Read Online Annie's Stories by Cindy Thomson - Free Book Online Page A

sheets. “Splendid day for washing,” she said.
    They sent most of their laundry out to be done, but the sheets and linens they did themselves. It had taken Annie several washing days to bury her fear of hot wash water stemming from her toil in the Magdalene Laundry. Even now the impression came rushing back against her wishes. . . .
    “Not good enough,” Sister Mary Martha said, plunging Annie’s hands back into the scalding wash water.
    Annie gasped and tried to pull her hands out, but the nun held them down.
    “No, don’t!” Sister Catherine, a novice, complained.
    But no one listened to her. The punishment was meant towash away Annie’s sins because, as the doctor had told her, she was a sinner of the worst kind. She didn’t know what she had done. She still didn’t. But she obviously was not good enough for God to want to keep her from that place.
    Eventually she’d gotten past it. The effort had helped to bolster her will to share with unwanted girls the power of a story, the importance of keeping only good thoughts. This small victory, conquering her fear of washing, she had achieved without help. She could do even more. So long as she kept her wits about her.
    Mrs. Hawkins had been patient with her slow washing, understanding that the Magdalene Laundry had bruised her soul. Even so, the Hawk had insisted she do the work.
    “Nothing will help you heal faster than facing the very thing you hated,” the woman had said.
    She’d struggled to forget and in fact couldn’t, but with practice the memory no longer made her hands sting.
    Annie lifted her gaze to the ceiling to collect her thoughts and bring her mind back to the task before her. “Well, ’tis warm enough to dry the sheets in the air.”
    “That it is, love, warm. When you finish there, would you help me?”
    “Of course.”
    That night Annie woke suddenly from a dream. She and her father were in a field with the mice of his stories. She’d gotten separated from everyone, and no matter which way she turned, she could not find her way out of the field. She heard their voices, but she was still utterly lost and unable to remember the way out. When she awakened, she threw her sweaty sheets off her legs. The hour seemed late, but she was wide awake and decided to go to the parlor and look at the stories again.
    Once she had the box in her lap, she realized how very alone she was with everyone else sleeping. Deep in the box, under the loose writing paper, her father’s stories rested. She pulled one out.
    By the light of a candle she read the title. “Nolan the Nice Mouse.” She remembered Nolan. He was a reluctant soldier in Omah’s army. She smiled and set it aside. She was cold and needed the blanket from her bed. On her way back to her room, she glanced at the mail on the entry table. The top letter appeared to be from Kirsten’s brother. She was right. He had replied promptly. She returned to the light of the candle in the parlor and her stories.
    A tiny tapping noise came from outside the window. Annie nearly jumped out of her skin. “Who’s there?”
    “Me, Annie. Let me in. The door is locked.”
    “Kirsten? What are you doing outside?” Thinking she must have decided to use the toilet outside the kitchen and locked herself out, Annie hurried to the front door to let the girl in.
    When Annie opened the door, she was surprised to find Kirsten not in a nightgown, but fully dressed. Her hair was a tangled mess over her face. “Where have you been?”
    “At work. Hurry, shut the door, please.”
    Annie gazed past her into the night, then leaned her head out the door and looked in all directions. A hobo leaned against the lamppost at the corner, but that was not unusual. “What’s wrong, so?”
    “I just got home.” The girl stumbled in and steadied herself by holding on to the banister.
    “I don’t understand. Why so late?”
    Instead of answering, Kirsten picked up the letter. “This is like the other one. Has my brother