suspended.”
Mum stared at her in disbelief. “Isn’t that a bit drastic? What has convinced them so thoroughly that you’re responsible?”
Hannah shrugged. Her eyes burned, and if she didn’t get control of herself, she’d be blubbering in a moment. “When I pro—protested my innocence, the abbess said that if it’s true that I didn’t do this—and she thinks I did—that there are lots of other things I’ve done that I never got caught for, so the punishment is still due. Then I got lecture number three.”
“What is lecture number three?”
“The abbess has three lectures she gives us girls who end up in her office. Number one is for the first time you show up, and she tells you about the folly of sin. The second is if your transgression is more severe; it’s about the evils of a dissipated life. This one was about penance and purgatory. We all have them memorized.”
“Too bad none of them have made an actual dent in your conscience.”
“The abbess and I don’t see sin in the same light, Mum. I think sin is swearing and lying and things like that. She thinks it’s going down the up stairwell.”
Mum was silent, and Hannah turned again to the mail. The last letter on the pile was from Kalgoorlie. “Look, Mum—a letter from Uncle Aidan! We haven’t heard from him in a long time, have we? I mean, not even at Christmas!”
“That’s true. I hope it doesn’t mean bad news.” Mum peeked once more into the oven, then swung it open fully and reached for the hot pads.
“Might I open it, Mum?”
“The pie or the letter?” Mum smiled, reaching into the oven.
Hannah grinned. “Both.”
Mum carried the steaming pie to the table. “The pie waits for dinner. You may open the letter.”
“Lillipilli pie! My favorite! Ta, Mum!” Hannah ripped into the letter.
What scratchy, tortured writing! Hannah would receive a failing mark were she to write a letter like this for class. Obviously, Uncle Aidan considered punctuation an option rather than a necessity. Was she reading this right? “Mum, look!”
Mum sat down at the table. Hannah handed her the letter and peered over her shoulder.
There was a scowl on her face as she read, “Dear Cole you’ll be pleased to know your son is safe here with us however we have fallen on hard times recently with the drop in gold prices and cannot afford an extra mouth for very long we would appreciate a donation from you toward the support of your son he’s welcome of course good to see him sincerely Aidan.” It was a breathless reading without the punctuation.
Hannah looked into her mother’s smokey gray-green eyes and saw there a mix of hope and pain. “He’s safe. Your prayers are still working, right, Mum?”
Samantha gave her daughter a one-armed hug and dropped the letter on the table. “Too right. Your suspension and now this. Your father is going to be livid.”
Hannah flopped back into her chair. “Mum? Colin must be ill or hurt. If he weren’t, he’d work for his keep, surely; Uncle Aidan wouldn’t have to go begging.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” The glint of hope in her eyes had fled and Mum suddenly looked very weary.
Hannah studied the pie without really seeing it. She was sure much of Mum’s pain was derived from Hannah herself. Even when she was innocent, she caused Mum pain, and Papa, too. Take the mess at school, for example. If she had actually caused the pipe problem, would she have been the one to report it? Of course not! Apparently, her mistake was to tell the nearest sister the moment she discovered it—or discovering the leak at all.
And now, Papa would surely make a big scene of it. He’d go storming to the school and cause a fuss. At home he’d rant and rave again about Colin’s sneaky streak and stubbornness. That hurt worst of all, for Hannah knew the torture in her brother’s heart, and that it had driven him from home. And now that same pain of alienation was torturing her.
Colin ill? That
Mum stared at her in disbelief. “Isn’t that a bit drastic? What has convinced them so thoroughly that you’re responsible?”
Hannah shrugged. Her eyes burned, and if she didn’t get control of herself, she’d be blubbering in a moment. “When I pro—protested my innocence, the abbess said that if it’s true that I didn’t do this—and she thinks I did—that there are lots of other things I’ve done that I never got caught for, so the punishment is still due. Then I got lecture number three.”
“What is lecture number three?”
“The abbess has three lectures she gives us girls who end up in her office. Number one is for the first time you show up, and she tells you about the folly of sin. The second is if your transgression is more severe; it’s about the evils of a dissipated life. This one was about penance and purgatory. We all have them memorized.”
“Too bad none of them have made an actual dent in your conscience.”
“The abbess and I don’t see sin in the same light, Mum. I think sin is swearing and lying and things like that. She thinks it’s going down the up stairwell.”
Mum was silent, and Hannah turned again to the mail. The last letter on the pile was from Kalgoorlie. “Look, Mum—a letter from Uncle Aidan! We haven’t heard from him in a long time, have we? I mean, not even at Christmas!”
“That’s true. I hope it doesn’t mean bad news.” Mum peeked once more into the oven, then swung it open fully and reached for the hot pads.
“Might I open it, Mum?”
“The pie or the letter?” Mum smiled, reaching into the oven.
Hannah grinned. “Both.”
Mum carried the steaming pie to the table. “The pie waits for dinner. You may open the letter.”
“Lillipilli pie! My favorite! Ta, Mum!” Hannah ripped into the letter.
What scratchy, tortured writing! Hannah would receive a failing mark were she to write a letter like this for class. Obviously, Uncle Aidan considered punctuation an option rather than a necessity. Was she reading this right? “Mum, look!”
Mum sat down at the table. Hannah handed her the letter and peered over her shoulder.
There was a scowl on her face as she read, “Dear Cole you’ll be pleased to know your son is safe here with us however we have fallen on hard times recently with the drop in gold prices and cannot afford an extra mouth for very long we would appreciate a donation from you toward the support of your son he’s welcome of course good to see him sincerely Aidan.” It was a breathless reading without the punctuation.
Hannah looked into her mother’s smokey gray-green eyes and saw there a mix of hope and pain. “He’s safe. Your prayers are still working, right, Mum?”
Samantha gave her daughter a one-armed hug and dropped the letter on the table. “Too right. Your suspension and now this. Your father is going to be livid.”
Hannah flopped back into her chair. “Mum? Colin must be ill or hurt. If he weren’t, he’d work for his keep, surely; Uncle Aidan wouldn’t have to go begging.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” The glint of hope in her eyes had fled and Mum suddenly looked very weary.
Hannah studied the pie without really seeing it. She was sure much of Mum’s pain was derived from Hannah herself. Even when she was innocent, she caused Mum pain, and Papa, too. Take the mess at school, for example. If she had actually caused the pipe problem, would she have been the one to report it? Of course not! Apparently, her mistake was to tell the nearest sister the moment she discovered it—or discovering the leak at all.
And now, Papa would surely make a big scene of it. He’d go storming to the school and cause a fuss. At home he’d rant and rave again about Colin’s sneaky streak and stubbornness. That hurt worst of all, for Hannah knew the torture in her brother’s heart, and that it had driven him from home. And now that same pain of alienation was torturing her.
Colin ill? That
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