The Seventh Mother

by Sherri Wood Emmons

  “Yes,” she said. “Daddy says I’m the world’s best navigator.”

  I glanced over at her and put my hand on her knee. She was staring straight ahead. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  “We’ll be okay,” I said. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe there’s an explanation for everything.”

  She said nothing.

  “Okay, so where am I going?”

  She looked down at the map.

  “We go north on U.S. 68,” she said.

  I drove fast, trying hard to just concentrate on the road. My mind was like a twister roaring in all directions.

  Brannon, my Brannon . . . how could I have been so wrong about him? How could I have been so wrong about everything? I’d never asked him about the other women in his life. And I had believed what he’d told me about Jackie. And about Hailey. My God, had he killed Jenny’s mother?

  “Emma, you’re going too fast.” Jenny gripped the armrest, her knuckles white.

  “Sorry,” I said, slowing to the speed limit.

  “It shouldn’t take us very long to get there,” she said, staring at the map.

  “Shirley said it’s about half an hour.”

  “Do you think that’s far enough away? Maybe we should go farther.”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t sure I could drive even thirty minutes.

  “Your dad has never even heard of this place,” I said. “He won’t know we’re there.”

  “What if he talks to Mrs. Rigby?”

  I shook my head again.

  “He doesn’t know Shirley and I are friends. She’s the only person who knows where we’re going. If he asks Resa or Angel, they can honestly say they don’t know where we are.”

  The road was narrow and twisted through the hills. It would have been a beautiful drive on any other day. Just now, it was like a nightmare.

  After what felt like days, I slowed the car to pull into the grounds of the convent.

  “Wow,” Jenny said softly. “It looks like an old castle.”

  “Shirley said it used to be a school where the nuns learned how to be nuns. Now it’s mostly old women.”

  I parked the car in the small lot beside the building and we got out.

  “Where do we go?” Jenny asked.

  “Um . . . well, there’s a door. Let’s see if it’s unlocked.”

  The heavy door creaked open and we climbed steep wooden stairs to a landing. We stepped into a large, comfortable-looking kitchen. It was empty, so we walked through another door that opened onto a long, wide hallway. Wooden floors gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the window at the end of the hall. Several doors lined the hallway, all of them open.

  “Hello?” I called. “Is anyone here?”

  We heard footsteps behind us, and I swung about and stepped in front of Jenny, my arms tense, my hands in fists.

  A tiny woman stood in the kitchen doorway. She wasn’t even as tall as Jenny, and probably didn’t weigh more than ninety pounds.

  “Are you Emma?” she asked.

  “Yes.” I felt my arms relax.

  “I’m Sister Frances,” she said, smiling. “And you must be Jenny?”

  I turned and Jenny was nodding cautiously, still standing behind me as though I could shield her from whatever came our way.

  Sister Frances walked forward and extended her hand. I shook it.

  “Welcome to Loretto,” she said. “You’ll be safe here. I’ve put you in a room on the third floor. There’s a group staying there on retreat, so you’ll need to be quiet when you’re up there.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jenny whispered.

  “You don’t need to call me ma’am,” the nun said, laughing. “I’m just Frances.”

  She turned and walked toward the stairway.

  “This floor is where the sisters live,” she said. “This is our kitchen.”

  She waved her hand around the room.

  “There’s a kitchen upstairs, too. Come on, I’ll show you where your room is.”

  We followed her up another long flight of steep steps. I was nearly winded by the time we reached the top, but the little nun seemed unaffected.

  “This is the kitchen, and there are the bathrooms,” she said, pointing. “There’s coffee if you want to make some.”

  We followed her down another long hallway until she stopped in front of an open door.

  “This is your room.”

  I stared at the room. It was beautiful, with high ceilings painted white and huge windows along one wall, framed in white shutters. Four twin beds lined the inside wall, each covered with a quilt. A padded rocking chair sat facing one of the windows.

  “Wow,” Jenny said. “It’s so big.”

  “It’s beautiful, Sister Frances,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome,” she said. “There’s an elevator back here, in case you want to use it to bring your things up. It’s not very big and it’s not very fast, but it works.”

  I nodded, staring at where she pointed, not seeing anything except the pictures on the driver’s licenses in Jenny’s backpack.

  “They are serving dinner in an hour, if you’re hungry. And breakfast is at seven,” Sister Frances said. “They’ll ring a bell. Come downstairs to the second floor when it rings, and I’ll take you to the dining room. It’s kind of hard to find if you don’t know where you’re going.”

  “Thank you,” I said again.

  “Well, I’ll let you get settled in. If you need anything, you’ll find one of us on the second floor.”

  She turned and walked briskly down the hall toward the stairs. Jenny and I both just stood, watching her.

  “She’s a nun?” Jenny whispered when Sister Frances had gone. “She doesn’t look like a nun. I thought they wore black robes and stuff.”

  “They used to,” I said. “I guess they don’t have to anymore.”

  We went back to our room and Jenny flopped down on one of the beds.

  “It’s really pretty,” she said, staring around the room.

  “We should get our stuff.”

  We walked down the stairs and outside to the car to collect our things. Then we hauled all of our stuff back up those long, steep stairs.

  “Man,” I said when we finally reached the top. “We’d be in great shape if we had to climb these every day.”

  Jenny said nothing. I looked back at her, but she didn’t meet my eyes. She just stared at the floor as she trudged along behind me. When we got back to our room, I pulled the door closed and wrapped my arms around her.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I said, kissing her head.

  “How?” She pulled back and looked at me. “How can it ever be okay again?”

  She threw herself onto a bed and began crying then, great, gulping sobs. I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her back.

  “Shhh,” I whispered. “You’re okay, you’re all right.”

  She cried for a long time while I sat there, rubbing her back and wondering what we would do next.

  I glanced at a clock on the bedside table. It was past five. Brannon would be home in an hour. He’d be so sad to find us gone. Or maybe he’d just be angry. I shuddered at the thought of his anger. I’d always been stunned by how quickly he got mad, and how mad he got. But I never really thought he would hurt me or anyone else.

  My phone rang in my purse, startling both of us. I looked down to see who was calling—Resa. I let the phone ring until it stopped, staring at it in my hand. After a minute, it chirped to tell me I had a voice message.

  “Hey, honey. It’s Resa, just calling to see how you’re doing. You feeling okay? Do you want to have lunch tomorrow, someplace that’s not Happy Days? We could get Chinese and then go to the thrift stores. Call me. ’Bye.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I would miss Resa. She was always so much fun to be with. Would I ever see her again, her and Harlan and the diner?

  “You should turn your phone off.” Jenny had rolled onto her back and was rubbing her eyes. �
�Turn it off in case Daddy calls.”

  “Smart girl,” I said, turning off the phone.

  Brannon would be frantic when he couldn’t reach me. What would he have for dinner? Leftover chicken and potatoes? God, was it just last night that I’d made a special dinner for the two of us? Just this afternoon that I’d been so happy, buying baby clothes and making all kinds of plans? It felt like years ago, like a whole lifetime ago. It was hard to imagine it was still the same day, that Brannon didn’t even know yet that we were gone.

  “You told Mrs. Rigby you’d call her,” Jenny said.

  I nodded.

  “You probably shouldn’t use your phone, though.”

  I nodded again.

  “I’ll go downstairs and see if I can find a phone.”

  I rose and stretched, my hands cupping my lower back.

  “Can I come with you?” Jenny stood, too. “I don’t want to stay up here alone.”

  “Sure.” I held out my hand to her, and she took it. “It’s pretty quiet up here, isn’t it?”

  We walked downstairs to the second floor and stood in the hallway. The entire floor looked empty. Then we heard voices and laughter at the other end of the hall.

  “Come on,” I said, pulling Jenny by the hand.

  We walked into the kitchen to find several women in chairs around the table, a pot of soup on the table before them. It smelled good.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “We were wondering if there’s a phone we could use?”

  “You can use mine.” Sister Frances rose and handed me her cell phone.

  “Thank you.”

  We walked back out into the hallway and I dialed Shirley’s number. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hi, Shirley, it’s Emma.”

  “Thank goodness,” she said. “Did you-all get there okay?”

  “Yes, we’re here and just settling in. Jenny can read a map like a pro.”

  “Can I do anything?” she asked.

  “You’ve done enough,” I said. “Seriously, thank you, Shirley. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

  “Well, you just stay there and be safe. I’ll come up tomorrow or the next day. Lucy can stay with Jasper. Is there anything you need? Anything I can bring?”

  “I think we’re good. But I’ll be glad to see you.”

  “Okay, well, you take care and call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Shirley. I’ll see you soon.”

  “She’s coming here?” Jenny asked when I hung up.

  I nodded.

  “But what if Daddy follows her?”

  I tried to smile. “He won’t, honey. He doesn’t even know Shirley and I are friends.”

  “Does Jasper know we’re here?” Her eyes widened. “Because he might tell someone if he does.”

  “I don’t think Jasper would tell anyone,” I said. “He knows what it’s like to be afraid. Besides, I’m sure he doesn’t know. Shirley wouldn’t tell him.”

  We walked back into the kitchen and I handed the phone back to Sister Frances.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled at me. “Are you-all hungry? We’ve got some good soup tonight, ham and bean. And Genevieve made bread.”

  She pointed to a short, round woman with white hair and dark eyes, who nodded and smiled.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked Jenny.

  “Kind of.” She was eyeing the soup.

  “Well, sit down then.” Sister Frances pulled another chair up to the table and Jenny sat. I dragged another chair over and sat beside her.

  She ladled soup into bowls and set them before us. Another woman sliced bread and handed a piece to Jenny.

  “There’s butter,” she said, pointing. “Or strawberry jam, if you want it.”

  “Thank you,” Jenny said softly.

  I smiled at the women around the table. “Thank you all so much.”

  Then I braced myself for a barrage of questions. Thankfully, no one asked us anything. They simply smiled at us, and then resumed the conversation they’d been having before we arrived.

  “Anyway, I told Mary Margaret it was time to get the oil changed, and she said she would take care of it.”

  The nun across from me shook her head and frowned.

  “But of course, she didn’t. And now it’s going to cost a fortune to get it fixed.”

  “Well, she’s got a lot on her plate,” another woman said, her voice soothing. “I’m sure she meant to get it done.”

  The first woman sighed heavily.

  “She always means to get things done,” she said. “But she never does.”

  I took a bite of bread and a spoonful of soup. It was delicious. I was surprised at how hungry I was.

  Beside me Jenny ate in silence, her eyes fixed firmly on the bowl in front of her.

  The nuns talked away about people and places we didn’t know, and I was grateful for their presence and for the way they just accepted us at the table, no questions asked.

  “Excuse me, Sister Frances?”

  A woman stood in the doorway. She wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, and had short, spiky blond hair. She didn’t look much older than me.

  “Yes, dear?” Sister Frances smiled at her.

  “I just saw Sister Agnes walking down the driveway toward the road. I thought someone should know?”

  “Oh, dear.” Sister Frances rose quickly. Two other women stood, too. They all ran toward the stairs.

  “Thank you, Lorelei,” the nun sitting next to me said.

  “I was going to go after her myself, but she doesn’t really know me,” the blond woman said.

  “That’s all right,” the nun said. “Frances and Anne will bring her back.”

  Jenny stared at them, obviously confused.

  “Sister Agnes gets confused,” the nun named Genevieve explained, smiling at Jenny. “Sometimes she wanders, and then she can’t remember how to get back home.”

  “Hi,” the blond woman said, extending her hand to me. “I’m Lorelei.”

  I shook her hand. “I’m Emma, and this is Jenny.”

  “Is this your first time here?”

  I nodded.

  “Are you staying on the third floor?”

  I nodded again.

  “Well, if you need help finding the dining room, just let me know. It’s like a rat’s maze trying to find it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you want a glass of wine later, come on down to the kitchen. We’ve got plenty to spare.”

  “Oh, no, thank you,” I mumbled. “I can’t drink alcohol. I’m pregnant.”

  “Well, come and have tea then,” she said, grinning at me.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Okay, see you later.”

  She turned and sprinted toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  “Lorelei is here on retreat, too,” the nun next to me said. “She’s a very talented musician. You should have her sing for you. She has a marvelous voice.”

  The sisters began talking among themselves again. Jenny and I finished our soup and bread, and rose.

  “Thank you all so much,” I said. “It was delicious.”

  “You’re very welcome,” one of them said. They all smiled at us.

  “Well, good night.”

  We walked back down the hallway and up the stairs to our room. It was just starting to get dark outside.

  Jenny sat down on a bed and stared at the floor. She said nothing for a long time, then rose and pulled her laptop from her backpack. She turned it on and waited, finally looking up in frustration.

  “We don’t have Internet,” she said.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You can go one night without the Internet.”

  She sighed. “I was going to show you the article about Briana. And maybe Google Ami and see if there’s anything about her.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “We’ll find someplace with Internet access tomorrow. It can wait u
ntil then.”

  Jenny turned the computer off and shoved it back into her backpack.

  “Wait,” she said. “You didn’t see this yet.”

  She pulled out a manila folder and held it out to me.

  I took a deep breath before I opened the folder. I didn’t think I could take much more.

  I scanned the papers inside.

  “Your dad had a sister?” I looked up at Jenny. “Did you know that?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, apparently he loved her, because he named you after her.”

  She shrugged.

  I put the papers back into the folder and began pacing the room.

  “Okay, let’s see. We know he had a sister, and we know her name. Maybe we should try to find her. Maybe she can tell us something about his childhood, something that might explain . . .” I paused and swallowed hard.

  “How would we find her?”

  “We’ve got the address for the adoption service. We could drive up to Indianapolis and just go there and ask questions.”

  “Emma?” Jenny was watching me, her eyes wide. “We have another address.”

  She pulled out the letter from Hailey’s mother.

  “Do you think she still lives in Indianapolis?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “So we’re going to Indianapolis?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Are we going tomorrow?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I think the first thing we need to do is find someplace with Internet access and do some research. Besides”—I dropped onto a bed—“I’m exhausted. I think I need a day to just regroup.”

  “There’s a lake out front.” Jenny stood staring out the window at the gathering dusk. “We could take a walk in the morning.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Emma?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, Jenny, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “But if I hadn’t gone up in the attic, then we wouldn’t know about . . . everything. And we could still be at home and a family.”

  She dropped beside me on the little bed and I scooted to one side to make room for her.

  “I know it’s hard,” I said, putting my arm around her. “But it’s better to know.”

  “I guess so.”

  We lay there a long time. At last, Jenny fell into a fitful sleep, and I felt my eyes beginning to droop. So I rose carefully, covered her with a blanket, and climbed into another bed.