Selena Kitt - Grace

Marty had tried to explain it, Leah remembered, how they became slowly indoctrinated-brainwashed was more like it, Leah thought-becoming connected as sisters, unwilling to tell their shocking, outlandish secret to the world, not only out of fear of retaliation from the church, but out of fear of compromising their sisters as well. And of course, there was incentive to stay. The virginal Marys were special and “taken care of” for the rest of their lives by the church. They and their families would want for nothing. The Magdalenes received a one-time payment of ten thousand dollars when they gave up their baby for adoption.

And of course, that worked out well for the maternity homes like Leah had been forced into. There were hundreds, if not thousands of places like Magdalene House all over the world, where Magdalene babies were born and then adopted out to infertile but rich Catholic couples who were willing to give a large donation to the church in exchange for a healthy newborn.

Marty had managed to cut ties with the Magdalenes. She’d found a way out, giving up the money she would have received from the church, initiating a secret correspondence and eventually going halfway across the world to enter into an arranged marriage in order to keep her baby.

Leah didn’t know where Marty was, didn’t have a forwarding address. She didn’t know where any of them were. They were the girls she would have asked to stand up in her wedding. They would have understood the bittersweet moment, marrying the man she loved while her baby was still out there, somewhere. They knew her more deeply than anyone, and she had never even known their real names.

All of the girls at Magdalene House had adopted fake names, and when their babies were adopted, they disappeared into the world, back to their homes, moving like shadows through their former lives, changed forever, immeasurably, but no one knew it, except those girls who had gone through it with them, whose names they never knew.

“Leah!”

She turned toward the sound of her name, hoping Erica had arrived, but it was Leah’s mother instead, stepping smiling off the elevator. Leah felt the knot in her stomach cinch a little tighter, and she instantly regretted her decision to let her mother take part in this process. She should have hardened her heart-she’d been taught by the best, after all-but it had been Donald Highbrow who had elicited Leah’s sympathy, who had softened her to this woman who had given birth to her.

“Your mother?” the saleswoman surmised and Leah nodded, although she knew it was an easy guess. They looked so much alike, they were often mistaken for sisters.

“Hi Mom.”

“Sorry, I got caught up at coat check on the mezzanine talking to Gertie Webber from the Ladies Auxiliary.” Leah’s mother smiled, holding her white-gloved hand out to the saleswoman, and they shook hands and shared a look Leah understood and resented. The grown-ups were here, so they could start now.

“Patty Wendt,” Leah’s mother introduced herself, pulling her gloves off one finger at a time.

“Irene Showalter.”

“Showalter. Any relation to Ruby Showalter?”

Irene nodded. “My mother.”

“I thought I saw a resemblance. I went to school with Ruby Showalter. How is she?”

“She’s passed on, ma’am,” Irene informed her.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Leah’s mother patted the girl on the shoulder. “How awful to lose your mother so young.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Irene glanced toward the elevator. “Are you expecting anyone else?”

“My maid of honor.”

Leah’s mother smiled. “She’s obviously running a little late.”

“Well I can start showing you some dresses,” Irene said. “Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?”

Only a lifetime of them, Leah thought, staring at the rows of white satin.

“Something with a high collar, lots of lace, a full veil,” Patty said, glancing at her daughter. “You do want a full veil don’t you, Leah?”

Leah blinked at her. “Umm…”

But they were already off and running, Irene leading them into the back where there were even more dresses, showing her mother a Scarlett O’Hara affair with so much tiered lace it looked as if the dress could stand up by itself.

“Eighty yards of lace.” Irene whispered this revelation as if it would shock them.

“How about this one?” Leah pulled one of the dresses out on its hanger, surprised by how heavy it was-a gorgeous white satin concoction, sleeveless with a sweetheart bodice.

“Oh Leah, sleeveless?” Patty Wendt made a face. “Besides, you can’t be thinking of white?”

Leah blinked at her in disbelief. “Well, Mother, you’re one to talk.”

“I just meant…” Patty sank down onto one of the cushioned benches.

“Why don’t I let you two look around for a while?” Irene said, taking a step back. “I think I hear the phone ringing…”

“I’m sorry, Leah,” her mother apologized. “I didn’t mean… I just…”

“Mother, this is my wedding. Don’t make me regret asking you to come here today.”

“I know that. I’m sorry. You’re right,” she said, holding up her hands, palms out in supplication. “I just thought, you know, since you’ve already given birth, you might want something a little more reserved in off-white or cream? They have some lovely bridal yellows now…”

Leah shoved the dress back in the mix, snagging the hanger on the rod. “I’m wearing white, and you’re not going to shame me out of it.”

“Oh Leah, I wasn’t trying to shame you.”

“Yes you were.” Leah flipped through the dresses on hangers, not really seeing anything except white. White, white and more white. A color that she wasn’t allowed to wear anymore apparently. She was too tainted. Damaged goods.

“I’m really sorry,” her mother insisted, pleading. “Can we start over?”

Leah looked at her, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. I was kind of hoping we could, but it isn’t starting out that way, is it?”

Her mother sighed. “I really am sorry.”

“Sorry is nice, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Patty Wendt threw up her hands in disgust. “What would you like from me?”

“Honesty.”

“I thought I was being honest.”

“Right.” Leah scoffed. “You’re only honest when you can use it on someone else as an excuse to be cruel. How about trying some honesty about yourself on for size?”

Leah’s mother glanced around, smoothing her skirt, picking imaginary lint off the black material. “What do you want to know?”

“Who is my father?” Leah just plunged ahead, not caring who overheard, whether it was Irene the salesgirl or the other bride and her bevy of bridesmaids.

“I don’t know.” Leah’s mother said this with no hesitation, lifting her chin and looking at her daughter.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Leah scowled. “For years I thought my father was a sailor named Victor Wendt who died in some accident out at sea. But it turns out that was a lie. You were never even married.”

Leah’s mother nodded, her weary eyes closing, resting her forehead against her hand. “I’m sorry I lied to you, Leah, but you have to understand, a girl in my position couldn’t be unmarried with a baby. It would have been far too scandalous. I couldn’t have held my head up anywhere in town.”

“And then you lied again and told me Robert Nolan was my father,” Leah reminded her.

“Leah, you have to understand, I really believed…” Her mother lifted her head, pleading at her with her eyes. “I didn’t know he wasn’t. I truly didn’t know.”

“Well, considering blood tests have completely ruled him out as my father, I guess you have some explaining to do. How many other men could it be, Mother?”