Sister Hilda stares blankly at her water glass as the other members trickle into the table. They all carry on conversations as they find their seats. Trixie situates herself at Sister Hilda's elbow. Sister Julienne clears her throat, and garners the crowd's attention.

"Before we say grace I want to discuss the rotation with everyone."

"Ugh," Sister Frances groans, "I thought we finally got it ironed out."

"I am making a few last minute changes. If anyone has concern, or disagreement you can direct it at me," Sister Julienne responds.

Sister Hilda glances in her direction. She clears her throat, "I don't think it is fair to ask them such an inconvenience without offering an explanation."

Sister Julienne nods, "Sister Hilda will be taking leave from her midwifery duties at this time."

Phyllis arches an eyebrow, "Are you returning to the mother house?"

"She is not," Sister Julienne insists.

"I have been advised by doctor's orders to take a leave from my duties."

Lucille speaks up, "If you have been given medical advice to take a leave that is cause for concern."

"Perhaps it is best we table this conversation for now," Sister Julienne advises.

"I cannot live here day in, and day out and avoid this conversation much longer. In honesty I am not sure how I have avoided it thus far."

Sister Monica Joan addresses the group, "What my fellow Sisters are struggling to explain is that for some time past, and time marked into the future Sister Hilda is playing host organism in a state of symbiosis. To be clear vows were not broken, though faith in humanity has been notably disrupted. Patience, and understanding are required of all of us in the coming days."

Not a single sound is elicited from a single one of them.


As night comes dreams nor slumber do for Sister Hilda. A gentle knock on the door drags her racing cyclical thoughts into reality.

"You may enter."

Phyllis materializes in the doorway. She hugs an oversized pillow with a custom sewn case.

"As you know my back is a victim to time, and physical deterioration."

"I recall."

"Anyway, some time ago I perfected a pillow with the necessary lumbar support to mollify aches and pains long enough to enter a state of slumber. This evening when I happened by the haberdashery I noticed Violet was running a deal on this fabric. Unfortunately for her, but not for us, this remnant was subjected to sunlight in storage. There is a bit of fading, which is totally inconsequential for a pillow. These beds leave quite a bit to be desired in terms of support. I made this one for you."

"It is much appreciated."

"Sister, whatever the future holds we are all here for you."


For someone who has spent her entire adult life in the service of others sedentary matters prove painstaking. Day three of her confinement Sister Hilda finds herself reorganizing the medication cabinet by group. When she turns around from labeling the shelf she is quite dismayed to find Shelagh standing nearby.

"My apologies I didn't hear you come in."

"I was surprised that you weren't at clinic today. As it is your day according to the schedule. Sister Frances mentioned that you were unavailable. I inquired if you were ill. Her cheeks grew to the color of stewed tomato, and she scurried off to an expectant mother without another word."

"Sister Frances avoids conflict like most people avoid the plague."

Shelagh offers a subtle nod, "It would seem everyone was avoiding the topic. I find it deeply troubling. Even Patrick seemed too busy to answer my direct line of questioning."

"No need to be troubled."

"My instincts say otherwise. The fact that your body language is completely incongruent with your statement gives me pause. In fact I was in the middle of clinic when I realized how many things have been out of place with you as of late. The more I poured over my recollections the more I struggled to arrive at logical conclusions. Unfortunately my logical conclusions are not at all in line with someone who is deeply faithful to the religious vows they have taken."

Sister Hilda doesn't respond. In fact she completely avoids eye contact all together. She rearranges bottles of magnesium citrate, and bismuth.

"The last delivery at the maternity home that I assisted you with the lady who presented with a frank breech baby I noticed your center of balance seemed off. A few weeks ago at the end of clinic you mentioned a backache, which I didn't lend much thought to since they are certainly not an uncommon occurrence in our line of work. Except I can't remember any other time you have complained about your back, or anything else ailing you for that matter. My thoughts for some reason tumbled onto the heat wave we suffered, and how I saw you retching into the bushes in the garden outside on your way back to Nonnatus. Singularly none of them really seem related, or troubling. Today as all of my friends, colleagues, and even my spouse refused to speak on your absence there was only one conclusion I could draw. I curse myself for not noticing how someone who would join me in song in the nursery rocking newborns had suddenly drawn silent. I regret I was too caught up to be present when the first one to offer a cheeky remark after a particularly draining day seemed to fade into the background."

Sister Hilda exhales, but she does not meet Shelagh's glance, "Silence is a specialty of mine."

"No one should have to suffer in silence."

"Some suffering does not need shared."

"I just came over here for you to tell me that I am off base. I had hoped, maybe even prayed that a bout of gastroenteritis, or a debilitating migraine rendered you incapable of performing your duties today."

"I most certainly will affirm those beliefs if you prefer."

Shelagh does not affirm. Instead she wraps her arms around Sister Hilda and envelopes her into a hug. As she releases her one hand lingers.