Waiting for the Moon

"Oh, God," he moaned, hating himself, cursing his weakness. He turned onto his side, burying the ugly half of his face in the soft folds of the pillow. What was he going to do now? What could he do?

A good man would release her. Kiss her on the cheek and smile and say a quiet good-bye.

The thought sliced through him, caused an ache so deep, so sharp, that for a second he thought he was having a heart attack. He welcomed the pain, almost wished for a swift, sudden death. For he had looked into his soul and seen the agonizing, ugly truth.

He wasn't a good man.

Chapter Twenty-five

The first morning bell rang at 4:30.

For a few seconds, before Selena was truly awake, the first pale glimmer of daylight was welcome on her face. She blinked sleepily and stretched her arms, thinking of the day to come.

Beside her, a bed creaked, then another and another, reminding her sharply that she wasn't home.

"Get up, old slug," Sister Bertha teased.

Selena pushed up to her elbows and glanced around, surprised to find that Lucy and Theresa and Bertha were already dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. They stood in a loose triangle, staring across the room at her.

Another bell rang.

All down the hallway, doors squeaked open. Feet shuffled almost silently past their room.

"You'd better hurry," Lucy said. "It's five minutes till the next bell-and by then we're supposed to be in the men's retiring rooms, picking up their laundry."

Bertha clucked reassuringly. "Lucy, you stay here and help Sister Agnes. Theresa and I can do the men's rooms today."

"Bertha-" Theresa said in a low, warning voice, her gaze darting to the closed door.

"No one needs to know." Bertha flashed Selena a quick smile, and pulled Theresa toward the door. Bertha

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peeked out, then they both scurried across the hallway and disappeared.

Selena pushed back her covers and swung out of the narrow bed. Lucy came up beside her and showed Selena in swift, spare movements how to draw back the blankets and fold them over the foot of the bed to air them out.

"Keeps the linens fresh," Lucy said with a wink before she scurried to the wall and pulled a broom from the hook.

Lucy swept the smooth pine floor, brushing the wood chips and ash from the place near the stove. Then she wiped down the woodwork and windowsills, and refilled the oil lamp from a big bottle beside the commode.

Selena stood there for a second, not knowing what to do, then she went to her drawer and pulled out the brown cotton and worsted gown. Dressing quickly, she washed up and went to the window.

Another bell rang.

Lucy replaced the broom and dustbox on their wall hooks and turned to Selena. "Time to start our chores."

Selena gave one last look to the doll who lay on her bed, then turned and followed Lucy from the room.

The hallway was filled with people. Men on the east side, walking silently, single file; women on the west. They nodded silently and greeted each other in subdued voices, barely making eye contact.

Except for Elliot. He stood alone in the doorway of his retiring room, his big hat crushed in his hands. Selena stared at him. Across the row of people, their eyes met.

There was such regret in his eyes. She frowned, wanting to reach out for him, to beg some answers, but the second passed too quickly.

He crammed the floppy-brimmed hat on his head, dropped his gaze to the floor, and merged into the male crowd, disappearing almost instantly down the stairs.