Read Online Downtown by Anne Rivers Siddons - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne Rivers Siddons
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Contemporary, Man-Woman Relationships, Young Women, Women Journalists, Periodicals, Atlanta (Ga.)
Ads: Link
into the ceiling and scattered back down over me. I tried again: “Holy Mary, Mother of God…”
It was no use. Apparently the Blessed Virgin had turned her head as inexorably away from me as her handmaiden downstairs. I did not try again.
Far down the hall I heard someone begin to cry. The sound was muffled behind the thickness of old oak and ANNE RIVERS SIDDONS / 48
perhaps thin layers of old percale, but it was unmistakable.
In my house in Corkie I had heard that and all the other sounds of living through the paper-thin walls. I knew tears when I heard them. I lay still listening to the crying, wondering if I should get up and make my way down the dark hall, listening at each door in turn, until I found it. But then I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs and moving down the hall, and stopping, and the sound of a door opening and closing, and soon the weeping stopped, and at last I slept.
3
I DREAMED OF HOME AND EARLY MORNING AND BREAKFAST, and when I smelled coffee and the hot steam of pancakes I tried at first, in the manner of dreamers waking, to work it into my dream.
Then I felt and saw light spilling over me, and heard a voice on the edge of laughter say, “Good morning, sleepy head. Don’t you have a date downtown?”
I raised my head groggily and saw a young nun setting a covered tray down on the desk. In the dazzle of light from the window her face seemed to gleam with a kind of translucence. She sat down on the edge of my bed and held out a cup of coffee.
“Drink up,” she said, and her voice was crisp and light, like the first bite from an apple. It was neither Southern nor Irish. “Sister Mary James told me you missed your dinner last night, and I know it’s your first day at your new job, so I thought a little head start on it might come in handy. Don’t go thinking breakfast in bed is part of the service, though.”
“Thank you, Sister,” I said automatically, blinking in the brightness of the diamond light through the window, 49
ANNE RIVERS SIDDONS / 50
and the music of her voice. The whole room, the whole world, seemed transmuted by light. After two days in murk-iness I could scarcely take it in.
“Are you Sister Clementia?” I said, not believing it. She simply could not move in tandem with the dark Sister Mary James.
The young nun laughed. “Sister would not thank you for that,” she said. “No, I’m Sister Joan. I’m one of the two weekday sisters. Sister Clementia and Sister Mary James take weekends. I saw them when we changed shifts, though, and they said that you’d spent your first day out with Rachel and come in too late for supper, and I knew then that neither of them would have offered you anything on the side. I’m afraid they’re both convinced that Rachel is their cross to bear on this earth. And I knew you’d be in a hurry to get to your job.
What a grand one, too. An editor, now. Do you know that Downtown just won some kind of fancy award for best city magazine, or something? Everyone is talking about it, and Mr. Comfort, too. I think it’s fully as good as any national magazine I see.”
“You read Downtown ?” I could not help staring. She laughed again. Her eyes were warm and brown, and there was a scattering of freckles on her nose. I thought she could not be much older than I.
“I graduated from the Chicago Art Institute,” she said. “I know good graphics when I see them. You must be very good. Mr. Comfort said you’re coming in as senior editor.”
“You know Mr. Comfort?” I knew that I must sound like a parrot.
“We all know him here. He’s on the board. And I serve on a kind of unofficial commission he and some other city leaders have started, an ecumenical council on race. There are representatives from all the churches, 51 / DOWNTOWN
black and white. Rabbi Jacob Rothschild is on it, and our Archbishop Hallinan. It’s going to do great good, I think.
Anyway, Mr. Comfort said to look out for you. And,” her eyes crinkled,
It was no use. Apparently the Blessed Virgin had turned her head as inexorably away from me as her handmaiden downstairs. I did not try again.
Far down the hall I heard someone begin to cry. The sound was muffled behind the thickness of old oak and ANNE RIVERS SIDDONS / 48
perhaps thin layers of old percale, but it was unmistakable.
In my house in Corkie I had heard that and all the other sounds of living through the paper-thin walls. I knew tears when I heard them. I lay still listening to the crying, wondering if I should get up and make my way down the dark hall, listening at each door in turn, until I found it. But then I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs and moving down the hall, and stopping, and the sound of a door opening and closing, and soon the weeping stopped, and at last I slept.
3
I DREAMED OF HOME AND EARLY MORNING AND BREAKFAST, and when I smelled coffee and the hot steam of pancakes I tried at first, in the manner of dreamers waking, to work it into my dream.
Then I felt and saw light spilling over me, and heard a voice on the edge of laughter say, “Good morning, sleepy head. Don’t you have a date downtown?”
I raised my head groggily and saw a young nun setting a covered tray down on the desk. In the dazzle of light from the window her face seemed to gleam with a kind of translucence. She sat down on the edge of my bed and held out a cup of coffee.
“Drink up,” she said, and her voice was crisp and light, like the first bite from an apple. It was neither Southern nor Irish. “Sister Mary James told me you missed your dinner last night, and I know it’s your first day at your new job, so I thought a little head start on it might come in handy. Don’t go thinking breakfast in bed is part of the service, though.”
“Thank you, Sister,” I said automatically, blinking in the brightness of the diamond light through the window, 49
ANNE RIVERS SIDDONS / 50
and the music of her voice. The whole room, the whole world, seemed transmuted by light. After two days in murk-iness I could scarcely take it in.
“Are you Sister Clementia?” I said, not believing it. She simply could not move in tandem with the dark Sister Mary James.
The young nun laughed. “Sister would not thank you for that,” she said. “No, I’m Sister Joan. I’m one of the two weekday sisters. Sister Clementia and Sister Mary James take weekends. I saw them when we changed shifts, though, and they said that you’d spent your first day out with Rachel and come in too late for supper, and I knew then that neither of them would have offered you anything on the side. I’m afraid they’re both convinced that Rachel is their cross to bear on this earth. And I knew you’d be in a hurry to get to your job.
What a grand one, too. An editor, now. Do you know that Downtown just won some kind of fancy award for best city magazine, or something? Everyone is talking about it, and Mr. Comfort, too. I think it’s fully as good as any national magazine I see.”
“You read Downtown ?” I could not help staring. She laughed again. Her eyes were warm and brown, and there was a scattering of freckles on her nose. I thought she could not be much older than I.
“I graduated from the Chicago Art Institute,” she said. “I know good graphics when I see them. You must be very good. Mr. Comfort said you’re coming in as senior editor.”
“You know Mr. Comfort?” I knew that I must sound like a parrot.
“We all know him here. He’s on the board. And I serve on a kind of unofficial commission he and some other city leaders have started, an ecumenical council on race. There are representatives from all the churches, 51 / DOWNTOWN
black and white. Rabbi Jacob Rothschild is on it, and our Archbishop Hallinan. It’s going to do great good, I think.
Anyway, Mr. Comfort said to look out for you. And,” her eyes crinkled,
Similar Books
