Anna suspiciously.

  “Before you can be a boss,
you might have to learn to take orders,” Sister Anna said helpfully.

  “Oh.” Rory thought for a bit. “If being a boss doesn't work out, maybe I should write stories.”

  “That's no way for a young lady to make a living,” Sister Anna said.

  “I could write for a magazine.” Rory grew more excited. “How hard could it be to write a Wild West Weekly story? All I need are cowboys, Injuns, six-shooters, and mustangs.”

  Sister Anna's face appeared so tightly pinched her ears seemed to move together. “I see I shall have to keep a closer eye on your reading habits.” She pressed her palms together. “I'll have a good think about your future and we'll talk later. But for now, we have to arrange the sewing.”

  “Sister, perhaps you misunderstood about my stitches? All thumbs!”

  “Dear, we have fifty-seven children to take west. They'll each need a new outfit. And we sew colored labels into their collars to make sure that each child goes to the location I've chosen for him or her.”

  “Can Violet's be violet-colored?” Rory asked, making her voice wistful, as though Violet was already gone. “She would like that.”

  Sister Anna reached across the desk and patted Rory's hand. “I think that can be arranged. And don't worry, Rory. Violet will be happy.”

  “I know.” Rory's voice sounded convincing. Violet would be happy because Rory was going to be with her. Even if she had to go as far west as the Pacific Ocean to make that happen.

  CHAPTER Twelve

  “RORY, YOU’RE TYING MY BOW TOO TIGHT. MY HAIR HURTS. ” Violet scowled at her sister.

  “Hush, don't be foolish. Your hair can't hurt. Your scalp can hurt like the dickens, but not your hair,” Rory said. She finished fixing Violet's hair and tugged the little girl's dress to make the hem even. “There you are. Pretty as a picture. Your new family is going to love you.”

  Violet shot Rory a startled glance. “But I thought …”

  “Shhh!” Rory warned, jerking her head to indicate Sister Anna, who was moving about the dormitory trying to catch little Jimmy Harris. He scuttled under the first of the cribs lined up against the wall. Wise to his five-year-old ways, Sister Anna waited at the last crib and when he emerged, she scooped him up with one arm. With her other hand she checked his collar. “Number fifty-four,” she said and then let him go. Her assistant, Sister Eileen, a sixteen-year-old novice who had just come to the Foundling, consulted a list clipped to a board. Sister Eileen, with her sweet face, sparkling black eyes, and dimples, was going on the train to help Sister Anna manage all the paperwork with so many adoptions.

  “Fifty-four. Jimmy Harris. He is going to Clifton, Arizona, to the Flores family. His ribbon should be purple.”

  “Violet, Sister Eileen,” Sister Anna corrected with a quick glance over at Rory and Violet.

  Every child's assigned number had been painstakingly sewn into his or her clothes. The ones that Rory had done might have included a few specks of blood for her pains. The number was matched to the adoptive family Sister Anna had chosen for him or her. The color ribbon said which city the children were going to. Rory marveled at Sister Anna's power to organize fifty-seven adoptions all at once. Rory had been trying to catch a look at the list all week. She still didn't know anything about Violet's family. She only knew that Violet's number was twenty-two and her ribbon was also violet. But now Rory knew that a violet ribbon meant Clifton, Arizona.

  “Vi,” she whispered. “You're going to Arizona.” She stumbled on the unfamiliar word.

  “What's Arizona?” Violet asked.

  “It's a nice place,” Rory lied. In fact, she knew nothing at all about Arizona except that it was a territory. What was Sister Anna thinking—sending Vi into a place that wasn't even grown up enough to be a state?

  Rory glanced outside the window. The carriages were lined up, waiting to take the children to the train station. The youngest children were running around the dormitory, overexcited by all the commotion. The Sisters bustled in and out, picking up the small case for each of the children chosen to go west. Each child had a brand-new dress or set of boys’ dress clothes. The rest of their clothes had been mended and made as presentable as possible. Violet's small case was a little fuller than the others because Rory had stashed an extra bundle of clothes and treasures inside, including her copy of Wild West Weekly. Where they were going, she might find it useful.

  Violet stared into Rory's blue eyes, identical to her own. “Rory, tell me again that we'll be all right.”

  “Yes, as long as you do what I say.” She bent in and whispered into Violet's ear, “Remember what I told you. You are going to get in the taxi without me. I'm going to say goodbye and you have to look sad.”

  “But I will see you again?” Violet had asked this question a dozen times and her anxiousness broke Rory's heart.

  “Yes. I'll find you,” Rory assured her. “But you have to be convincing when you leave. Cry if you can. Sister Anna has been watching me like a hawk ever since … Never mind. She's been watching me lately.” Rory had no intention of telling Vi that a cop had hauled her off to jail. That unfortunate episode was a secret known only to Rory and Sister Anna.

  “Rory, I'm scared.” Violet grabbed Rory's hand and squeezed hard enough to leave marks. “I don't want to go on a train.” Her lovely blue eyes started to tear.

  “It's going to be a grand adventure, Vi,” Rory said enthusiastically, to ward off the crying storm. “And remember, you won't be alone. The other kids will be there and Sister Anna. Sister Eileen is coming too—stick close to her. And I'll be there as soon as I can.”

  “What if you don't come?” Vi whispered.

  “I'll come,” Rory said in a voice that should end the matter. But she didn't reckon on Vi, who could be as stubborn as Rory herself.

  “How can I be sure?”

  With an impatient sigh, Rory pulled a silver chain from around her neck. Hanging from the chain was a tarnished saint's medal. “See this?” she asked.

  “It was Mama's,” Violet said, staring at the medal swaying from Rory's hand. “And you got it because you are the oldest.” Rory had had to reinforce that lesson several times because Violet wanted the medal for herself.

  “You know I'd never risk losing this, right?” Rory said.

  “Right.”

  “I'm going to lend it to you.” She lifted up Violet's thick red hair and clasped the necklace around her neck.

  Violet stroked the medal, her lips in a round O of pleasure.

  Rory pointed at the necklace. “This is my promise that we'll be together soon.” She hugged Violet. “So you have to give it back when we both get to Arizona.”

  Vi fixed her eyes on Rory's face and nodded slowly. The medal was more convincing than Rory's reassurances.

  “Rory!” The girls sprung apart at the sound of Sister Anna's voice. She stood behind them, like a great bird of prey watching over its dinner.

  “Sister Anna!” Rory said. How much had she overheard?

  “You're needed to help the rest of the children too, not just Violet.”

  Violet hid her face in Rory's skirt.

  “Violet,” Sister Anna said in a kind voice. “Let me see your collar.”

  “She's number twenty-two,” Rory said, speaking quickly, hoping that Sister Anna wouldn't notice the necklace and begin asking questions.

  “Twenty-two,” Sister Anna repeated for Sister Eileen's sake. Sister Eileen looked up from the list. “Violet Fitzpatrick. She's going to Ramon and Elena Martinez in Clifton, Arizona.”

  Rory mouthed the name. Elena Martinez. What kind of name was that? What would she be like? Would she be kind to Violet? Would she understand that Violet was very brave except when it came to hairy spiders? Would she notice that Violet might not talk much but that was because she was thinking so hard? Would she love Violet? And most important of all, would she welcome a second red-haired daughter who was good with children and knew her letters and multiplication tables?

  “Rory!” Si
ster Anna's voice broke through her troubled thoughts. “The other children …” she prompted.

  Turning to Violet and giving her a last hug, Rory said, “I'll see you outside, Vi.” Hurrying to assist the other Sisters, Rory carefully did not look back at Sister Anna but she imagined she could feel the Sister's eyes watching her even as she supervised all the other children.

  CHAPTER Thirteen

  THE GREAT BELL RANG IN THE MAIN HALL OF THE FOUNDLING. Rory squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. It was time. She helped the nuns shepherd fifty-seven children, the youngest only three years old and the eldest just six. Outside a line of horse-drawn taxicabs waited for the children. The nuns kept the smallest children from wandering under the hooves of the horses. Older boys from the school hoisted the trunks high onto the roofs of the taxicabs. The trunks were full of the children's suitcases, as well as ample supplies of foodstuffs, medicines, and linens for the journey. Rory kept Violet close by her side. At first Violet tried to pull away but the moment she saw the hubbub, she pressed herself into Rory's skirt.

  Sister Anna seemed to be everywhere: overseeing the luggage, directing the drivers, counting the children. The other nuns who cared for the babies on a daily basis watched from the top step, like a line of stone-faced bowling pins. If they were affected by so many of their charges departing for the Wild West, Rory could not tell from their faces. Except for Sister Maureen, who dashed the tears from her eyes, only to have to do it again seconds later.

  “Sister Maureen, if you cannot control yourself, return to the dormitory.” Sister Anna's stern voice instantly dried Sister Maureen's tears. “I won't have you upsetting the children.”

  Sister Maureen inclined her head. “I'm sorry, Sister Anna; it's just that they are so small. And they are going so very far.”