Read Online Sister Noon by Karen Joy Fowler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Joy Fowler
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midst of her rigorous silence, her lies carried on without her.
Once her untruthfulness was known, she became an easy target for pranks. Cups of sand were poured into her shoes at night, followed by cups of water. Imogene Reed caught a fat black spider and saved it in a glass, to be dropped onto Jenny’s face as she slept. The cores of several apples were stuffed into her pillowcase.
The food at the Brown Ark was not what Jenny was used to. The discipline was also a hardship. She’d never before been expected to stay voluntarily in her chair, with its terrible spindled back, for hours at a time. She had never been asked to envision God’s disappointment in her. She had not been told to keep so clean. She reacted against confinement like a wild animal. She paced in her cage.
It was Jenny, then, whom Lizzie heard on the stairs. When Lizzie turned around, there she was, her eyes brooding, her hair wild as a nest of sticks. She had beenunable to do up the laces at the back of her dress, but was otherwise fully clothed.
“Jenny Ijub,” Lizzie said. “Little Jenny. You frightened me. You should be in bed.”
“I know.” Jenny began to back upstairs, her legs so short each step was a difficulty. Lizzie caught her by the arm. What a twig it was! Lizzie’s fingers wrapped about it and squeezed, and she could feel right down to the bone.
“Where were you going?”
“Nowhere.”
“All dressed up to go nowhere? It won’t do, miss. I know you’re fond of deceits. I’ll have the truth from you now.”
“I wanted the cat,” Jenny said. “The stripe cat.”
“The cats don’t come inside.”
“I didn’t know.”
Jenny’s voice was unconvincing, but she met Lizzie’s eyes steadily. The look on her face surprised Lizzie. It was an altogether adult look. It was anger.
“You know this very well, Jenny. Someone let the orange cat in today and it killed a lovely little bird. Jesus hates to hear a child lie.”
“I can’t sleep,” Jenny said, her chin coming up and her mouth setting. “I want to go out.”
Lizzie turned Jenny away, intending to march her smartly upstairs. Instead she fastened up the back of Jenny’s dress. She smoothed her own hair with one hand. “Get your coat. I won’t have you catching a chill. Matron has enough to do without nursing you.”
She fetched her own coat, too. Complying with Jenny’s wishes made no sense, but this seemed to be exactly the partthat appealed to Lizzie. You don’t have to be the same person your whole life, she told herself. She was excited to see that she could be impulsive, unpredictable. They don’t expect that from me, she thought. She would show them. She had no idea at all who they were.
THREE
n othing could have been more familiar than the walk in and out of the Brown Ark, but Lizzie had seldom done it at night. She was disoriented, exhilarated by the darkness and her own strange behavior. Everything common, the garbage and ash barrels, the cellar door, the dunes, was transformed into something she’d never seen before. She could be underwater, or in another century.
It was a clear, dry winter night. No streetlights lit this part of the city yet, and the moon had receded higher and smaller and dimmer in the sky. There were a preposterous number of stars. Who could ever need so many? Lizzie raised her chin to look at them all, strung like beads along the telegraph wires, scattered in handfuls across the netted void.
The cold air made a mist of her breath. A scratchy wind came over the dunes and into the sleeves of her coat. The orange cat was lurking by the door. It took off into the scrub, then turned to watch them. “You’re a bad one,” she told it, softly, but she knew it heard. Lizzie could see the unearthly jewels of its eyes.
What now? It was too late to get the buggy. Jenny was too small to walk more than a few blocks. Lizzie had gotten this far on momentum, but now she had to invent something. Now she had to have a plan.
“Where
Once her untruthfulness was known, she became an easy target for pranks. Cups of sand were poured into her shoes at night, followed by cups of water. Imogene Reed caught a fat black spider and saved it in a glass, to be dropped onto Jenny’s face as she slept. The cores of several apples were stuffed into her pillowcase.
The food at the Brown Ark was not what Jenny was used to. The discipline was also a hardship. She’d never before been expected to stay voluntarily in her chair, with its terrible spindled back, for hours at a time. She had never been asked to envision God’s disappointment in her. She had not been told to keep so clean. She reacted against confinement like a wild animal. She paced in her cage.
It was Jenny, then, whom Lizzie heard on the stairs. When Lizzie turned around, there she was, her eyes brooding, her hair wild as a nest of sticks. She had beenunable to do up the laces at the back of her dress, but was otherwise fully clothed.
“Jenny Ijub,” Lizzie said. “Little Jenny. You frightened me. You should be in bed.”
“I know.” Jenny began to back upstairs, her legs so short each step was a difficulty. Lizzie caught her by the arm. What a twig it was! Lizzie’s fingers wrapped about it and squeezed, and she could feel right down to the bone.
“Where were you going?”
“Nowhere.”
“All dressed up to go nowhere? It won’t do, miss. I know you’re fond of deceits. I’ll have the truth from you now.”
“I wanted the cat,” Jenny said. “The stripe cat.”
“The cats don’t come inside.”
“I didn’t know.”
Jenny’s voice was unconvincing, but she met Lizzie’s eyes steadily. The look on her face surprised Lizzie. It was an altogether adult look. It was anger.
“You know this very well, Jenny. Someone let the orange cat in today and it killed a lovely little bird. Jesus hates to hear a child lie.”
“I can’t sleep,” Jenny said, her chin coming up and her mouth setting. “I want to go out.”
Lizzie turned Jenny away, intending to march her smartly upstairs. Instead she fastened up the back of Jenny’s dress. She smoothed her own hair with one hand. “Get your coat. I won’t have you catching a chill. Matron has enough to do without nursing you.”
She fetched her own coat, too. Complying with Jenny’s wishes made no sense, but this seemed to be exactly the partthat appealed to Lizzie. You don’t have to be the same person your whole life, she told herself. She was excited to see that she could be impulsive, unpredictable. They don’t expect that from me, she thought. She would show them. She had no idea at all who they were.
THREE
n othing could have been more familiar than the walk in and out of the Brown Ark, but Lizzie had seldom done it at night. She was disoriented, exhilarated by the darkness and her own strange behavior. Everything common, the garbage and ash barrels, the cellar door, the dunes, was transformed into something she’d never seen before. She could be underwater, or in another century.
It was a clear, dry winter night. No streetlights lit this part of the city yet, and the moon had receded higher and smaller and dimmer in the sky. There were a preposterous number of stars. Who could ever need so many? Lizzie raised her chin to look at them all, strung like beads along the telegraph wires, scattered in handfuls across the netted void.
The cold air made a mist of her breath. A scratchy wind came over the dunes and into the sleeves of her coat. The orange cat was lurking by the door. It took off into the scrub, then turned to watch them. “You’re a bad one,” she told it, softly, but she knew it heard. Lizzie could see the unearthly jewels of its eyes.
What now? It was too late to get the buggy. Jenny was too small to walk more than a few blocks. Lizzie had gotten this far on momentum, but now she had to invent something. Now she had to have a plan.
“Where
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