“Is there more to this ugly story, Gabriella? If there is, I want to know it.” It was not an ugly story, and hearing it described that way nearly broke Gabriella's heart as she listened. All she could do was shake her head. She refused to tell her any more lies now. “I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that there is going to be an investigation at St. Stephen's. The archbishop will be called today. And we won't be seeing Father Connors here for quite some time.” She paused for breath, looking deep into Gabbie's eyes, searching for answers Gabriella wouldn't allow her to see there. “I am going to suggest to you that you spend some time seriously examining your conscience, and your vocation, at our sister house in Oklahoma.” It sounded like a death sentence to Gabbie, and she almost shrieked when she heard it.

“Oklahoma?” It came out as a single croaking sound that seemed unfamiliar to her. But it was all she could say now. “I won't leave here.” It was the only time Gabriella had defied the Mother Superior since their initial battle over her going to college. But Mother Gregoria was more than firm now. Beneath her calm exterior, she was livid. At Gabriella, and the priest who had offered her temptation and nearly broken her spirit. It was an unpardonable sin as far as the Mother Superior was concerned, and she would have to do a great deal of praying herself, she knew, to forgive it. He had had no right to do this to her. He had been in a situation of extreme trust here. She was a young, innocent girl, and he should have known better.

“You have no choice in this matter, Gabriella. You are leaving here tomorrow. And you will be carefully watched until you go, so don't try to reach him. If you choose to stay with us, and that choice is still yours, you must carefully think about what you've done, and decide if you really want to be here. I offered you every opportunity to go back to the world for a time, to be part of it, if that's what you wanted to do, and you refused it. But at no time did that include consorting with a priest in clandestine meetings.”

“I didn't,” Gabbie said, looking agonized, and hating herself for the lies she was telling, but she felt she had to, if only for his sake.

“I wish I could believe you.” The Mother Superior stood up then, and signaled in no uncertain terms that the meeting was over. “You may go back to your room now. You will not speak to the other postulants for the rest of the day, or until you leave. One of the Sisters in the kitchen will bring a tray to your room, but you may not speak to her either.” Overnight, she had become a leper. And without a word she left the room, and went back upstairs, desperate to call him, but there was no way she could do it. All she knew was that she could not go to Oklahoma. She would not leave him.

She lay on her bed all that day, thinking of him, and by nightfall she was in a total state. She had written to him in her journal all day, and when she wasn't writing or lying down, she paced, wishing she could at least get out to the garden, but she knew she couldn't. She could not defy Mother Gregoria's orders any further. And all day she wondered what they were doing to him, and what he was saying to the archbishop. But neither of them had ever thought for a moment this would be easy. They had both known that from the beginning. Now all they had to do was survive the pain and humiliation until they could be together.

She never touched the food that came to her that day, and it was after dinnertime when she felt a strange pain low in her belly. It took her breath away at first, and then disappeared, and in a little while, it was followed by another. Gabriella had no idea what it meant, but she was in such a state worrying about Joe that she scarcely noticed. And by the time the other two postulants returned to the room, she was in bed, in agony, but she said nothing to them. She knew that whatever it was, it was from sheer terror.

The others said nothing at all to her, they had been warned that Gabriella was deeply troubled and they were not to speak to her. They had no idea what she had done, or what punishment was being meted out to her, but they whispered about it constantly whenever Sister Emanuel left the room, trying to guess what had happened. Only Sister Anne remained strangely silent.

Gabriella never slept that night, thinking about him, worrying about what he had said, or what they were saying to him. She imagined something much akin to the Spanish Inquisition going on at St. Stephen's, and at two o'clock that morning, she was in so much pain, she almost called out to the others, but she couldn't. What could she tell them? She could hardly say she was afraid she might lose her baby. Instead, she nearly crawled, hunched over, to the bathroom, and there she saw the first telltale signs of what she suspected was a serious problem. But there was no one she could turn to for help, not even Mother Gregoria this time, and surely not the others. And she had no way of reaching Joe. She had to wait to hear from him. She felt sure he would come for her, and that the whole situation would explode by morning. If he had told them he was leaving the priesthood for her, when they confronted him, it was only a matter of time before he came to find her at St. Matthew's. And then, she promised herself, she would tell Mother Gregoria everything that had happened, or as much of it as she needed to know. But she would not leave here with a trail of lies, like tin cans, rattling behind her.

But by morning, Gabriella was nearly blinded by pain and terror. And she had no idea what time they would come to try and make her go to Oklahoma. But that, at least, she knew she was not doing. She would refuse to leave here, and they could hardly carry her out in her nightgown.

She heard the others get up silently, and waited until they were gone, and when she stirred finally from her own bed, she saw that there was blood on the sheets, and she had no idea what to do about it. She went back to bed, crying softly, and lay there. And as the first light of day came up, after she had heard them singing in the chapel, she heard the door to her room open again, and saw Sister Emanuel looking down at her with immeasurable sorrow. She thought the old nun had even been crying.

“Mother Gregoria wants to see you now, Gabbie,” she said sadly. This was a sad day for all of them, saddest of all for Gabriella, who had so terribly betrayed them.

“I'm not going to Oklahoma,” she said hoarsely, not even sure she could get up. The pains had continued getting worse as she lay there.

“You'll have to come downstairs and talk to her about it.” She was afraid to say she couldn't, and waited instead until Sister Emanuel left the room, and then struggled into her clothes with enormous difficulty. It reminded her of the days when she'd been beaten, had been wracked with pain, and had to dress for her mother. And much to her own amazement, she found this was harder.

And as she dressed, the pains were worse than ever. She could barely get down the stairs, and she nearly had to crawl into the Mother Superior's office. But she forced herself to stand upright as she walked into the office, and was so blinded by pain she nearly fainted. And as she entered, Gabbie gave a visible start to see that there were two priests standing beside Mother Gregoria. They had been there for nearly an hour, discussing what they were going to say to Gabriella.

When the Mother Superior looked up at her, she had never seen Gabriella look worse. She was clearly in hell now, and it took all her restraint to keep from getting up and going to her.

“Father O'Brian and Father Dimeola have come to speak to you, Sister Bernadette,” she said, using the name of her postulancy so it would seem less personal to both of them, and not hurt her quite so much as she listened to what they had to say to her. But in spite of herself, her entire heart and soul went out silently to the child she had known and loved as Gabbie.

“Mother Gregoria will decide your fate later today,” Father O'Brian said, with a look of grief in his eyes, which took in nothing of Gabbie's situation. She seemed to be gasping for air, as the room closed in around her, and with each passing second she got paler. But as far as they were concerned, whatever agonies she suffered now, she deserved them. “But we have come to speak to you about Father Connors.” He had told them then, Gabbie thought with relief as she watched them with unseeing eyes. She was in such pain, she could barely hear them. “He has left a letter for you,” Father Dimeola said sadly, “explaining how he felt about the situation you lured him into.”

“Did he say that?” Gabbie looked shocked as she stared at him. Joe would never have said that about her. It was clearly their interpretation of the situation, and they had decided to blame her. She could hear a clock ticking on the wall somewhere and she wished they'd get through with it, so she could leave them.

“Father Connors did not say that precisely, but it's obvious from what he did say.”

“May I see the letter, please?” Gabbie held out a shaking hand with surprising dignity, and had they been able to admit it to her, or themselves, they admired her for it.

“In a moment,” Father O'Brian answered. “We have something to tell you first. Something you must live with now, and understand clearly your part in it. You have condemned a man to hell, Sister Bernadette. For eternity. There will be no redemption for his soul. There cannot be, after what he's done… after what you brought him to. Your hell will be in knowing that you did this.” She hated the ugly sound of their words, and their cruel lack of forgiveness, for either of them. No matter what they had done, they did not deserve this, and all she could think of now was how Joe must have suffered at their hands, and she hated them for it. She only wanted to see him now, to tell him how much she loved him, and bring him comfort. They had no right to torture him, as well as condemn him.

“I want to see him,” she said in a strong voice that surprised even her. She was not going to let them do this to him. And they could not keep her from him. They no longer had a right to.

“You will never see him again,” Father O'Brian said in a voice so terrifying, Gabriella actually shuddered.

“You have no right to decide that. It is Father Connors’ decision. And if that is his decision, I will respect it.” She looked beautiful and strong and dignified as she said it, and in spite of herself, Mother Gregoria loved her for it. And as pale as she was as she spoke to them, Gabriella looked almost angelic.

“You will not see him again,” Father O'Brian intoned again, and Gabriella looked immovable this time as she faced him. And then he dealt her the final blow, the only one she had in no way expected, and they meted it out to her so cruelly it nearly destroyed her faith forever. “He took his life early this morning. He left you this letter.” Father Dimeola waved it at her menacingly as the room spun slowly around her.

“He… I…” She had heard the words, but she did not fully understand them. Not yet. That would come later. She looked up at them imploringly, begging them with her eyes to tell her they had lied to her. But they hadn't.

“He could not live with what he had done… he could not face leaving the church… or taking on what you expected of him. He took his life rather than do what you wanted. He hanged himself in his room at St. Stephen's last night, a sin for which he will burn in hell eternally. He chose to die rather than to abandon the God he loved more than he loved you, Sister Bernadette… and you will live with this on your conscience forever.” She looked at him clearly then, and stood up with a strength she didn't know she had. She stood very still for a moment, looking at each of them with eyes that refused to believe what he had just said, and then with a small, startled sound, the life went out of her entirely, and she fainted, knowing only as she fell that Joe had abandoned her, he was gone. He had left her alone, like all the others.

But before she could say a single word to them, she had disappeared into the merciful arms of darkness. As she fell, they stared at her, and saw for the first time, the pool of blood spreading rapidly around her.





Chapter 13




GABRIELLA WAS AWARE of a high-pitched wailing somewhere in the distance. It was an endless sound, the howling of banshees, and sounded to her like the death screams of her spirit. She tried to speak, but found that she couldn't. She tried to open her eyes, but could not see. Everything was dim and gray, alternating with silent blackness. She had no idea where she was, and did not understand that the sound she heard was the siren of the ambulance she rode in.