Photo credit: Messer-Turner-Bates (look at her great work on Tumblr!)

(Go ahead and yell at me. I realize how self-serving this is. Grandma made me do it.)

The Poplar Community Center hummed with activity as nurses and nuns transformed it into it’s Tuesday purpose: Mother and Baby Clinic.  Angela Turner was in her usual place, right in the middle of things, just the way she liked it. Her pram, in its place next to the in-take desk, gave her a clear view of all the activity in the room while allowing her to keep her eye on her mother at all times.

“It’s quite sweet, really,” Sister Winifred said. The young nun turned to Shelagh Turner, busy organizing the patient files into proper order. “I can tell exactly where you are, just by watching her eyes!”

Shelagh laughed, and stepped over to her daughter’s side. “We always know where the other is, don’t we, Angel Girl?” She ran her hand gently over the silky hair. “We keep an eye out for each other.”

A loud rumbling came from the entrance, and the doors to the community room burst open.

“That Fred Buckle had better make sure he steers clear of me for the rest of the week, that’s all I have to say,” huffed Sister Evangelina, her arms swinging briskly back and forth as she made her way into the room.

“Yes, Sister,” appeased Sister Julienne. “But even you must concede that Fred certainly had little to do with the state of the roads.”

“That’s as may be, but he is responsible for the state of my tires. My bones will never forgive him for the shake up I’ve suffered today.” Despite her words, the crotchety nun’s mood was softening. “Angela Turner!” she cooed, walking gingerly over to the pram. “Mrs. Turner, you’ve brought exactly the right cure for my lumbago!”

Reaching for the smiling infant, she was interrupted.

“I’m sorry, Sister. But I’m afraid I must pull rank.” Sister Julienne, usually the epitome of harmony and peace, edged in front of Sister Evangelina. Her reward for such surprisingly rude behavior  was a delighted giggle as Angela turned and reached for her favorite person outside of the family.

“Yes, Angel Girl,” Sister Julienne murmured. Lifting the clinic’s darling up from her pram, the nun held her in a close cuddle. Angela laughed again, her little hand patting at the starched white cloth covering the Sister’s head.

Shelagh chuckled, “You’ll spoil her, Sister. You shouldn’t let her manhandle your wimple.”

“That’s not possible, Shelagh. You can never spoil a child with love.” Angela’s attention turned to the long cord holding the nun’s plain wooden cross. “Do you like my cross, little girl?”

Angela gurgled, tugging at the cord.

“And look at you, so pretty in your yellow dress. You know, Shelagh, I think I like her best in yellow. With those lovely big eyes, it suits her perfectly.”

Angela laughed again, her arms bouncing with delight. “You like yellow, too, my dear? Well, why wouldn’t you? Yes, yes, my dear, flap your little wings. Flap them, yes, there you go.” Sister Julienne laughed, not caring if she looked the least bit silly.

Shelagh smiled proudly as she watched the two play. Angela was such a happy baby, and never more than when she was the certain of someone’s attention.

Sister Evangelina, however, had had enough. “Really, Sister. You can’t spoil a child with love, but you can certainly monopolize her. How on earth is the poor little thing ever going to get to know anyone else with you around?”

An expression that can only be referred to as slightly smug crossed Sister Julienne’s features. “I am so very sorry, Sister. I know it must seem so to you, but how can I possibly be held responsible if the child prefers me?” Sister Evangelina now forgotten, she continued, “Yes, little one, flap your arms. Aren’t you just the prettiest little bird? Aren’t you just the prettiest little yellow bird?”