Chapter 37

Chapter 37
LOUISA’S POV

I woke up that morning with my heart already bouncing like the children’s jump ropes. The past three weeks had been so calm, and I kept telling myself I was finally learning to behave. Every time I stayed out of trouble, Benedict would hold me so tight at night, almost like I was a prize he didn’t want anyone to steal. And I thought maybe that was my reward for not making trouble, his arms around me and I liked that reward. A lot.

But this morning was even better than all the others. When Benedict dropped me off at the orphanage, he kissed me. Right there, in front of everyone. It wasn’t a quick brush either, it was firm, like he wanted everyone to know that I was his wife. My cheeks burned and I felt like I could float, and even after his car drove off, I still stood there, giggling and waving like a fool. My hand was sore from all the waving, but I didn’t mind.

The kids, of course, noticed right away. They all gathered around me, giggling and poking fun, shouting things like, “Miss Louisa’s got a prince!” and “Ooooh, Miss Louisa, you’re blushing!” I tried to scold them, but I was laughing too hard, and my cheeks only got hotter.

Then Sister Jacinta walked by, looking at me with those kind eyes of hers that always seemed to know too much. 

“Louisa,” she said, folding her arms, “you seem to be in a good mood this morning. Care to share?”

Oh, I shared a lot. I couldn’t help it. The words tumbled out of me like marbles the kids use to play spilling from a jar. I told her everything about how Benedict had held me last night, so tightly that I thought maybe I couldn’t breathe, but I liked it anyway. And then I told her about the kiss this morning, how everyone saw it, and how warm it made me feel inside, almost like drinking a delicious warm soup on a cold rainy night.

I was about to explain more about the way Benedict kissed me differently when we were alone in his room, slower, deeper, and sometimes his hands would—

“Louisa!” Sister Jacinta cut me off so suddenly I almost bit my tongue. Her cheeks were pinker than mine. “That’s quite enough. I don’t need to hear about… about that.”

I blinked at her, confused, and then giggled nervously. “Oh, right. Of course, you’re a nun. You don’t do… that. Silly me. I just thought you might want tips.”

The look she gave me made me clamp my mouth shut immediately, though inside I was still giggling.

So I went on with my chores, humming the whole time and too giddy to care about how dusty the floors were or how heavy the buckets of water felt. Every time I thought of Benedict’s kiss, I had to press my hand to my cheek to make sure my face wasn’t melting off.

It was in the middle of sweeping, lost in my thoughts when I saw the same woman who had approached me last time, the one who said something about her missing daughter. 

Last time, I’d been too frightened to talk to her so much that I almost passed out when she approached me. That feeling though, wasn’t present the second time I stumbled on her and she told me about her missing child, and even after her apology, I was still wary of her.

Today was different. Maybe it was because I felt braver after Benedict’s kiss, maybe it was because my heart was still all fizzy and happy, or maybe it was just that the woman’s eyes looked sad, but I walked up to her without fear.

My broom squeaked against the ground as I abandoned it, and the kids called after me, but I ignored them.

“You’re back,” I said cheerfully, even though a part of me thought I should maybe not be so cheerful, because silence always made me uncomfortable, so I filled it. “Did you… did you find your daughter yet? I’ve been thinking about you, you know. I even dreamed about a little girl with curly hair last night. I don’t know if she was yours, though. She didn’t say her name in the dream. Do you think that could have been a clue?”

The woman just smiled at me softly, and for some reason it made my chest tighten. She shook her head. “Not yet,” she murmured. “But it’s kind of you to remember me.”

Her voice was gentle, like the lullaby mama would sing to me. I wanted to hear more, so I kept talking. I told her how Benedict kissed me this morning, because it seemed important somehow that someone else knew. I told her about the children at the orphanage, about Sister Jacinta getting all flustered when I tried to explain things she didn’t want to hear, about how sometimes I wondered if I’d ever had braids when I was a little girl because I couldn’t remember.

The woman listened, nodding, her eyes never leaving my face. And it was strange, but the longer she looked at me, the more comfortable I felt. Like I could tell her anything. 

When it was time for her to leave, there was an odd pang in my chest. She leaned forward and opened her arms. For a moment I hesitated, but then I thought, well, she doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore. 

So I let her hug me. But the instant her warmth pressed against me, everything spun.

Blurry Images crashed through my mind, like someone had opened a book too fast and all the pages flew at once. A little girl was laughing. A hand holding mine. A face that looked too much like mine, smiling through wet eyes.

My head whipped back, and the world tilted as sudden pain shot through me. My knees buckled. I heard someone shout then, maybe the woman, maybe the children; but it all blurred out.

Then everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes again, everything was white. The ceiling above me hurt my eyes, and the air smelled like cleaning soap and metal. I blinked and blinked, trying to piece it together. My heart hammered as I pushed myself up on my elbows.

I was in a hospital. Panic hit me like I had splashed with cold water as I thought of Benedict.

He was supposed to pick me up from the orphanage. What if he came and I wasn’t there? What if he thought I ran off? What if he thought I’d gone looking for trouble again?

I began hyperventilating as I clutched the blanket. “No, no, no,” I whispered to myself. “Benedict will be angry with me. He’ll think I’m being silly again.”

I tried to stand, but my legs felt like jelly. Suddenly, a nurse rushed in, telling me to stay down, but I shook my head stubbornly. 

“No, you don’t understand. My husband will come and he won’t find me and then he’ll be upset, and then he won’t hold me tonight, and that’s the best part of the day. Please, I can’t stay here.”

The nurse gave me that look people always give me when they think I don’t make sense and, maybe I didn’t, but all I could think about was Benedict showing up at the orphanage, waiting in the car, frowning when I didn’t appear, and then deciding I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore.

I buried my face in my hands and started to cry.

“Ma’am, you really need to calm down, or else you will affect your baby.”

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