Mary Eunice had shunned the baby she'd given birth to six months prior. It was the most traumatic thing she had ever endured, and she could not believe why that man had wanted to keep it. She had already lost her clerical position, why would he force himself into such a position where he'd have to lose his too? She could only imagine it was due to all of his wrong doings at Briarcliff Institution. He felt as if raising his daughter instead of orphaning the child would somehow be penance for strangling Shelly, allowing for Jude's imprisonment, hiring a Nazi doctor,-the crimes were endless.
If Mary had any care in the world for the safety of her child, she'd have never allowed him to take the girl under his wing. That was the thing. She hadn't a care. She surely didn't want to take the fretful baby home in her arms. As far as Mary Eunice was concerned, she left Briarcliff restored to her previous state of piousness. A new person. Timothy could keep the baby to restore his conscience. She could move on.
Zipping her blue dress up from the back, then reaching backwards over her shoulder and tugging the zip completely up, Mary thought of all possible events that could play out that day. She'd always been good at teaching, and was entirely as excited as she could be, given the circumstances. She hadn't seen the baby in three whole months, but it's father seemed to be doing well for it. It. She had to remind herself, that her- his daughter had a name. Dorothy. He named his daughter Dorothy Jude. "What a joke..." she thought, combing her pale blonde hair.
Mary turned off the ignition to her car, and sat there enveloped in her thoughts. Sunday school teaching wasn't the best job in the world, and it certainly wasn't her choice of venue, but it was what she deserved. Briarcliff had finally managed to relocate her, renounce her vows, and still allow her to serve God. The child's father had immediately renounced, and left Briarcliff on his own terms. The institution soon failed without his presence, and became an influx for local prisons. Mary was happy to leave. And so was he. She was also happy he left. The product of their sins had been a wet screaming monster, bound to it's host for at least 18 years.
As she walked into the church, her daughter was the first thing she heard. She'd know that cry for the rest of her life, how could she forget it? Standing at the front, speaking with some patrons, was Timothy. He was holding Dorothy close to him, gently bouncing her, lulling her to stop crying. Mary, quoting Lana Winter's Maniac, could not believe this Cosmic joke. She turned on her heels and immediately walked out, just as Timothy caught her eye.
"Sister Eunice?"
But it was too late, the doors had already shut. He politely nodded to the folks he was speaking with, indicating his urgency to leave, and walked briskly towards the exit. As he entered the parking lot, he scanned the area for her. Noticing the lights flicker on a black Falcon, he jogged over, while trying to calm his screaming baby.
"Mary stop!" he shouted, as she fumbled with her keys, tears pooling in her eyes.
"I can't do this Timothy." she said, turning on the ignition.
"Just talk to me Mary! You show up in my city, at my church, and I'm expecting some explanations! For half a second I thought you'd came to see our daughter!" he said, over Dorothy's cries.
"It was a mistake, this was all a mistake." she said, in regard to her placement. She slumped in her seat, "I've messed up so badly."
Timothy starred at her with her head in her hands, and took the keys from the ignition. The only noise now was from Dorothy.
"Everything is okay. Shhh" he cooed over the child, coaxing her to silence, to no avail.
"Let me see her." Mary said, wiping her tears away. He just stared. She was beautiful even when she cried.
"Get out of the car first." Timothy thought of all of the ways he could convince Mary Eunice to stay.
"Timothy you have my keys for fucks sake."
"Sister!"
"I'm not," she paused, glancing at her bare left index finger, "a Sister anymore." Mary ran her hands through her hair, then tightly gripped the wheel. She pushed open the door, and slowly stepped out of her car. She could smell the baby powder and formula on her daughter.
Timothy gently handed over the infant. Mary grazed her palm over her soft cheek, and sighed in shame. Shame that she had relations with the Monsignor Howard, shame that she had broken the trust Sister Jude once had in her, shame that she has a daughter resulting from infidelity, and shame that she abandoned that daughter. She was much worse for wear after the devil had found a better occupant. It had changed her. Gently humming to her, the baby had ceased to cry, and looked up at her mother with the same blue eyes.
"Mr and Mrs Tillman, pleasure seeing you here." Mary glanced up, Timothy turned around and was talking to a small family. There was man, woman in a strange green dress, and their two children. She watched as the older sister wet her finger, and stuck it into the younger boy's ear. He shouted and threw his gum straight into her hair. Mary decided family life really wasn't for her,...
"Oh she's such a doll,"
'Are they talking to me?' Mary wondered, as her attention stayed on the two kids now chasing each other through the church playground. So carefree, she thought about what they'd think if they knew of the horrible world that was to come for them.
She glanced over, flashing a fake smile.
"Mary Eunice, this is Thomas and Julia Tillman."
She awkwardly attempted to hold out her right hand to shake hands with them, noticing how clammy Julia's hands were.
"Well isn't she the cutest thing?" Julia inquired, gently playing with the baby's hands. "I tell ya, she looks exactly like you."
"She's-" Timothy was cut off
"Thank you, she does doesn't she?"
The kids had stopped to stare at her. Pastor Howard had always said Dorothy Jude's mother was far far away, in a place much worse than what you can imagine. They assumed she was in hell. Did she rise up from the dead? The two kids now stood shyly behind their parents.
"Oh absolutely." Julia spoke, letting go of the infants small hands and turning to Timothy.
"It's a pleasure for you to finally introduce us. We've been wondering where she's been hiding all this time! Dorothy's mother, that is."
As they turned to the church, continuing to snicker and sneer, Timothy sighed. Mary shuddered at the word. Mother. She didn't deserve such a title. She'd held the girl for less than 10 minutes in her whole life. Now, suddenly, she was a mother?
"If you would, please." He said, reaching for the baby.
Mary gently handed her back, before crossing her arms over her chest. She could sense he was bitter and confused. The silence was killing her, the only noise being the slight breeze in the winter air. She shivered, biting her bottom lip and glancing at the building, deciding wether to stay or depart.
"I should be getting her inside, she had a terrible cough last week. Kept me up with her until the earliest hours of daylight." Timothy said, getting a good look at Mary. Her pale blue dress surely didn't fit the part she was intended to play. He found it odd that she felt so comfortable showing so much leg after being required to wear a habit for nearly two years. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy it, despite how much he wanted to hate it.
"Well?" he said. What Timothy wanted wasn't for Mary to mother their daughter, he wanted more of her for himself.
She gave him a questioning look.
"Come along." he said, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her to the church. They had been fond of physical contact back at Briar cliff. But still Mary was surprised at this gesture. She stepped ahead out of his touch, and stopped outside of the grand doors. She looked at Timothy, and Dorothy playing with her thin gold baby bracelet.
"This is all too wrong, I can't be here. I'm sorry. I really am." spoke the young ex-nun, gently kissing her daughter's cheek and starting to walk away.
"It is God's will Mary." shouted Timothy after her, grabbing her attention.
"What is?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She swept the hair from her face as it was tossed around by the wind.
"That you be here today, see Dorothy once again, be a mother to this child you created."
Mary Eunice stood staring. She couldn't raise a child. Emotionally she was a child herself. Dorothy now had her key's in her tiny hands, fiddling furiously with them.
"You have my keys." she said.
Timothy handed them over.
And then, she left.