“Tell her to knock it off, or get out her boxing gloves. When I was in the seminary, I had a boxing match with another seminarian I'd had a series of disagreements with. It seemed like the only way to resolve it.”

“What happened?” she whispered, smiling at the unconventional confession. It had been more like a session with a therapist than an ordinary confession. But whoever the unknown priest was, she liked him, and she felt as though he had helped her. He seemed to have compassion, wisdom, and humor. “Did the boxing match help?” she asked with interest.

“Actually, it did. He gave me a fantastic black eye, and almost knocked me out cold, but we were great friends after that, for some reason. I still hear from him every Christmas. He's a missionary priest with the lepers in Kenya.”

“Maybe we could arrange for an early novitiate and Sister Anne would like to join him,” she whispered. Even in college, she had had no exchanges like this one, bantering with her fellow students or professors. And the priest with the youthful voice was chuckling discreetly.

“Why don't you suggest it to her? In the meantime, say three Hail Marys and an Our Father, and mean them,” he said pointedly, sounding serious now that they had shared their little joke. She was surprised at how little penance he had given her before giving her absolution.

“You let me off pretty easy, Father.”

“Are you complaining?” He sounded amused again.

“No, I'm just surprised. I haven't gotten off that light since I got here.”

“Sounds like you're due for a break, Sister. Go easy on yourself, and why not just try to let it roll off your back for a while? It sounds like it's more her problem than yours, or should be. Don't confuse her with your mother. She's not the same person. Neither are you anymore. No one can torment you, except yourself. Love thy neighbor as thyself, Sister. Work on that until your next confession.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“Go in peace, Sister,” he whispered, and she left the confessional and slipped into a pew at the back of the chapel to say her penance. And when she looked up, she saw Sister Anne go into the confessional shortly after. She was in it for a long time, and came out with a red face and looked as though she had been crying. Gabriella hoped charitably that he hadn't been too hard on her, and then felt guilty for saying so much to him. But she felt better than she had for a while when she stopped for a moment to chat with the Mistress of Postulants on her way out of the chapel. And they talked for so long about one of the older nuns who had been ill for a while that Gabriella saw the light come on in the confessional, and the priest she had spoken to emerge, and she was startled when she saw him. He was very tall and athletic-looking. He had broad shoulders, thick sandy-blond hair almost the same color as her own, and he smiled as soon as he glanced up and saw the two nuns chatting.

“Good evening, Sisters,” he said easily as he stopped for a moment where they were talking. “What a beautiful chapel you have here.” He was looking around and admiring the church they were all so proud of, as the Mistress of Postulants smiled at him, and Gabriella tried not to stare at him. There was something very powerful and very compelling about him. And in an odd, more athletic, even better-looking way, he reminded her vaguely of her father, as he had looked to her when she was a child and he had just returned from Korea.

“Is this your first time here, Father?” the Mistress of Postulants asked him.

“My second. I'm taking over for Father O'Brian. He's on sabbatical in Rome for six months, visiting the Vatican and doing a project for the archbishop. I'm Father Connors, Joe Connors.” He smiled at them.

“How wonderful.” The older Sister was impressed about Father O'Brian's trip to the Vatican, and for a long moment, Gabriella said nothing.

“Are you one of the postulants?” he finally asked her directly, and she nodded, worried that he might recognize her voice after their long, chatty confession. She was trying to envision him with a black eye, and engaging in a boxing match with the seminarian he had hated.

“This is Sister Bernadette,” the Mistress of Postulants introduced her proudly. She had loved Gabriella since she was a child, and now she was her star student. It had been a personal joy to her when Gabbie had decided to join the Order. “She's lived here since she was a child,” the Mistress of Postulants explained, “and now she's decided to join the Order. We're all very proud of her.”

There was a question in his eyes as he held out a hand to her, and Gabriella smiled as she took it. “I'm very happy to meet you, Sister,” he smiled warmly at her, and relaxing slightly, Gabbie smiled at him.

“Thank you, Father. I'm afraid we all kept you very late this evening.” She could see from his eyes that he recognized her voice instantly, but made no comment about it… “Oh, so you're the one who hates Sister Anne” would hardly have been appropriate, and she could barely repress a smile as she thought of it.

“I'm given to long-winded confessions,” he admitted with a grin that would have melted the hearts of a thousand women, if his circumstances had been any different. Gabriella guessed him to be about thirty years old, although she was usually a poor judge of those things, having lived out of the secular world for most of her adulthood. “Short penances, though,” he grinned with a wink, and she blushed. He knew exactly who she was, and she couldn't help laughing at him.

“I'm very relieved to hear that. It's so embarrassing when you have to stay on your knees for an hour doing four hundred acts of contrition. Everyone can guess just how bad you've been. I like short penances a lot better.”

“I'll keep that in mind. I'll be back at the end of the week. Father George is covering for me in between. I have to go to Boston for the day for the archbishop.”

“Have a good trip, Father,” the Mistress of Postulants said with a friendly smile, as he thanked her and left them. “What a nice young man,” she commented to Gabriella easily as they walked slowly out of the chapel. “I had no idea Father O'Brian had gone to Rome. I never hear anything anymore, you girls keep me so busy.” They wished each other a good night, and Gabriella walked slowly up to her dormitory, hoping she wouldn't run into Sister Anne lurking in the hall somewhere, waiting for her to complain about her or berate her. But she was nowhere in sight as Gabriella walked upstairs, thinking about the young priest who had heard her confession. He was certainly a good-looking young man, and intelligent. He had made her feel a lot better about the hostility with Sister Anne. Suddenly it didn't seem very important. And for the first time in weeks, Gabriella was in good spirits when she got into her bed in the room she shared with two other postulants. Fortunately for her, Sister Anne was not among them. And for once, she didn't even have nightmares. They had been worse than ever lately, particularly since she had noticed how much Sister Anne reminded her of her mother.

“Good night, Sister Bernie,” one of the other postulants called out to her in the darkness.

“Good night, Sister Tommy… night, Sister Agatha…” She loved being with them, being one of them, wearing her habit every day. Suddenly she realized how much she loved all of it, and all of them, everything they did and cared about and shared here. It was what she had wanted to be all her life, and never knew it. Until now, she had always resisted the idea of joining the Order, and now it was all she lived for. And as she fell asleep that night, she realized how much Father Connors had helped her with his good-humored and thoughtful attitude about her confession. She'd have to try and do her confession with him again. She was glad he was coming back later in the week. He was so much more reasonable, and helpful, than Father O'Brian. Everything seemed to be working out for her suddenly, and she smiled as she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep and never woke again until morning.





Chapter 9




THE REST OF the week sped by easily. The postulants had a lot of chores to do. Gabriella had volunteered to do some extra gardening, and she wanted to plant a lot of vegetables for the Sisters before summer. It gave her some peaceful time to think and pray, and she always found it relaxed her to do manual labor. And in the evenings, after she said her prayers, she tried to get in a little writing. But she had had very little time for it lately. And Sister Anne had put a damper on it for her. She said that it was vain of her to be so proud of her writing. And the truth was, Gabriella wasn't proud of it, she just loved it. She was never really sure she had written anything someone else would want to read, it was just a window for her soul to peek through, an avenue she traveled with ease and without even thinking about it. It was the other nuns who loved reading her stories. But as usual, the young postulant from Vermont was jealous.

Gabriella tried to stay away from her that week, and she tried to remember the suggestions Father Connors had made when he heard her confession. He came back at the end of the week, as he said he would. He said Mass for all of them, and heard their confessions. And when he recognized Gabriella's voice in the darkness, he asked her comfortably how things were going. He had an easy way, and a warm, friendly style that made confession seem less austere, and much less daunting, although it was a ritual that had always brought Gabriella comfort. It was the only time and place where she knew she might be forgiven for the terrible, unspoken sins she had been blamed for, and felt so guilty for, since her childhood. It was one of the rare times when, in the darkest recesses of her soul, she didn't feel truly evil.

Gabriella assured him in the confessional that things were going better with Sister Anne, and she had been praying a great deal about her. He gave her five Hail Marys to say for the minor assortment of venial sins she'd confessed, and sent her on her way, and then later saw her again when he stopped in to see the nuns at breakfast. He was having coffee at Mother Gregoria's table, and waved casually at her, as she smiled from where she sat. It seemed odd to her again how much he looked like her father. He had a larger frame, and a warmer smile, but there was something very familiar about him. And it caught her up short when Sister Anne made an ugly comment to her later that afternoon when they were working in the garden.

“Have you spoken to Sister Emanuel about Father Connors yet?” Sister Emanuel was the Mistress of Postulants, and Gabriella couldn't imagine what Sister Anne meant as she looked up from her planting.

“Father Connors?” she asked blankly. “What about him?”

“I saw you talking to him the other day, and flirting with him in the dining hall this morning.” At first, Gabriella thought she was joking. She had to be. She couldn't be serious in her accusation, and Gabriella laughed as she went back to planting a row of basil.

“Very funny,” she said, and forgot the comment almost immediately, but when she glanced up again she saw a look in the other nun's eyes which upset her.

“I'm serious. You should confess to Sister Emanuel about it.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Sister Anne.” A tone of annoyance crept into Gabriella's voice. She always had some new idea with which to torture Gabriella, and try to make her feel guilty, but this time at least, she didn't. “I've only spoken to him in confession.”

“That's a lie, and you know it,” the young postulant from Vermont said harshly. She was a girl for whom life had not gone well, and bitter disappointment had brought her to the convent. She was homely, and her childhood sweetheart had broken their engagement barely a week before their wedding. And it was easy for even Gabbie to see now that she had an enormous chip on her shoulder. “I saw him watching you in the dining hall. And I'm going to tell Sister Emanuel, if you don't.”

Gabriella stood to her full height then, and looked down at Sister Anne with sudden anger. “You're talking about a priest, a man who has given himself to God, and comes here to say Mass for us and hear our confessions. It must be a sin to even think something like that about him. You're not only insulting me, but you're questioning his vocation.”

“He's a man, just like all the rest of them. They only think about one thing. I know more about these things than you do.” She knew full well that Gabriella had led a sheltered life, hidden away for the past ten years at Saint Matthew's Convent. She had been engaged, married almost, and the man she'd loved had cheated on her and run off with her best friend from high school. She felt far wiser in the ways of the world, and was much more cynical than Gabriella, who still had a rare innocence about her.