The Magdalen Girls Page 5

  Later, Father Mark assisted with communion. When her turn came to take the sacrament, he ignored her.

  The older priest whispered in her father’s ear as he presented the wafer. Teagan thought it odd because Father Matthew never leaned in to talk with anyone during communion.

  When the Mass ended, her father stood at the end of the pew and said, “Wait for me here.” Father Mark walked past them to stand at the church entrance. Her father and the older priest went through a side door leading to the parish house.

  Teagan wondered what Father Matthew was up to. She thought of her secret meeting with Father Mark and her heart raced.

  Her mother shook her head and tugged at the pearl buttons on her gloves. “I don’t know. Perhaps Father Matthew is getting on your father about his drinking last week.”

  The laughter and talking at the back of the church faded. The doors closed behind them. Still in the pew, Teagan looked back. Everyone, including Father Mark, was gone. The doors opened again. A caretaker stepped inside with his broom and, humming a folk tune, began sweeping the floors. He swept each aisle until he finally came to them.

  “Stay put,” the caretaker said, urging them not to get up. “It’s no bother.” He went on about his business.

  A few minutes later, her father opened the parish house door. The color had drained from his face. He looked like a man attending a wake as he walked toward the pew. Teagan couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad. She saw the red rims of his eyes when he stopped, as if he had been crying.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered in a husky voice.

  “Da, what’s wrong?” Teagan asked. Her mother echoed Teagan’s question, but her father gave no answer. He walked slowly to the back of the church and crossed himself as he passed out the doors.

  When they arrived home, her father took off his suit jacket and hung it on the hall tree. “I’m going out. You should both be in bed by the time I get home.”

  “Cormac? Please tell me what’s wrong.” Her mother took his hands and pleaded for an answer.

  He kissed her on the cheek and said, “It’s nothing. We’ll get by. You’ll see.” He shook his head, as he walked past Teagan.

  Her mother collapsed on the couch, tears coming quickly to her eyes. “I don’t know what I’ve done to displease your father. What could it be?”

  Teagan settled next to her, the lovely atmosphere of the room transformed into anxiety. The objects that she had looked upon so fondly before Father Mark’s visit—the sentimental reminders of her childhood—seemed useless and insignificant now. Dread filled her as she thought about her father’s strange behavior. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew her life was about to change. Her nerves had tightened as they sat in church waiting for her father. Now they threatened to overpower her, to bring her to her knees in distress.

  “I don’t think it’s you,” Teagan said. “It must be me.”

  Her mother, shocked, stared at her. “How could it be you? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “No . . . unless thoughts are impure.”

  Her mother took off her gloves and threw them on the couch beside her. “We all have thoughts, but . . .” She squeezed Teagan’s hands. “What happened last week in Father Matthew’s cellar? Tell me the truth.”

  “You know the truth—”

  “—What? Tell me!” Her mother gave her a pained look.

  Teagan took a breath. “Father Mark lied. He didn’t ask me to read the titles of holy books. We went to the cellar to fetch a bottle of wine. My friend Cathy was standing at the top of the stairs and she shoved me after him. We were only gone for a few minutes.” Father Mark had been right about the truth hurting people. She could tell from the sadness on her mother’s face. She wouldn’t say any more about what happened. “You know Da, and his moods. I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

  Her mother rose from the couch. “I’ve got to keep busy. I’ll make tea for us. Who knows when your father will be back?” She struggled to get the words out.

  The afternoon and evening hours seemed like days as they waited for Cormac, who didn’t come home for tea. They ate mostly in silence. Her mother picked at her food. Teagan knew something terrible was happening. Her father never missed a meal unless he was called away by business.

  They watched a couple of hours of television and then went to bed.

  She was drifting off, when she heard her mother’s muffled sobs from across the hall. She wanted to comfort her, but the door the bedroom door was closed. To drown out the painful sound, she turned on the transistor radio her father had given her as a birthday gift and listened to a Dublin station. She heard records by Cliff Richard, Elvis, and a melancholy new song by Ray Charles, “I Can’t Stop Loving You.” As she shifted in bed, she felt as if she were living on another planet. Her brain commanded her limbs to move and they did—in slow motion. Sadness weighed her down. The Ray Charles hit ran through her head as she tried to fall asleep. She thought of Father Mark, and then Cullen, and wondered if love always had to be painful. The tune seemed appropriate for the night.

  * * *

  Teagan’s door burst open at 4 a.m. She sprang upright in bed, staring at the shadowy figures in the hall.

  The blurred picture transformed into her father, steadying himself against the wall. Her mother stood behind him. The light cast stark shadows across their bodies.

  “Get dressed,” her father ordered.

  Teagan stared in disbelief. Were her ears playing tricks on her? She rubbed her eyes and then pulled the sheet down. “What?” she asked meekly.

  “You heard me. Get dressed! And be quick about it.” Her father’s voice rose angrily with each word. She smelled whiskey on his breath. “Your mother will be waiting for you.” He slammed the door, leaving her in darkness.

  She wanted to shout at her father, but she knew that tactic would backfire. The only way to get through to her father was to be kind. Obsequious. She had learned the word in school. When Sister had written its definition on the blackboard—fawning, subservient, obedient—her father came to mind.

  Why was he so angry? Father Matthew must have had something to do with it. She pulled on a white blouse, jeans, and a pair of tennis shoes. She trembled as she opened the door, her stomach churning.

  Her mother, attired in a nightgown, stumbled toward her. Teagan gasped. Her mother’s eyes were puffy, her face pallid, drained of life.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Her mother struggled to get the question out. She clutched at the door to keep from falling.

  Teagan rushed to her, but her mother turned away. “Tell you what? Ma, please tell me what’s wrong!”

  “Why did you lie? Why didn’t you tell us that Father Mark was here, that . . .” Her mother, shaking uncontrollably, burst into sobs.

  “I was afraid you’d be mad at me. I left my jumper in the cellar at the parish house. Father Mark returned it.”

  “Oh God,” her mother said and wrung her hands.

  Teagan’s admission made her mother’s sobbing worse.

  Her father appeared from the shadows and pushed his wife out of the way. He held the car keys in his hand. “We’re going for a ride.”

  Panic consumed her. Was she dreaming? She expected to wake up at any minute and find herself snug in bed. How could seeing a priest be so egregious a “sin?” Her survival instinct kicked in. She slammed the door and locked it, barely missing her father’s fingers. She shook from the adrenaline coursing through her body.

  He pounded the door and screamed at Teagan. Her mother wailed in the hall. Then, the screaming stopped and the sobs faded. The house was quiet for a moment. Teagan cowered on her bed as the clock on her nightstand ticked off the seconds.

  The door shook in its frame several times before it shattered, sending splinters of wood flying into the room. Cursing, her father fell to the floor from the force of his momentum. He grabbed Teagan by her legs and pulled her off the bed.

  “Listen to me!” His voice cracked with rage, and th
e veins on his temples swelled as if they were about to burst. “I don’t want to make this any harder on your mother than it is. You can either come quietly, or I’ll pick you up and haul you out of this house.”

  She pushed back sobs and managed to say, “Yes, Da.”

  “Don’t call me ‘Da.’ I don’t have a daughter anymore.”

  Her mind reeled. Her father’s words and actions were incomprehensible. What had happened to her father to cause this horror?

  He pulled her up from the floor and led her into the upstairs hall. As she passed her parents’ room, Teagan spotted her mother on the bed, her head buried in her hands. Her moans filled the room. Her father choked back tears as he guided Teagan down the stairs. He grabbed his suit jacket from the hall tree and put it around her shoulders.

  “Whatever you’ve been told, it’s a lie,” she said. “Nothing happened with Father Mark.”

  “Priests don’t lie,” her father said, and then swore at the ceiling. The sour smell of whiskey filled the air.

  “He does!” She pulled up short. “Where are you taking me? I’ve always done everything you wanted.”

  Her father stopped and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. “You’re the biggest disappointment of my life.”

  Stunned, she could think of nothing to say.

  He pushed her to the car, and before she knew it she was headed to an unknown destination.

  Her father, who seemed to know where he was going, didn’t speak.

  Teagan looked out the window in silence because she was afraid to ask him anything. She had heard about kidnappings and abductions from news reports, but they were always perpetrated by a criminal who wanted money, never by a parent. The roads they traveled were mostly unknown to her, although she recognized St Stephen’s Green when they passed by. Rows of houses came into view, some with lights on in the early morning.

  The sun’s pink rays had begun to streak the clouds when their car pulled up to a large gate. The sign on it read THE SISTERS OF THE HOLY REDEMPTION. Down the lane, the granite walls of the convent towered out of the half-darkness. The black roof careened at odd angles over what hinted at a larger complex of buildings. A sudden chill enveloped her as she viewed the somber sight.

  Her father rang a buzzer and an elderly man came to the gate and opened it. “Right on time, five in the morning.” the man said as he leaned toward the window. “The Mother Superior is expecting you. The Sisters don’t let any grass grow under their feet.”

  “Thank you,” her father replied.

  The man motioned the car forward. “Pull in, straight ahead. Follow the curve.”

  The low branches of a line of oaks passed over the car as they drove down the lane. The trees looked like gigantic sentinels shielding the deserted grounds. The car’s lights cut through the dawn as it climbed a small hill. A bank of terraced steps, leading to the heavy doorway, came into view. A nun, clothed entirely in black, stood like a statue at the top of the steps. She had no visible arms or legs, only a round face protruding from the habit; she was like a dark monolith in the lingering darkness.

  Her father parked the car at the bottom of the steps, but left it running. “I’m not coming inside.” He got out and opened the passenger door for his daughter. He led her around the car and up the steps to the waiting figure. “Sister Anne?” her father asked. “Mother Superior?”

  The nun nodded, but didn’t speak. Teagan studied the imposing figure, still uncertain why she had been taken to The Sisters of the Holy Redemption.

  “This is my daughter, Teagan,” her father continued. “I believe Father Matthew has told you about our situation?”

  Sister Anne’s eyebrows lifted, as if agreeing with his question.

  “The papers are in the car. My wife and I signed them.” He left for a brief moment to gather an envelope.

  The nun withdrew her hands from her habit and motioned for Teagan to follow her to the door. The last thing she wanted to do was go inside this dark building with a nun she had never met. Her father handed the papers to Sister Anne, who pressed them against her chest.

  “Da!” Teagan cried out.

  “I’ll be off now,” he said, as his daughter clung to him.

  The nun reached for her arm, but she shook her off. “Don’t do this to me, Da!”

  “Good-bye.” He wrenched Teagan from his body and ran to the car. Sister Anne grabbed her and the envelope fell to the ground. The nun forced her toward the door as her father raced away.

  Teagan collapsed in tears on the stone terrace.

  Sister Anne picked up the envelope and bent over her like a dark angel. “You’d best come inside, unless you’d like to spend the rest of your life on the grounds. I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  Teagan knew she had no choice as she watched the nun climb the steps to the door.

  It creaked as Sister Anne pulled it open. “Welcome to your new home—for as long as is necessary to expiate your sins.” Teagan crawled to her feet, studying the woman who now lorded over her. A long corridor lay in a dark, endless stretch before her.

  CHAPTER 4

  For a split second, Teagan considered running away. She followed the nun, but then froze at the door in utter desperation. What good would it do? St Stephen’s Green was the only landmark she recognized, and it was a good distance from the convent. And what of the nearby houses? Who would answer at this hour? What would they think of a disheveled girl clad in jeans and a white blouse? They would turn her over to the Guards, who would haul her back to the convent. Her parents had committed an unthinkable act, signing papers committing her to The Sisters of the Holy Redemption. One thought, a million thoughts, raced through her head in a dizzying buzz. Her legs wouldn’t budge.

  Sister Anne’s eyebrows raised—a questioning look, but also one of haughty disdain—as if this same scene had played out many times. The Mother Superior seemed the type who would be the eventual winner, Teagan thought, no matter how long it took.

  There was nowhere to go, no place to run. The truth crashed down as solidly as the granite walls that made up the convent. As she stared down the hall, a memory popped into her head. It was about an Irish war hero who had died in gaol. She’d read about him in a history book. The dark walk in front of her reminded her of his prison.

  “Come along now.” Sister Anne coaxed her forward. “I have more important tasks to attend to than listening to the morning birds with a sinner.”

  Sinner! The word shocked her, like a splash of cold water. Perhaps that was the way back to her family. A misunderstanding had gotten her to this place, not a sin. She could clear up this mistake if the Mother Superior would listen. She’d done nothing wrong and proving it would be easy. She would only have to tell Sister Anne the truth.

  The nun held the door open as Teagan trudged past it into the shadowy hall. A square panel of light fell upon the stone tiles from a room midway down. The door closed with a thud, and the corridor darkened to a thick twilight.

  The dense air was filled with odors: the rocky smell of granite, the smoky scent of burning candles, and the must of ancient wood. They wrapped around her throat like strangling hands. But other faint smells drifted through the hall. Teagan recognized the stinging bite of bleach, the clean scent of detergent. Above her, she heard stirrings—steps echoing across the floors, the rush of water through pipes.

  Sister Anne led the way in a determined march of flowing black. The nun turned left into the lit room. Teagan followed and found herself in a sparsely decorated office. The Mother Superior sat behind her large wooden desk. She motioned for Teagan to sit in one of the wing chairs placed in front of it.

  She sat and studied the nun’s face. It was unlike any she had ever met. The Mother Superior’s fine, thin nose and high cheekbones, reminded her of a Renaissance sculpture. However, the narrow band of her mouth seemed menacing, the eyes calculating, unyielding in their dominance.

  “This is all a—”

  Sister Anne cut her off with a wave of her h
and. “Do not speak unless spoken to.”

  “But I can explain.”

  The nun rose like an intimidator from her chair. “Apparently, you don’t understand instructions. What did they teach you in school? Have you no shame, no respect for your parents or your superiors?”

  It was no use talking to this woman. Teagan sighed. If that was the way the Sister Anne wanted to play it, she would go along with it for a little while.

  “I’ll give you time to ponder those questions as I review your paperwork.” The nun resumed her position behind the desk and opened the envelope Teagan’s father had given her.

  Teagan looked around the office. Aside from the brown desk and the two chairs in front of it there was little furniture. A small bookcase sat near the door. On her right, a gold-framed painting of a prostrate woman washing the feet of Jesus hung on the wall. Three windows were cut into the same granite, but no natural light came in. The shades were pulled down behind parted blue curtains. She wondered what was beyond those windows. Perhaps a way out?

  Four wooden children’s blocks sat on Sister Anne’s desk. They spelled out LOVE in carved letters of yellow, blue, red, and green. How odd! She doubted the nun had ever loved anyone a day in her life—at least it seemed that way from her strict demeanor.

  Sister Anne took her time reading the papers, turning each page with measured precision. Finally, she finished them and gazed at Teagan. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  She knew the nun was delivering an accusation, not a question to be answered. She shook her head and wondered if it would be better not to talk at all.

  The Mother Superior placed her elbows on the desk and folded her hands like a steeple. “Let me explain. You are a Magdalen, along with the others who will live beside you.”

  The nun knew she had no idea how the name applied. She could tell by the Mother Superior’s smug look.

  Sister Anne pointed at the painting of the woman washing Jesus’s feet. “Are you familiar with the meaning of the picture?” The nun continued before she could answer. “The painting depicts Mary Magdalene—a fallen woman who devoted the final days of her life to our Lord. He cast out the devils from her soul. She became His follower and witnessed His Crucifixion and Resurrection. We wish the same salvation, the same path to grace for the girls and women here, who come to us as fallen.”