He denied it yet again, and then moved on through the rest of the confession, urging her to say ten Hail Marys and think of her mother lovingly with each of them, and know that her mother loved her. Gabriella didn't argue with him, but realized only that she was a bigger sinner than he knew for hating her mother as much as she did. She couldn't help it.

She said her penance silently with the nuns, and then went back to her room, where Natalie was reading a magazine she had bought on the sly, all about Elvis, while her sister Julie threatened to tell Sister Timmie about it. Gabriella left them to their squabbling and thought about what the priest had said to her in the confessional, and wondered if she would spend eternity in hell because of her hatred for her mother. What she didn't realize, nor did they, was that she had already been in hell for her entire lifetime. Surely had anyone seen what her life had been, she would have been assured a place in heaven.

She slept at the bottom of the bed, as she always did, that night, and in the morning, as they dressed for church, the other two girls teased her about it, but not with any malice. They just commented on how funny it looked when they looked over at her bed and thought no one was in it. That had been the point, of course, though it had never really saved her. But it had long since become a habit.

She went to school with them again that day, and life at St. Matthew's slowly became a routine for her. Living with the nuns and the two other girls, going to church and school with them. She learned their hymns, their ways, the prayers they said morning and night and mid-afternoon, and she fell to her knees on the stone floor in the halls, without even thinking about it, when the church bells rang, just as the nuns did. By mid-May, she knew all of them by name, and the things they liked and did, and she smiled most of the time, and chatted easily at dinner with all of them, and whenever possible she sought Mother Gregoria out, without saying much to her, she just enjoyed being near her.

It was the end of May when the Mother Superior called her into her tiny office. It was odd for Gabriella to see her there, it reminded her of the first day when she had come here with her mother. That seemed so long ago now. It had been six weeks since she'd arrived and Gabriella hadn't had so much as a postcard from her mother. And although she hadn't heard from her, she knew her mother would be home soon.

She wondered if she had done something wrong and was about to be scolded when she stepped into Mother Gregoria's office. Sister Mary Margaret had come to the schoolroom to ask her to come here, and for some reason the request sounded alarmingly official.

“Are you happy here, my child?” Mother Gregoria asked, smiling easily at her. There was something deeply compelling about Gabriella's blue eyes, they belied her years and the innocence one expected to find there. She smiled more openly now, but in spite of it, one sensed a distance between Gabriella and those she still feared might hurt her. Even here, there were times when she was still very guarded. And Mother Gregoria had noticed that she went to confession often, and worried that there were still demons that plagued her, demons she had not shared yet. Gabriella was still extremely private. “Do you feel at home here?”

“Yes, Mother,” Gabriella answered simply, but her eyes were worried. “Is something wrong? Did I do something I shouldn't?” She would rather know immediately what punishment would be meted out to her, for what offense, and how quickly. The anticipation of knowing was terrifying.

“Don't be afraid, Gabbie. You have done nothing wrong. Why are you worried?” There were so many questions she would have liked to ask, but even after six weeks, she did not dare yet. She knew it was still too soon to approach her, and perhaps always would be. She knew that Gabriella was entitled to her private griefs, and secrets, even at her age.

“I was afraid you were angry at me. When Sister Mary Margaret came to get me, she said you wanted to see me in your office, and I thought…”

“I only wanted to talk to you about your mother.” A tremor of fear instantly ran through her. The mere mention of her name filled Gabriella with dread, yet she knew she would see her again soon, and in some ways she missed her. But she had been praying constantly to quell the hatred she felt, and had said countless Hail Marys. She wondered suddenly if the priests who were hearing her confessions had said something to Mother Gregoria about her. The wise old nun saw the shadows darting across the child's face and could only guess at the terrors they represented. “I heard from her yesterday. She called me from California.”

“Is that Reno?”‘

“No.” She smiled. “We're going to have to work on your geography. Reno is in Nevada. California is a different state.”

Gabriella looked confused. “Isn't she supposed to be in Reno?”

“She was in Reno. And now she's divorced, and has gone to California. She said she was in San Francisco.”

“That's where Frank lives,” Gabriella said, by way of explanation. But Mother Gregoria already knew that. It had been rather a lengthy conversation, and she had felt strongly that Eloise should talk to the child herself, but she had been emphatic about wanting the Mother Superior to do it.

“Apparently…” She took a long, slow breath, wanting to choose her words well, and not shock Gabriella unduly. “Apparently, your mother and Frank, whom you seem to know…” She smiled warmly at the child, watching her eyes for signs of suspicion or discomfort, but so far there were none, other than her initial look of terror. “Your mother and Frank are getting married tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Gabriella said, looking at first blank, and then startled. She had never said more than ten words to him, and he had always more or less ignored her. And now her mother was marrying this stranger. And God only knew where her father had disappeared to. She still thought she would hear from him again one day, but it had been a long time now. And she got a sinking feeling when she realized again that she was alone now.

But now came the hard part, the rest of the story the child's mother had entrusted her with telling her only daughter. “They're going to live in San Francisco.” Gabriella felt the briefest stab of disappointment as she heard the words. It meant she would have to leave and go to a place she didn't know. It meant she would have to fight for her life again, and struggle every moment, every hour, every day, for survival. It meant a new school, and new friends, or none at all. And it also meant living with a stranger, and the mother she both feared and hated. And leaving the women she had come to love in the convent.

‘When do I have to go there?” Gabriella asked bluntly, and Mother Gregoria could see that something had died in the child's eyes again. It was the same look she had seen the first time Gabriella had come to her office.

There was another long, silent pause, while the Mother Superior weighed her words carefully, never taking her eyes from Gabriella's. “Your mother thinks you would be happier staying here with us, Gabbie.” It was the kindest way to translate what her mother had really said, about not being able to put up with the child any longer, not wanting to jeopardize her own happiness, or burdening her new husband with a child she herself had never even wanted. She had been brutally frank with Mother Gregoria on the phone, while offering to pay her board there for as long as they would keep her. Forever, possibly, was how Mother Gregoria had interpreted it, and she had not read her incorrectly. Eloise had no plans whatsoever to bring the child to San Francisco, and seemed to have no remorse about it. And when she had inquired about the child's father, and the possibility of Gabriella staying with him, Eloise had assured her that he didn't want her either. Mother Gregoria knew that this was the sorrow she read in the child's eyes, or some of it at least. She herself was well aware that her parents didn't love, or want, her.

“My mother doesn't want me, does she?” Gabriella said bluntly. There were shards of pain in her eyes, and relief, at the same time, which confused the woman who watched her.

“You can't look at it that way, Gabriella. She's confused. She's still very hurt by your father leaving both of you, and now she has a chance for a new life. I think she wants to make sure it's a good one before she brings you to it. That's sensible of her, and although it's hard to be away from her, it's very loving of her to leave you here with people who care about you and want to make you happy.” It was a nice thought, but Gabriella knew it was more complicated than that, and she understood the subtleties better than she should have.

“My parents hated each other, and she says they never loved me.”

“I don't believe that. Do you?” Mother Gregoria said gently, praying that she didn't, but fearing that they had been far too open with her, just as Eloise had been on the phone with the Mother Superior. She had said it in no uncertain terms the day before: “I don't want her with me.” Mother Gregoria would have cut her tongue out before repeating that to Gabriella.

“I think my father used to love me… sort of… he never… he never did anything to…” Her eyes filled with tears remembering all the times he had stood in doorways, watching helplessly, or listened to her screams from the next room while her mother beat her. How could he have loved her? And he had left, hadn't he? He had never looked back, never written, never called. It was hard to believe he still loved her, if he ever had, which for a long time now, she doubted. And now her mother was doing the same thing. She was glad in a way. It meant the beatings would never happen again, she would never have to hide, and pray, and beg, and go to a hospital because she had been beaten so badly, and wait for the moment when her mother would finally kill her. It was over. But it also meant facing all that her mother had never felt for her, and never would. In spite of the nun's gentle words, Gabriella knew that her mother would never come back now. The war was over. But the dream of being loved by her one day, of doing it right, of winning her love at last, died with it.

“She's never coming back, is she?” Gabriella's eyes bore straight into the Mother Superior's, and the child's eyes were so direct and so clear, the question in them so powerful that Mother Gregoria knew she could not lie to her.

“I don't know, Gabriella. I don't think she knows. Maybe she will one day, but maybe not for a long time.” It was as honest as she could be without telling her the whole truth. Essentially, she had been abandoned by both her parents, and no matter what Mother Gregoria said now, Gabriella knew it.

“I don't think she's ever coming back… just like my father. My mother said he's going to be married to someone else, and he has new children.”

“That won't make him love you less.” But there was no denying he had never contacted her, and she suspected that Eloise wouldn't be in touch with Gabriella either. They were despicable people, and it was hard to understand how they could abandon a child like this one. But Mother Gregoria knew it happened, she had seen it. She had cried over children like Gabriella before. She was only very glad that they could be there for her. And perhaps this was God's way of making His wishes known. Perhaps her place was here with them, perhaps in time she herself would hear Him, and somewhat cautiously she said so. “Maybe one day you'll decide to stay with us, Gabriella. When you're grown up. Maybe this was God's way to bring you to us.”

“You mean like Julie?” Gabriella looked startled by what Mother Gregoria had suggested. She couldn't even begin to imagine being a nun like they were. They were much too good, and she was much too bad, they just didn't know it. And she was still trying to absorb the shock of hearing that her mother had moved to San Francisco and left her. She couldn't help wondering if her mother had known that when she left her there. But unlike the last time she had seen her father, she had sensed none of the tenderness or sorrow or regret she had understood afterward, when she thought about it. There had been none of that when her mother had dropped her off at St. Matthew's. As usual, there had only been threats and anger, and she'd been in a hurry to leave her.

“One day you will know Gabbie, if you have a vocation. You must listen very, very carefully. And if you do, it will come to you very clearly. God speaks to us as loudly as He needs to, so we hear Him.”

“I don't always hear things,” Gabriella said with a small, shy smile, and the Mother Superior laughed gently. “I think you hear everything you need to.” And then her eyes grew sad as she looked at the child. She had taken it well, but it was a hard thing to tell her, harder still to live with, knowing your parents didn't want you, which was what it amounted to for Gabriella. Impossible to understand how people in her parents’ circumstances, particularly, could do this. But it wasn't the first time it had happened. And perhaps, in some way none of them could understand, perhaps it was a blessing. And despite the confusing emotions she felt, Gabriella knew that. She had never cried once when Mother Gregoria had told her. She just felt a sick feeling in her stomach, when she realized she might never see either of them ever again. It was hard to understand that, and in some ways Gabriella didn't.