The Address(65)

“I’m beginning to understand what they’re saying,” said Natalia, after they’d been at it for an hour.

“The way I see it, we’re all sane and the rest of the staff and doctors and superintendent are the lunatics.” Sara pointed at the head nurse, who was asleep at her desk. “Completely daft.”

“I like looking at it that way.” Natalia glanced over at Sara, who instinctively pulled in her stomach. “You won’t be able to hide it very soon.”

Sara put a hand over her belly in a protective motion. “What do you mean?”

“You are with child.”

The simple statement brought pricks of tears to Sara’s eyes. “Yes.” The past couple of nights, in the depths of the bitter darkness, she’d imagined another world, one where she hadn’t ventured to the States. Where she’d stayed as head housekeeper at the Langham and never faced the corrosive effect of her own shame, her downfall. But she could no longer deny the truth, even to herself.

“What are you going to do?” Natalia leaned in, her frown deepening the furrow between her eyebrows.

“I’m not sure what I can do. I’m amazed it survived Nurse Garelick’s attack. But it’s moving, growing.”

“He or she, not an it.”

“I can’t think about it that way.” Her chest seized up and she fought to breathe. “What will I do? What will they do with me once they find out?”

Natalia placed her hand on Sara’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I believe there’s a place at the Charity Hospital for unwed mothers on the island. Maybe you can go there to have the baby?”

“I heard the nurses talking about it. For ‘husbandless women and fatherless children,’ they said. Always defined by a man, as if it weren’t enough to be simply a woman or a child.”

“Who is the father?”

She shuddered, unable to say his name. “He doesn’t know about it, or that I’m here. And he’s not free.”

“You will need help, when the time comes.”

“What do they do with the babies that are born at the hospital? Do you know?”

Natalia shook her head. “I’m sure they don’t want the baby on their hands, another mouth to feed. This could be your key to getting out of here.”

“Or it could be an excuse for them to lock me up for good and take the child away. As a way of further punishment.”

A couple of the women sitting at the adjacent table glanced in their direction. Sara was certain they were foreign and didn’t understand English, but she lowered her voice. “I don’t know what to do. What should I do?”

Natalia reached up and patted her cheek, her touch a cool salve. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Do you know when the baby will be coming?”

In spite of her determination not to think ahead, she’d done the calculation over and over. “Middle of August, I believe.”

“I’ll ask around, try to find out if this has happened before. Nurse Alden is the kind one; I’ll bring it up with her.”

“Would you?” It took everything Sara had to not fall into Natalia’s arms and burst into tears.

“Yes. We’ve made it this far; let’s see if we can make your situation work to your advantage.”



A week later, during their walk, Natalia pulled Sara around the corner of the asylum, out of view of the nurses and other inmates.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

Natalia’s eyes sparkled. “No, not wrong at all. Yesterday, I found Nurse Alden sitting in one of the offices working. Alone.”

“Tell me what you learned.”

“She said that any inmate with child—and they have a few each year—is indeed sent to the Charity Hospital on the island, to the ward for unwed mothers.”

“The hospital is for the people in the workhouse, right?”

“Yes. It’s going to be rough. But less rough than here, I would guess.”

“How do we know, though? What if it’s worse? The orderlies there are used to vagrants and drunkards and the like.”

Natalia lifted her chin and laughed. “We are madwomen, don’t you remember? Do you think they are below us?”

“What are you ladies doing here?” Superintendent Dent strode over, pipe in hand. “You’re not supposed to be off on your own.”

“Sorry, Superintendent Dent.” Natalia did a combination head bow and curtsy, which seemed to mollify him slightly.

He waved a hand. “Off you go. Breathe in the fresh air; it will help clear the mind.”

“Yes, sir.”

The next week, as they were at the beginning of their shift in the mat-making factory, the head nurse called out from the doorway and motioned for Natalia and Sara to grab one of the baskets of completed mats.

“These need to go to the penitentiary. Leave them by the front gate. Don’t go inside. Here’s a note in case anyone asks what you’re doing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sara could hardly believe her good luck. They each took a basket handle and followed the road south. The walk provided a long-forgotten taste of freedom.

A fresh breeze blew in from the west as they trod down the dusty road. The prison resembled a castle, with tiny square windows and turreted roofs. A rough wooden fence extended around the front entrance, with an iron gate in the center. Together they peered in.