Time Drifters

Aureliano had promised everyone a preview of his performance and he knew how to begin it with a dramatic entrance. I’d been useless when it came to helping with a real bow tie, so Caelen took over and did the same for Isaac, while I was sent to assemble everyone at the foot of the stairs that lead to the front foyer.

The Monsignor was having difficulty as we took control of our own affairs, but he agreed to the meeting on the condition that prayers should be said early since he would be away for most of the evening. Renatta assured him that our own work would continue at the asylum, so a brief moment of entertainment would not lead us all on the slippery slope towards damnation… something with which he seemed perpetually preoccupied.

It was charming to see that Aureliano had his own impact on Isaac. It was a jilted introduction, and the words were unintelligible, given that Isaac couldn’t hear what he was supposed to say let alone repeat them, but Isaac surprised everyone when he appeared in a fancy tuxedo-like suit, looking civilized and even proud. He strode to the landing at the top of the steps, sweeping his arms to draw attention to his own arrival, and then proceeded to bow while we applauded. I could see Aureliano on the second floor, coaching him in the choreography, encouraging Isaac to make the final introduction.

Isaac stepped back and then flung his arms towards Aureliano as though he were pitching the last slop of water out of a bucket. Aureliano practically jumped into place, beaming in the glory of having an audience. He was made to perform and looked so comfortable in the attire of a proper gentleman of the day. His smile froze when he saw Capucine and he immediately announced her own entrance into the foyer, as we all turned to see her step forward.

Gwendolyn had designated herself to help Capucine and I hardly recognized her. The children gasped and the littlest children ran to try and touch the chiffon layer that cascaded over her yellow dress. She looked to be the perfect princess. Her hair hung loose in soft ringlets, no longer pulled back tightly and restrained under a full bonnet. And the delicate lace and ornamentations framed her beaming face.

I was amazed at the idea that Capucine Marmiche was 14 years old and an orphan who toiled in an asylum, because I would have imagined her to be a young lady from a wealthy family.

“Beware of vanity, children,” the Monsignor cautioned. “That we may admire beauty in the world, but not imagine that we are the source of it.”

“A fitting introduction to the song that I will sing for you from this evening’s selections,” Aureliano proclaimed, drawing the attention back to himself. “Un di, felice, eterea, meaning, ‘One Day, Happy and Ethereal,’ something that I certainly am reminded of as I see our cherished Capucine. A duet between Alfredo and Violetta, and, in the absence of a partner, I shall sing it… with Isaac’s help.”

There was a surge of giggles amongst everyone, as Aureliano presented his hand and Isaac took it, feigning a girlish curtsy.

“La Traviata, meaning the Woman Who Has Gone Astray,” Aureliano began, pointedly looking at no one as he said that, “is not so much for children, but since no one seems to speak Italian and the musical sensors are not in attendance, I see no harm.”

“What do you say?” the Monsignor asked, looking more than outraged.

“The Contessa assured me that everyone had been exposed to far more in Don Giovani,” he said dismissively, “And what some would think of as a questionably immoral plot will not so much as ruffle a corsage this evening.”

Before the Monsignor could explode, Aureliano broke into the song and it felt like the vibration of the house was being softened and smoothed, cajoled and mesmerized. Aureliano grabbed Isaac’s hand and, when it came time for him to switch roles, he swung Isaac around, exchanging places with him. This was quite hilarious and Isaac was getting as much attention for his adept mimicking as Aureliano was for his booming song.

With applause and bows, Aureliano helped Isaac down the stairs in time for prayers.

“Hope he doesn’t trip on that fourth one,” Thomas said to me while we watched them descending. “I couldn’t get the nails through the knots in the wood. It’s almost surprising the landing held both of them at the same time.”

“You like the book of John, I believe,” Aureliano said, addressing the Monsignor, who had just confirmed that the carriages had arrived.

“It is one of my favorites,” Monsignor said, taken aback.

“I thought so, since you quoted it to us previously,” Aureliano said, holding up the book in his hand and revealing it was a Bible. “So, if I may?”

“Humbly, as is appropriate,” the Monsignor nodded grimly.

“My friend asked if I were nervous… afraid,” Aureliano said, looking to me and then to the children gazing at him as if he were an angel descended from a painting. “And in John 4:18, we are told, ‘There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear, because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”

Aureliano’s eyes had drifted to Capucine twice, holding her gaze at the end.

“And we give thanks for the kindness and the charity of our Lord and Saviour,” Monsignor continued, “Who inspires those amongst us to share with we who are less fortunate, we who sin by thought and deed each day and seek repentance and forgiveness for ourselves and for all evil in this world. And now let us pray in the words of our Father…”

The mood was subdued for another moment, but the opening of the doors and the appearance of two fine carriages made the children, and us, impossibly happy. Thomas and Barkley escorted Capucine down the steps and to the carriage.

“You look so beautiful,” I said, adding my compliments to the shower of good wishes everyone was saying. Capucine gave me a long, expectant look.

“Tonight, I promise,” I said. She nodded.

Barkley ran past us on the way into the house and I knew where he was headed. Aureliano’s singing hadn’t just been for fun and games. It was part of our plan to ensure that we had Sister Vellena and everyone preoccupied while Rufus had access to search Isaac’s room without even Capucine knowing about it. We had the books safely hidden, but the Sister had moved something into the house, and we generally agreed that it was likely some or all of the Post.

By the time I made it to the kitchen with Calico, I was shocked to see Sister Vellena facing off with Barkley—or possibly Rufus? She must have peeled away during the excitement with the carriages. The door to Isaac’s room was open, but I had no idea if this was Rufus on his way out, or Barkley trying to make his way in.

“I don’t want to delay any longer,” Sister Vellena said with somber resignation. “There is something I must say, but I need to know that you all are in agreement. The other sisters are looking after the children, so please bring your friends, here.”

Barkley—and I was pretty sure it was him—nodded, indicating that he was staying in place, so Calico and I ran back and told Renatta and the others that Sister Vellena wanted to see all of us. We cautiously gathered, finding the Sister sitting at the butcher’s block with a mug of water in front of her.

“You wanted to tell us something?” Renatta said, after an uncomfortable moment of quiet. The ticking of a pendulum clock on the wall by the entrance seemed to make it clear that we were all gathered to discuss Time, and that Time was counting down itself in preparation for this face off.

“Did you know that this land was originally settled by the French?” Sister Vellena said eyeing the cup. “And then it went to the Spanish, and returned to the French, only to be sold by Napoleon to America for taxes.”

“A history lesson?” Gwendolyn said. “That’s what this is about? Do you think we really need this?”

“Yes!” Sister Vellena yelled, slamming her hand down on the table and standing, sending her stool tumbling to the ground. “Yes, Gwendolyn Whitehall. I do!”

We all froze in place, completely stunned. Sister Vellena’s eyes darted to each of our faces, but her lip began to tremble and her head started to shake. She braced herself on the tabletop and crumpled, her head hung down.

“Forgive me,” she said, repeating herself again and again. “You have no idea how difficult this is for me. How it goes against everything that I have believed and everything that I’ve fought for. To justify and defend what I know is right, even as others curse it as unholy.”

I could feel how upset she was and I felt a twinge of sympathy since I knew how tough it was to know one thing and have others deny it.

“I have fought to ensure that battles were won,” she said, raising herself, grimacing. “That allegiances were forged, lives saved from calamity and disease, buildings rebuilt, and on and on. All so, the idea that this land could be sold… for taxes.

“I have fought for you, for longer than any of you have lived,” she said, looking around. “So when I saw that I would not have any connection to this calling for thirty years, I prayed to be shown a sign. And then you came.”

She picked up the stool and sat again, looking straight at me.

“I was so hurt when you took my books,” she said, a surprising smile lighting up her face. “But when I prayed for guidance, I realized the response just as Aureliano was singing and you were all so caring. That it is vain and wrong in God’s eyes to hold so much power, to have so much information which is not truly mine alone to hold.”

We began to exchange looks amongst us. I thought it sounded right, but Francesca and Caelen were still frowning.

“I tried to share this with Capucine, but she is afraid,” Sister Vellena said, sounding more urgent. “She only knows how to Drift. I know that you care about her, but I have this dilemma. I strongly suspect that she has hidden things from me.”

“You did,” Calico said.

“Oh, that,” she said, rising and stepping through the door into Isaac’s room. “Yes, it’s some of the Post, but not all of it.”

She returned and plunked a folio onto the table in front of us. Renatta was the closest and her eyes were wide as saucers as Sister Vellena pulled back the velvet cloth and then undid a satin tie that bound it all.

“Look,” Sister Vellena said. “Here is a letter from two years ago that is addressed to Walker, Senior at Wyoming Station, calling him back to 1780. But that station does not exist yet. And a few more of your names are here…”

“Do not!” cautioned Renatta.

“You see?” she continued. “How dangerous it is? It is why I need your help. So I can copy these and know that they will be safe. So that you are safe and the everlasting is preserved… as God wishes it to be.”

“We cannot look at those,” Renatta said. “What would you have us do?”

“Capucine has used the stones at the back of the room to hide things,” she said, rising and strolling back into Isaac’s room. “These ones,” she added.

Barkley was the first to go inside, and I followed, curious to see what she was pointing at.

“Isaac can help her to move them,” she continued, “but they are too heavy for me to lift, and I have not much time to search. As much as I would have liked the other books to be returned, I understand your caution. And I think this is a greater priority to find the rest of the Post, if we can.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Barkley said, poking at the dirt between two large fieldstones. “If you can leave us to it, for a bit.”

“I would feel so relieved,” Sister Vellena said. “Bless you. Bless you all.”

She made the sign of the cross and Caelen crossed himself as well. Thomas looked the most cautious.

“I can go and search for some proper tools,” Thomas said.

“I will,” Sister Vellena assured. “It is easier than to tell you where these are.”

She rushed back through us, muttering blessings again. The Post remained in a pile on the kitchen block. Francesca went to reach for it.

“No!” Renatta said.

“Worried I’m going to turn into a pillar of salt?” Francesca asked. “She just left it here.”

“I don’t buy it,” Thomas said. “But then, I never liked nuns very much.”

“Ow!” said Rufus, emerging from the corner, spitting out dirt from his mouth, while unfurling himself from a dirty blanket like a confounded matador. “Did ya have to trample me to death?”

“I had to get out of the way,” Barkley said, defensively. “She was going to see you any second.”

“Come on,” Caelen said, striding towards the stones. “If we find something before she returns we might be able to hide it for ourselves.”

We began by pulling back the cot and chair that Isaac had pushed against the back wall and then shuffled into a line to dig so that dirt and moving stones wouldn’t crush anyone. We still had some light coming in from a small grated window that was tucked in next to a storm door with steps leading up to it. I’d seen the raised mound of earth piled up to the back of the house, and I’d wondered when was the last time it had been used for deliveries.

With grunting and chatter, and the thudding noise of river stones hitting the dirt floor, it was odd that we all seemed to hear it at the same time—the dull clicking sound of the latch on the door, closing us all inside.