Orphan in Limbo

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After the couple catnapped on the king-sized bed in their bedroom for a handful of hours, the afternoon flew as quickly as an arrow, whereas the night hours knocked on the door. Hence, they got from the bed as Jude was brushing her unkempt, ruffled ringlet of honey curls, while Timothy was with her in the same room. 

"Timothy, I have no intentions of leaving our love child to root in a mental institution!" The middle-aged woman declared by brushing her hair with a brush as she seated before the dressing table and contemplated her own reflection. "Tomorrow we will flee for Boston, no matter how risky are circumstances to get her out." She furthered, seconds before adjusting the hair brush on the dressing table.

"I know, rare bird. She doesn't belongs here." The former priest ambled up to Jude by placing his mammoth hands on top of her shoulders, squeezing them as his fingers kneaded its cotton fabric beneath his long, dexterious fingers.

"Indeed! I don't know why they treat her coarsely without even knowing her story of her life." The former sister of the church muttered as the former man of the cloth pecked a soft kiss on the top of her head. "It's alook like arresting the wrong person and enquiring him over something in which he shouldn't be charged with."

"Definitely!" Then he moved one of his hands from her shoulders up to her ringlet of golden curls, tucking a couple of glossy honey strands behind her small ear. "It's unfair to judge someone by its book cover."

"Don't they know in Briarcliff she's our daughter," She swallowed a lump in her throat, by throwiing back her head by staring up at Timothy's youthful, handsome face. "I mean, our love child?" The blonde stammered as its heartache overtook her all over again when she mentioned the emphasized word love child. 

"They might know though we no longer work in this snake pit anymore,for our luck's sake!"

"I wasn't even ready to have a baby when I was a nun. Even as a young woman."

"I wasn't neither, rare bird! When we lied it wasn't our child and it was one of the criminally insane, the things got even worse. The lies didn't rescue us at all." The younger man responded in honeyed, beyond ashamed voice as he leaned by peppering feather, ardent kisses on her neck with his soft lips as she relished the moment by arching her neck, giving him a better access to her silken, white like vanilla neck.

***

Flashback

June 1942

25 years old Sister Jude was sitting in her office in the recently bought mental hospital by the Roman Catholic church. She has served God and its celibate life for 3 years when Timothy arrived 2 years ago and has chosen her as his right hand, besides they had coq-au-vin dinners every Friday night. He was actually slightly younger than her with a year though what it struck her first about him was his indisputable charisma, neat and handsome appearance, his decent, honeyed British accent which accentuated on his speech.

Since the young monsignor's arrival in the nuthouse, Jude and Timothy developed their relationship not only via the Friday night's dinners and long, logical discussions they shared together as a piece of memory, further they collaborated and shared similar views and spectacular, cunning ideas for improving the facility's role in saving wretched souls. Wretched souls, who have lost the light they were once granted to God and they have already lost its his divine tracks for peace and harmony. Wretched souls, who are already doomed in the darkness, destined to spend the rest of their days in a mental hospital, due to their deeds.

Even Timothy proved himself as a bashful, nevertheless considerate, loving, caring, intelligent, selfless and hardworking man with unarguable handsomeness which Jude hung the moon.