Lucky(58)

The young woman was silent, her eyes haunted and wide, so Sister Margaret Jean ordered for both of them: pancakes, eggs, potatoes, fruit, coffee, orange juice. The young woman was obviously famished. Sister Margaret Jean watched her eat, then finally asked her name.

“Valerie Mann.”

Sister Margaret Jean noticed that the front of the girl’s shirt was wet, and she took off her cardigan and gave it to her to cover the leaking milk. She wanted to ask her who she was, where she came from, and why she had left her child on the steps of the parish—but asking her this would give Sister Margaret Jean away; the girl would know she had seen the baby and allowed her to be carried off by some stranger. She wanted redemption—but she did not want to get caught. So she did something she was good at: she made up a story.

“I…” Sister Margaret Jean paused, then began again. “I am known for my holy visions. And I had one about your baby. I saw her in a long and vivid dream. She is a beautiful baby, with hair like yours, and a determined, hearty cry.”

Valerie put down her fork. “You saw her,” she said, her green eyes now laser intense.

“In my mind,” corrected Sister Margaret Jean. “In a dream.”

“So you believe me, that I brought my baby to your parish?”

“I do. I know she was there.”

“So, what else? Do you know where she is now?”

“She is safe,” Sister Margaret Jean said. “She is loved.” She closed her eyes, as if seeing the child. The only way to get people to believe the things you said was to really believe in them yourself. “She is with a family. They found her on the steps, and because they had prayed for a baby they thought she was a miracle. So they took her home. You don’t need to worry about her. She is safe, and she is taken care of. I know this for a fact.”

Valerie sat still, her fork now abandoned. “So someone just took her?”

“A family. She is safe.”

“Do they live in a nice home? My parents threw me out when they found out I was pregnant. My boyfriend moved to Texas.”

“She is healthy, well, and loved, I promise.”

“Could we call the police? Could we try to find them?”

“Is that what you want? To find her?” Sister Margaret Jean watched the girl, watched her look away, afraid.

“Abandoning a child is a crime. If I try to find her, I’ll have to admit what I did.” One of the young woman’s tears plopped down onto the Formica table.

Sister Margaret Jean despised herself. But she was too deep into this now.

“Where do you live, girl?”

Valerie looked up. “I’m living in a shelter,” she said, then sighed. “I wanted so much more for myself, you know? I was determined to keep my baby, to do right by her—but then, after she was born, and I was alone, with no one, no money, no nothing at all, I just—snapped. Saw my life and what it was going to look like. Saw all the other women with children living in the shelter and how bleak it was for them. Suddenly I decided my daughter—I called her Julia—should have a chance at something better.” She put her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook for a while. Her crying was silent but intense, like an inward scream. It didn’t draw attention. “I got so scared. I made a mistake. I thought maybe—I had this idea that I could leave her with someone who would find her a good life, and I could still finish high school and go to college and be someone—that we could both be someone, even if we had to do that separately. I decided that if she stayed with me we would both be no one. That maybe we would even starve. I decided I was making a sacrifice and that it was for her own good. I believed it—but how could I? I woke up this morning and I realized I was never going to be anyone without her. So I came back—and she’s gone.”

Sister Margaret Jean said, “I’m going to help you.” She was thinking fast now, talking fast, too, so she couldn’t change her mind. Thinking of the money she had in a bank account she had never told anyone about, the money she should have given to the church but had not. This was even better. “Find an apartment, come back to the parish, bring me to see it, and I’ll pay the rent. Finish high school. We’ll meet weekly until you do and figure out the plan after that.”

Valerie’s green eyes were wide. “But why? Why are you helping me?”

“My visions are always a call for me to do something. I’m going to support you. Ensure that in giving up your child you were not sacrificing your own life. That you are indeed going to be someone.”

For a moment, Valerie narrowed those brilliant green eyes. Sister Margaret Jean thought she might begin to question her motives, but she didn’t. She just nodded and went back to her breakfast.

“What would you most like to be?” Sister Margaret Jean finally asked Valerie.

“I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer,” Valerie answered, her eyes still on her plate. “Maybe even a judge, or a district attorney, or, I don’t know. Something big.”

“Don’t let go of that dream,” Sister Margaret Jean said. “See about the apartment. We’ll meet back here on the first of every month. Do we have a deal?”

Valerie nodded. “Yes,” she said.

And so it began.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN