Rory's Promise

For “Auntie Sis” Sister Norine Estelle Nichols 1916–2013

Text copyright © 2014 by Michaela MacColl and Rosemary Nichols All rights reserved

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, please contact
[email protected].

Although this work centers around historical events, this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the authors' imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual incidents or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Calkins Creek
An Imprint of Highlights
815 Church Street
Honesdale, Pennsylvania 18431
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-62091-623-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014935295
First edition

ISBN 9781629792750 (e-book)

Design by Barbara Grzeslo
Production by Margaret Mosomillo
The text of this book is set in Garamond 3.

Cover Photo Credits:
Train: copyright © Mark Twain Hobby Center, St. Charles, Missouri; girl:
copyright © Shutterstock; night sky: copyright © iStock
Jacket design by Barbara Grzeslo

A
CHILD'S CRY, SH
A
RP AND FE
A
RFUL, ST
A
RTLED
R
ORY
A
WAKE. Her eyes darted about the shadowy dormitory. It was still dark outside; dawn was some hours away. Was it the new boy, Harry? He'd been found under a railroad bridge living on what the rats left, and he often woke with nightmares. But he usually howled. More likely it was Violet, Rory's own sister.

After three years of minding the little kids, Rory didn't throw back the warm covers just yet. Often the orphans would cry once then fall back asleep. She'd wait for a second cry—and then try to silence that one before the other children woke. Rory pulled the covers up around her chin, enjoying the bite of chill on her face. The Sisters of Charity believed a child needed fresh air at night so until All Saints' Day, otherwise known as the first of November, the windows stayed open.

A hand tugged at Rory's blanket. Holding back a sigh, Rory propped herself up on one elbow and looked into
Violet's eyes, bright blue even in the dim light.

“Rory, are you awake?” Violet asked in a lisping whisper. She was five years old to Rory's twelve.

“I am now, you little pest,” Rory answered. Her words might be harsh but she had no worries that Violet's feelings would be hurt. To outsiders, Violet might seem sweet and biddable, but Rory knew how tough she could be.

“I have to pee.”

“Violet, you're five now. You are old enough to pee without my help,” Rory said.

“I'm afraid of the water closet. It's so noisy and I'm scared it will swallow me up!”

“You can pee in the pot and I'll flush it in the morning. That way we won't wake everyone else.” Rory swung her feet off the bed onto the tiled floor. She led Violet by the hand to the brand-new water closet down the hall. It was loud, louder even than the new elevated trains on Third Avenue. Violet squatted on the little pot next to the porcelain toilet. Afterward, Rory dumped the contents into the toilet bowl. Violet slipped her hand into Rory's and the two sisters walked together down the long hall.

When they returned, Rory wasn't surprised to find two other children curled up together on her narrow bed.

“What are you lot doing here?” she demanded, pretending to be fierce. “You're supposed to stay in your own beds.”

There was no answer from the children. They kept their eyes tightly closed and snored impossibly loudly and with a
suspicious regularity.

With a sigh, Rory said, “Hop in, Violet.” She shoved the kids this way and that to make room. On the strength of being Rory's real sister, Violet used her sharp elbows to make sure she had the best spot, curled up in the small of Rory's back. Within a few minutes, Rory had been lulled back to sleep by the genuine snores and quick breaths of the three younger children.

“Rory!” A stern voice woke Rory a second time. “The children are supposed to sleep alone.” Rory opened her eyes and had to put her hand over her eyes to block the sunlight pouring in. Sister Maureen stood at the foot of her bed. Short and plump, she resembled a dumpling in her white working uniform.

“What children?” Rory asked, rubbing her eyes with her fists. In her experience, this made her look younger, less likely to be scolded. She patted the bed. “What are these rascals doing here?” She began to shake the kids awake. “Honest, Sister Maureen, they weren't here when I went to bed last night.”

Sister Maureen shook her head and lifted young Harry out of the bed. “Rory, this is precisely why the older children are moved out of the nursery and into the dormitory. How old are you now?”

The dormitory that Sister Maureen was threatening wasn't too bad. Rory knew the other girls from school and liked them well enough. But the dormitory wouldn't have
Violet, and as far as Rory was concerned, that was the end of the argument. Rory leapt out of bed, dislodging Violet, who almost rolled off the bed onto the spotless tiled floor. Catching Violet just in time, Rory stared at Sister Maureen over her sister's head. “I have to stay with Violet. I promised my Ma.”

The stern look on Sister Maureen's face began to soften. “Besides,” Rory said, pursuing her advantage, “however would you get them all washed and dressed for breakfast if I wasn't here to help?”

Sister Maureen glanced around the long narrow nursery where eighteen beds lined the whitewashed walls. Rory knew exactly what the nun was thinking. Eighteen boys and girls, ages three, four, and five, took a lot of caring for. Usually a Sister and two nurses would be responsible. For the past three years Rory had deliberately carved out a place for herself as an extra caregiver, washer, wiper-upper, hair comber, clothes darner, and the first person the children called in the night. Her position at the Foundling was unique and she fought to keep it every day.

In a cajoling voice, Rory asked, “Please let me help, just a little longer?” She tensed, waiting for an answer. Rory had never once spent a night away from Violet.

“Well …”

“Thanks, Sister,” Rory said happily, shepherding the sleepy children into a line to use the water closet. As she led them out of the nursery, she heard Sister Maureen's
exasperated voice.

“But, Rory, I didn't agree to anything!”

Rory hurried the kids into the hallway. Out of sight was out of Sister Maureen's mind. At least for today, Rory could stay put.