Waiting for the Moon

The dark-clad crowd buzzed in around her, talking in subdued voices.

A tall, elderly woman pushed through the horde. When she saw Selena, her narrow, wrinkled face broke into a bright smile. "You are home."

Selena looked at Elliot quickly. She didn't know what to say, what to do. She saw the welcome in the old woman's eyes and knew it was a true welcome, but she couldn't feel it.

"Sister Agnes was injured, Eldress Beatrice," Elliot said. "She has no memory of us."

The crowd fell silent. Selena felt their eyes on her.

It was a moment before Beatrice spoke, and when she did, her voice was whispery and soft. "No wonder you were gone so long. Someone will show you around and get you reacquainted. You will want to change from your worldly clothes and cover your hair as a proper sister should. You may rest for the remainder of this day, then begin your rotation in the laundry tomorrow morning." She smiled at Selena and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure it will come back to you in no time. You have lived with us for many, many years."

"Her injury is extensive," Elliot said. "She will perhaps need help from the women."

The eldress gave her another quick smile. "Our Sister Agnes always did need extra help." She turned. "Sister Lucinda. Show Sister Agnes to the dwelling house and get her settled in."

A small, birdlike woman with jet black hair and twin-

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kling blue eyes slipped through the crowd. She was dressed in

the same fashion as the other women, but her gown was a velvety shade of blue that matched her eyes. "Hello, Sister Agnes," she said, offering Selena a genuine smile. "I've missed you."

Another welcome that should have warmed Selena and didn't. She did her best to smile. "Hello ... Sister

Lucinda."

The woman winked and slipped her arm through Selena's, drawing her close. "Call me Lucy," she whispered, leading Selena through the crowd.

Selena passed Elliot, and he didn't say a word, didn't reach out to touch her. She got a quick look at the taut, controlled expression on his face, and wondered what he was so angry about, but she didn't have a chance to ask. Lucy maneuvered them at a rapid pace through the people, through a white picket fence and up a well-tended path toward a huge, white house.

The dwelling sat on a little knoll, hemmed in by old, broad-leafed trees. Precisely spaced windows, framed by dark green shutters, marched in two even rows across the first and second floors. Two front doors, accessed by two separate sets of steps, were in the middle

of the building.

"The men use the east door," Lucy said brightly. "And the women use the west."

Before Selena could remark on the oddity of this, Lucy was pulling her up the west steps. Lucy twisted the doorknob and opened the door to reveal a spacious, wooden-floored foyer. The entryway led into two separate, side-by-side hallways that ran the length of the house. At the end of the corridor an old grandfather clock stood guard between two identical open doors. Through the doors, Selena could see identical rooms, filled with wooden benches.

"Women on the west," Lucy said again, leading Selena through the left door, down the hallway, and up the stairs-also divided by a spindly railing.

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At the top of the stairs, the split hallway continued, leading to four equally spaced rooms, two on the right, two on the left. Lucy guided Selena toward the first of these doors and led her through.

It was a big, bright, airy room, with a wooden floor that reflected the sunlight. Selena liked it immediately. Warm, creamy walls framed the room, unadorned by pictures or paintings. A thin strip of wood ran in a straight line at eye level along each wall. The plank was set with wooden spikes, and from these evenly spaced spikes hung mops, brooms, and two elegantly simple ladder-back chairs. One whole wall was exquisite built-in drawers. In the center of the room sat a small cast-iron woodstove, its pipe running straight to the ceiling, then across the room in a perpendicular line. Narrow single beds occupied each corner. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a commode with a water pitcher and basin. Four neatly folded hand towels hung on hooks beside it.

Not a thing was out of place. Not a thing was unnecessary or ornamental, and yet the craftsmanship of the woodwork made it seem elaborate.

"This is our retiring room," Lucy said. "You and I share it with Sister Bertha and Sister Theresa."

Lucy glanced quickly back at the door, then darted over and closed it. "Is it true?" she whispered.

Selena turned to her, confused. "Is what true?"

"You don't remember any of us?"

"Why would I lie?"