“Aye, Davey. I’ve dreamt of crushing your bullocks more than once. Never touch me again, ya arrogant ass!”
He starts to laugh before she reaches the door. “You’ll come crawling to me soon enough. I heard them talking about you last night. You’re out of time. You should consider my offer.”
Bronnah rushes out and down the hall limping into her room, closing the door softly behind her. Trembling with rage, tempered with fear she walks to a small table with a wash basin. Staring into the mirror, she is shocked at the spray of blood on her forehead and apron. Her habit may be drab, but she takes pride in keeping it clean. Jerking off the headpiece she lifts the apron off quickly and sets it to soak in the basin. Next, she scrubs her face to wash away the stain.
“Tomorrows confession will be eye-opening,” she mumbles with a semi-hysterical laugh.
Turning to look at her bed, she notices a letter. “Oh!” Her mother’s name is written in a beautiful script. Exhaustion forgotten, she sits on the hard cot that has been hers for the past six years and traces her fingers across the letters.
Carefully, she opens the envelope and wonders who her mother got to write it for her and how she got the money to pay for paper and an envelope. She reads swiftly, and her hands begin to tremble.
My Dearest Daughter,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. We're so proud of you, Bronnah. Please know that you are in our daily prayers and trust that your Da is happy knowing that you are doing God's work. Though we miss you dreadfully, I take solace in knowing you're are well cared for at the Sisters of Charity Academy for girls.
Our family news is dire. The rent was raised again, and we could not meet the demand. Our eviction came in the early morning hours. They destroyed our home, as humble as it was, we treasured it and the memories it held. Your Da didn’t take it too well.
We’ve been at the workhouse for three months in Kilkenny. I haven’t seen the baby since he was taken to the infant ward. Inmates are not allowed to mix. I fear he will not survive the month. He was so small and frail at birth. Though desperately seeking work there is none to be found. Patrick is good, mostly.
Would you believe he snuck in twice to see me last week? He made me promise not to cry anymore, or he wouldn't come again. I love that boy! He brought a note from your Da, and it did my heart good to see Patrick's penmanship improving. I pray he doesn't get caught sneaking around. I'm afraid he's learning a great deal more than I wished for him.
The sisters say that after a year we may be able to get passage to America. We are thinking on it seriously. Bronnah, I want you to focus on your work and take care of your own health. We want you to be happy. I will write again soon.
God Bless you, my daughter.
Mother
May 10, 1871
Teardrops stained the paper, and she quickly pats it dry to protect the script. The door flies open, and Lizzy rushes inside. Elizabeth Mcinish is her best friend and roommate these last six years. Bronnah and Elizabeth were lucky enough to be chosen by the Sisters of Charity Academy to live there and be educated as nurses.
Lizzy skids to a stop, concern playing across her face, she rips a black scarf from her long dark brown hair. “What’s wrong?”
Bronnah hands her the letter and stands up releasing her long white-blonde hair from her scarf and begins unbraiding it. One of the requirements of living and working with the Sisters is that they wear the habits of the nuns. They dress in black with a white apron over the top of the rough linen dress. Some of the girls like, Bronnah, are forced to cover their hair because it causes too many distractions among the inmates they serve.
At twenty-one, Bronnah is stunning with high cheekbones, lush pink lips, and a beautiful figure. But her eyes are her most arresting feature. Large, round green eyes with a slight tilt, lined in solid black lashes. It was decided that she must cover her hair and work in the infant and children’s ward for her own safety. Her rare beauty is a challenge for her more days than she cares to think of.
The Academy was normally only for the wealthy families and their children's education. Sister Hannah had taken pity on the poor fifteen-year-old parish girl who had buried her husband of three months. Bronnah was one of a few girls recommended for a new pilot program to help the community. It was made up of girls from the surrounding areas that showed the most potential to become nurses. They were from all walks of life, including some of the most impoverished families. Bronnah had shown exceptional intelligence and had a gift for languages. Over the last six-years, she had been at the Academy Bronnah had excelled as a student and caregiver.
“I’m so sorry, Bronnah, but all is not lost. At least in the workhouse you know they are being fed and taken care of. Come out with me tonight. It will take your mind off everything.” Lizzy jumps up and begins tearing off her habit and apron, tossing them in the corner of the room. She strips and washes her lush body quickly, using her basin of cold water, before pulling on a corset that pushes up her large breasts. A bustle follows, and a red lacy dress drapes over her fine stockings and boots.
Elizabeth Mcinish is from a very well to do family. At sixteen, she's younger than
