“My name is Sister Mary Catherine. I am responsible for this home.” She folded her arms, her hands disappearing into the opposite sleeves of her habit. “And you are?”
Gabriel placed the two baskets on the worn wooden floor that faded into a dull white in places. He introduced Charlotte, who handed the Sister the box she held, and then introduced himself.
“We have food to donate and”—he reached into the pocket of his trousers—“and this.” His handful of coins moved Sister Mary Catherine’s arms rapidly from their hiding place. Gabriel placed the money into her outstretched hands. “It is a small amount, but—”
“Monsieur Gabriel, we appreciate whatever God provides us.” Sister reached for the baskets. “I will take these to Sister Josephine to empty into the pantry.” She smiled. “Then I will return your baskets for you to fill again. Do you have time for me to show you around?”
Gabriel turned to Lottie. “Yes. A quick tour would be fine,” she said.
“Wait here while I find Sister, and then I will come back so we can begin.” Sister Mary Catherine walked down the long hall underneath a gallery of religious pictures. The home smelled of bread and cinnamon with a touch of little boy.
“You did not tell me about the lagniappe.” Free of her box, Lottie slipped her bonnet under her arm and pulled off her gloves. Their color was a deeper version of the violet flowers in her dress. “If I had known you were bringing something extra, especially money, I would have contributed.”
Her tone confused him. Was she annoyed? “I didn’t know I needed to tell you.”
Lottie brought the gloves to her forehead, about to blot the perspiration that glittered there. Then, as if she’d heard an inner voice of reprimand, she frowned and, with one bare hand, wiped her forehead and then patted her dark hair. She sighed, bit her bottom lip, and looked down. “You did not have to tell me. How would you have, anyway?”
Sister Mary Catherine called out from beyond the foyer, “I am almost there.”
Lottie barely lifted her head and said, “I forget that everyone does not hold me to Grand-mère’s standard.”
* * * * *
“Bless you for coming here today,” said Sister Mary Catherine as she walked them out. “I am certain the boys were surely pleased to have someone who did not tire so easily. Not to mention making any attempts to do much more than walk in this.” She held out her black habit.
“I do understand that,” said Lottie as she looked down at her own gown. “Were women not meant to run?”
“Clothes came with the fall, but their design with man. So it seems like we could but cannot. That did not answer your question, but you entertained them by reading fables. Your audience was enthralled.”
Lottie laughed. “It is kind of you to say so. The boys might have been enthralled and sleepy after Gabriel ran their legs off.”
“Some of these children have not had the experience of an adult reading to them. Sadly, for a few of them, their parents were forbidden to learn, because an educated slave is a dangerous slave. If uneducated people are necessary to carry out slave owners’ plans, the problem is with the plans, not with the people.” Sister’s voice was low, but her passion was high. She held Lottie’s arm. “We were so close to changing that. Maybe only a few people at a time. But Sister Anna has been ill, and we could no longer continue.”
“Are you talking about teaching slaves to read and write?” Lottie said in a lowered voice. “Sister, what a courageous act.”
Sister turned the thumb-worn beads of her rosary. “It’s been a terrible disappointment to us all to stop.”
Gabriel saw the answer rise like the sun in Lottie’s eyes, and he knew she had just adopted a mission. “Lottie, I’m not sure that is a risk you need to be taking.”
“You’re not sure of my risk? You do not need to be.” She shifted her attention to Sister. “I could do this for you.”
“The question is not that you could. The question is whether you should. Jail, Lottie. You might be prepared to spend a year in jail, but are your grandparents ready for you to?” Gabriel hoped he could convince her, but he prepared himself for the inevitable—teaching at the orphanage.
“Please, I did not mean for you to take up the cause. It is not something you should decide so suddenly. You could be placing your grandparents at risk. Pray about this,” Sister urged.
“Sister, I understand that you want to be cautious. But this is something I want to do. I can teach on Sundays after our regular visits.”