Seacliff

Chapter twenty-four: Sister Quinn

1919

Saoirse had seen too much death to put her faith in any promises, especially those made by someone she barely knew, like Sorley. She soldiered on, alone as ever, reawakening her Sister Quinn persona to the fullest in her work with Dr Mortimer.

"Yer whinin' like a babe, O'Donnell," Saoirse scolded one of her patients as she tended to his stump. "Better be grateful ye've still got yer best leg of three."

The small coastal town and surrounding villages housed many a grumpy war veteran who needed care and some sense slapped into them. Shut off from their families who couldn't understand the horrors they'd experienced. Disdaining the young doctor for his 'reserved occupation'.

O'Donnell huffed. "What good is it to me," he grumbled, scratching at his skin before Saoirse began to attach his wooden calf back on, "if I've only two left?"

Saoirse built bonds and bridges, speaking their own language, resonating with their wounds and suffering. Even those who started out mocking her would end up respecting Sister Saw.

She grinned up from fastening O'Donnell's artificial limb. "Why not let the missus on top for a change?"

The man reddened like a lobster from neck to hairline.

"All right, yer all set." Saoirse handed him his crutch and helped him to his feet. "Give it a try, eh?" She tapped his shoulder, winking. "Thank me later."

Then there were the newly-married couples and expectant mothers who preferred a fellow woman's touch. It amazed Saoirse with every visit how life had resumed its course after so much chaos.

"Ready?" James asked, standing up from tea with Mrs O'Donnell.

"Yes. You?"

New babes were being born into the world and the broken men who'd helped safeguard it were being left behind. She threaded her existence between these two extremes, often wondering how long this hard-won peace would last.

The war might have been over, but so much tension still prevailed. So much pain festered under the rug of propriety. And the flu had wreaked havoc, too. The world was left in pieces, fuming. Restless. Looking for someone to blame.

Saoirse sensed a chill in the air and shivered. James noticed as he was putting on his coat.

"Are you all right?" He helped her into hers.

Saoirse buttoned up. "Yes, fine."

"Are you sure? You... seem a bit out of sorts."

Saoirse hefted her postman's bag on her shoulder.

"Perhaps you ought to take a break," James suggested.

They bid their adieus to Mr and Mrs O'Donnell and passed through the front hall. A miasma permeated the air, garlic from the kitchen stinging Saoirse's nostrils as they exited the house. It heightened the nausea she'd been fending off all day, making her feel faint. Outside, she sucked in the sea-infused breeze and exhaled a cloud of steam.

"The way you've thrown yourself into your work," the doctor added, privately, "is not good for you, Saoirse. Take some time to rest, please."

She would have contradicted him if she hadn't had to contend with a sudden bout of dizziness at the same time.

"I agree," she sighed in the end.

"Come." James took her bag from her. "I shall drive you home."

She took the proffered arm and let him help her up on the car. A keen driver herself, Saoirse normally enjoyed even sitting on the passenger's seat. But James had been right. Her overexertion was taking its toll and the landscape whizzing past made her queasy. She had to keep her eyes shut the whole way.

The wet gravel crunched and creaked underfoot as he walked her up the driveway to the Lodge. She thanked James and tried to have some tea and biscuits after she saw him off, though they were somehow too sweet and she couldn't stomach them. She did finish her bitter black tea, which gave her enough strength to undress, wash up, and change into her nightgown. Nothing like a nice nap to soothe the soul.

In her dream, the beach was unusually bright. No trace of shade, just blinding sunlight. She had her bathing suit on, the one she'd worn on her honeymoon. Then, akin to ink in an aquarium, a drop of darkness stained the scenery and blocked out the light. Everything became black.

Evil sirens emerged from the waves, dragging her into the depths of the ocean, streaks of her blood clouding the water. The fanged monsters tore at her flesh and she screamed, except the water muffled her pain. At the edge of her consciousness, Saoirse watched herself drown in a glass cage, aware she was just tense and cold in her sleep.

She snapped awake when one of the creatures stabbed her in the stomach and she sat up in bed, clutching her belly. The nausea had subsided, but she still felt tired – more tired than before, in fact. Saoirse decided on a ride to the beach. Take in the harmless view and breathe in the crisp, fresh air.