Sister Julienne inwardly sighed as she beheld the tear that sprouted along her sleeve. She had been shifting boards from along the hut to tidy it up and make sure no snakes had taken refuge in the shade they provided, but it appeared her tunic got caught. She heard the rip and felt the blazing sun on bare skin.
With a mild huff, the nun placed down her board to further inspect the damage. To her dismay it wasn't just a slit, but a whole chunk of fabric had been torn out in the process. Perturbed, she wandered back to the hospital hut.
"Doctor, is there anywhere close I could go to get some fabric to mend this?" Sister Julienne asked the other woman she had worked with for the past three months. The graying blonde glanced down from the cloth divider she had been assembling and examined Sister Julienne's sleeve.
The female doctor bit her lip in thought.
"Hmm," she said, "there is a tapestry of sorts down the road… you could ask Symbiah (Sim-bi-ah) to take you there."
The nun nodded and hobbled back out into the heat of the day and asked the young African to take her there. The man said he would and helped the older woman in the back of his small tri-wheeled bike before taking off.
A short fifteen minute ride later on dusty roads that she had never been on, Sister Julienne suddenly saw a medium-sized hut appear on the horizon. As they neared the building, the nun spotted several brightly colored fabrics drying in the hazy sun, draped across twine that stretched between two twisted tree poles. Symbiah parked the buggy before helping Sister Julienne down.
As they went to the door, a woman in her thirties emerged from the hut, her face brightening at the sight of Symbiah.
She spoke loudly in the native tongue and drew him into a hug against her rather large frame. The young man laughed merrily and appeared to joke with the woman before turning and gesturing at Sister Julienne.
"Sister Julienne to see you, Jsut, (Hey-Soot)" Symbiah announced. The larger woman smiled grandly at the smaller nun.
"Ah, a woman of the cloth," Jsut said in her booming voice, her accent thick, "What brings you here to my home?"
Sister Julienne apologetically showed the other woman the tear in her clothing and Jsut clucked her tongue sympathetically.
"Ay, that is nasty…please, come; I shall mend it, and we have guinea cooking."
"You are too kind," Sister Julienne said earnestly, trailing after the seamstress. When she crossed the threshold she automatically sighed in contentment at the instant relief from the heat of the sun. The hut was cool and dim, and it took a moment to realize that she was in some sort of fabric store, multiple reels hanging along the wall, off of the dirt floor. Sister Julienne followed Jsut into a back room, which served more of a living quarters and work room.
Towards the back door another woman sat, also in her thirties, though of a smaller stature and darker skin tone of the Jsut. What gave Sister Julienne pause though, was as the woman stirred the pot of stew, she saw a ceremonial marriage belt around her waist…one that matched Jsut's.
"Sister, this is Heatys (He-ah-tis), my…gah, my wife," Jsut said, losing the word for a moment.
For a moment Sister Julienne lost track of her manners and stared as Heatys smiled very kindly up at her. The darker woman asked something of her wife, though she was gazing serenely at the nun as she said it.
"Eck, Heatys wants to know if you are hungry," Jsut said nonchalantly, reaching through a pile of supplies and picking out needed tools for the job, "Our sons trapped the guinea yesterday."
"Your sons?" Sister Julienne echoed despite herself.
"Yes, we have six of them," Jsut said, gesturing for Sister Julienne to seat herself across the table as she fiddled with a needle, "and we have four daughters."
"I'm…I'm terribly sorry," Sister Julienne said, apologizing for her confusion, "Your children…are they begotten of a past marriage or…"
Jsut paused before she glanced up at Sister Julienne's troubled expression and released a booming laugh.
"Ah-la," she chirped, attempting to contain her mirth, "No, they were orphaned and we took them in as our own; as is our duty as ones who cannot conceive."
"I see," Sister Julienne said, gazing around for a trace of evidence that these children existed. She spotted some wooden toys in the corner, though no actual children were in sight.
Jsut seemed amused by Sister Julienne's bewildered expression as she calmly began to pair up certain blue's to her clothing before deciding on one and trimming it up. From the floor, Heatys murmured something, though she didn't look up from the embers of the fire when she said it. Jsut murmured back in kind, focused intently on her handiwork before measuring out a stretch of string and beginning to stich up the damage, her practiced hands making a fast time of it.
The pair continued to murmur in their native tongue, every once in a while chuckling in low tones at something the other said. Sister Julienne observed in silence, trying desperately to understand correctly; that Jsut had not misspoke when she used the word 'wife'.
"My wife wishes to know if you are with the group from London," Jsut said, suddenly addressing the nun.
"Yes, we are from Nonnatus House, in the East End," she responded instinctively, though she knew the other would have no idea where that was.
"What is your practice there?" Jsut asked curiously, lining up the two edges of compatible fabric and sewing them together.
"We work with resident midwives and respond to births."
"A Duala?"
"Yes," Sister Julienne said with a blink. Jsut appeared to relay this to Heatys, in which the other woman responded animatedly.
"Heatys is a Duala," Jsut explained at Sister Julienne's questioning look, "Though she does not practice as often as she used to."
"I see," Sister Julienne said, smiling at the seated woman.
Heatys glanced at the pot before announcing something to Jsut, who was tying off her handiwork.
"Ah, the guinea is done," Jsut explained as Heatys called out the door to nothing in particular.
Quite suddenly children appeared at the doorway, ranging from the ages of a toddler to those nearing adulthood. They chatted amiably amongst themselves before falling into a tense silence at the presence of the nun. Jsut seemed to be giving an introduction of sorts, and soon the whole lot chorused, "Du'rma Sister Julienne!"
"Hello," the older woman said kindly, rising up, "I am terribly grateful for this, what do I owe you?"
"Nothing but your presence at our table," Jsut said with her now characteristic booming laugh, "That doctor has done enough for us and I know that we would love to hear all about London."
So Sister Julienne, despite her mild protests, found herself enjoying a slightly chaotic but very friendly meal, where the food was good and the conversation all over the place. She stayed for much longer than she anticipated, and as she finally rose to go, she did not miss the soft kiss that Jsut and Heatys shared as she left the hut.
Sister Julienne pondered this all the way back to London.
She was so lost in her reverie that she hardly spoke a word, mediating on what to think about what she had witnessed. When she stepped up to the Nonnatus House, home at last, she opened the door and found the building to be very much like they had left it. Everyone else followed after her, talking excitedly, though she floated into the parlor and spotted Sister Winifred. The two hugged sparingly.
"Where are Nurse Busby and Nurse Mount?" Sister Julienne asked, mildly surprising herself at the request.
"I think they are cleaning the back room, giving it a good scrub-down," Sister Winifred said thoughtfully, "We didn't know when you would get back precisely."
The older nun wordlessly ambled towards the back room, leaving a bewildered Sister Winifred behind her.
Sister Julienne stood in the doorway of the backroom, the strong scent of bleach sweeping over her, slightly stinging her eyes. She silently observed Patsy and Delia, who seemed oblivious to her presence as they went about their work. Nurse Mount scrubbed at the table top, soap suds trailing up the rubber gloves she wore. Soft music played in the background as Nurse Busby's legs appeared from underneath the sink, some clangs interrupting the record player in the corner. The floor gleamed, newly waxed, and the cabinets appeared freshly painted; or at least thoroughly scrubbed.
The pair continued to speak in gentle tones with each other, and for a moment it was almost as if they were speaking a different language, that only they knew…
Oh wait. They were.
It appeared that Delia was trying to teach Nurse Mount some Welsh. The ginger huffed as she dipped her scrub brush back in the bucket of hot soapy water, her face screwed up in thought at something Delia had said in Welsh.
Nurse Mount began to respond, stumbling over the words, her tongue clearly not familiar with the pronunciation. She heard a soft chuckle emerge from underneath the sink, as the metallic squeak of a wrench on a pipe soon followed suit.
"'Oooh', Pats, there's an 'oooh' in the middle of that word." Delia coached lightly, patiently, "Try again, and don't sound like a bumbling pirate."
The ginger rolled her eyes but acquiesced, now speaking slower with more confidence.
"Much better," Delia approved, her voice slightly muffled.
"Nurse Mount, Nurse Busby," Sister Julienne said gently, not wanting to disturb the serenity of the room. The ginger looked up in mild surprise, a pleasant smile spreading across her face at the sight of the older woman.
"Sister Julienne! It's so good to see you again!" Patsy exclaimed as the brunette wriggled out from underneath the sink. The Welsh woman rubbed her greasy hands in a tattered towel, a smudge of grease on her cheek that contorted as her dimples shown.
"It is nice to be back and see you all in good health," Sister Julienne said in her down-to-earth voice, "However, I must ask you, Nurse Busby, why are you mending the sink? Have you not asked Fred to do that?"
Delia and Patsy shared a knowing look before Patsy said sadly, "Fred has been suffering from angina lately, and Delia figured she could fix it up without bothering him."
"I see," Sister Julienne said softly, feeling deep sorrow for the handy-man, "I shall have to go see him. Have you had success, Nurse Busby?"
Delia airily waved her wrench as she said triumphantly, "I just had to change a rusty connection, I should have it tightened and in tip-top shape soon."
Sister Julienne did not miss the look of adoration Patsy gave the short brunette.
"How was Africa, Sister Julienne?" Delia continued conversationally, frowning slightly at the nun's contemplative look.
Sister Julienne jerked out of her reverie and gazed at the bewildered nurses.
"It…it was very interesting," she said softly, with a gentle smile, "I learned a lot and we helped rebuild a hospital."
"That's absolutely marvelous," Patsy said earnestly.
"Yes," Sister Julienne breathed thoughtfully, "I do not wish to interrupt your wonderful progress; I should go help the others unpack."
"Of course Sister," Delia said pleasantly, Patsy nodding vigorously.
Sister Julienne turned and saw Nurse Crane gazing at her intently, a soft smile on her lips.
"Are they getting on well?" Nurse Crane asked, and for a wild moment Sister Julienne thought the woman was referring to Patsy and Delia's state of relationship. But she then realized she meant their cleaning excursion.
"Yes, I believe so," the nun replied.
Nurse Crane peered past the nun and together they observed the pair continue to work diligently, gentle murmurs floating out of the room.
And Sister Julienne glanced at the other woman and they both KNEW, as wary smiles touched their lips and they sighed softly, standing there in silence, watching the disguised displays of love unfolding in the back room.