Unwed 💍

Chapter Twenty-Three: Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams

It was laundry day. The girls marched out of the building with garments and sheets piled high in their arms. They scrubbed them in large metal tubs full of soapy water and hung them on the line. It was beautiful day to be outside, making it possible for Izzy to dream she was somewhere far away from the looming stone prison behind them.

The warm breeze blew the line of gray dresses up and down, like ghosts frolicking in the courtyard. She could hear the waves lapping on the shore beyond the woods. The sound conjured up Wes' voice, singing as he walked down the beach towards her, his lovely dark eyes full of mystery when the two of them had come face to face. A thrill shot through her stomach, but a cramping pain quickly replaced it.

"I wish we could go to the beach again," Dottie said longingly beside her. The poor little girl's face was wide and swollen. She could no longer wear her shoes, so her chubby feet were stuffed in slippers instead.

Izzy sighed as she rung out her dress, the water pattering on the dry, hard ground. She stepped back so the mud wouldn't spray on her shoes. "It was lovely, wasn't it?"

"More than lovely," said Dottie, her blue eyes focused on the woods. "It was the best day of my entire life." She waddled towards the swinging clothesline and stood on her tiptoes to fasten her dress to it.

The wind picked up and the dresses spun and twirled on the line, looking frantic, like they wanted to escape. Izzy caught her breath as she watched the little girl from behind, tears burning the backs of her eyes. How horrible life must be for Dottie's best memory to be of this awful place. Life is cruel, especially to girls, she thought, a sizzling anger spreading its way through her chest.

She'd been so sheltered and naive, living in her cheery bubble with her perfect neighbors and their perfect lives. Things like what happened to Dottie had never crossed the farthest reaches of her imagination. The most she'd had to worry about was if her father would embarrass her friends with a lame joke or how frizzy and uncontrollable the summer humidity made her hair.

She looked down, her hands were burning. She realized she'd twisted the dress into a tight knot. She let out her breath, shaking it loose and hung it on the line next to Dottie's.

"Maybe we'll get a chance to visit the beach again," she whispered to Dottie, whose eyes brightened at the thought.

"Hello?" A woman's cheery voice called from behind them.

She swung around to see a young woman and man, their arms linked, walking towards them.

"Hello, there," the woman said. She looked fashionable in her pink polka dotted summer dress and bobbed yellow hair, her thin stomach cinched with a bright yellow belt. Her smile faltered as she eyed the girls who all had come to a halt to stare at the couple. Her hand came to her mouth as her gaze fell on the girls' engorged bellies. "Oh! I—I believe we're in the wrong place."

She turned to the man who held her arm, a slick fedora tilted on his head. "Jim, dear," she pleaded. "We must find Sister Mary Helen. She said we could visit the baby in the nursery."

The man tipped his head at her, his eyes avoiding the girls in front of them. "Yes, dear, we should go back around to the front and try the door again. I'm sure someone is here, to—uh—supervise these..." His voice trailed off as his eyes flickered over them.

"You're looking for the nursery?" said Francine, stepping past Izzy. "I can show you where it is."

The young woman took a step backwards. "Jim, let's go."

With a ruckus, Sister Mary Thomas burst out of the back door, her face splattered with red. She bustled over to the couple, her large bosom heaving as she stomped over the tall weeds to hover over them.