Read The Judas Rose for Free Online Page A

habits allowed, and Antonia asked her colleague nothing more. The Sisters Of Genesis worked well together—with a few inexplicable exceptions such as Carapace to prove the rule—and they did not waste time.
    Come and see, Sister Ruth had said. Antonia stood now and looked carefully at the room—it was in order—at the birthing bed, which appeared just as it ought to appear, and at the Jefferson woman. She was flushed, of course; as its name indicates, labor is hard work. Her hair was damp, soaked, clinging to her skull; with hard work went copious sweat, and that too was normal. No sign of unusual bleeding; no sign of shock. . . . Sister Antonia turned to look at the other nuns, her eyebrows raised.
    â€œI’m sorry, Sisters,” she said gravely. “I don’t understand why you’ve called me.”
    â€œPlease, Antonia,” said Ruth. “It’s time for another pain—please watch.”
    Antonia nodded, and looked again at the woman on the bed. She saw the great belly gather, clench, and ripple under the force of a major contraction; she must be far advanced, the birth near.
    â€œHow close together?” she demanded.
    â€œLess than a minute now. And good long ones.”
    â€œAnd she’s been like this all along?”
    â€œExactly like this.”
    Antonia waited through one more pain, to be sure, and thenshe went straight out the door to the staircase and pressed the alarm that would bring the Mother Superior at once. Mother would be a bit startled when her wrist computer told her where the alarm was coming from, but that would not delay her.
    â€œDo you think—” Claudia began, but Sister Antonia shook her head, saying, “We’ll wait for Mother, Sisters.”
    Dorothea Luke, Mother Superior of this convent for forty years and a Sister Of Genesis for nearly sixty, reached them in minutes, and when Sister Antonia had explained she did not wait to verify what she was told. “Sister Ruth! Sister Claudia!” she said. “Leave us at once, both of you!”
    They turned startled eyes to her, and she said again only, “At once!”, and they hurried away looking troubled, but without offering either objections or questions. Dorothea Luke closed the door after them, sighing heavily, wishing this were not happening under her roof, and she and Antonia went to the bed where the woman lay. They bent over her together, urgently.
    â€œYou must scream, my child,” said the Mother Superior tenderly. She leaned close, and spoke directly into the young woman’s face, because it would not be easy to get her attention at this stage. “Jane! It’s Mother Dorothea Luke. Sister Antonia and I are here to help you. Listen to me, child—you must scream! For the sake of your immortal soul, my dear child . . . you must .”
    Not a sound. The fierce contractions, almost continuous now, wracked her body, but except for the rough animal panting she was absolutely silent. According to the other nuns, she had not so much as whimpered, in all this time. Not a word of complaint. She should have been shrieking by now, begging for mercy, begging them to free her from her agony, but she was doing nothing of the kind. She was working; she was laboring; but she made no outcry. She was not even weeping. And that would not do. In the Book of Genesis it was decreed: a woman must bring forth her children in sorrow, that she might be cleansed of the guilt of tempting Adam and causing the Fall of all humankind. This woman knew that, must know that; however empty her own faith, she’d spent almost every Sunday morning of her life in a church. There was no chance that she had not heard the verses that applied to her condition.
    â€œ Jane! Jane Jefferson! For your soul’s sake, you must scream! ”
    Nothing! Nothing but the panting; and now the deeper sounds that meant the moment was upon them.
    There was no time for discussion. There was