“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.

“I think what you're saying, and thinking, is disgusting, and I think Sister Emanuel would tell you exactly the same thing. I don't know what you're talking about, but I would never say a thing like that about a priest. Maybe it's time you talked to Sister Emanuel about the kind of things you're thinking. A little more faith and charity might be in order.” Gabriella was still angry when she turned back to her work, and the two young nuns did not exchange another word for the rest of the afternoon as they continued working in the garden. Eventually, Sister Anne went back inside to set the long refectory tables in the dining room, and Gabriella stayed in the garden until she finished. And by the time she went back to her room to wash her hands and say her afternoon prayers, she had regained her composure and was in better spirits. But if she'd allowed herself to dwell on it, she would have been furious at Sister Anne again about her accusations about Father Connors. He was the very spirit of Christ-like devotion, and he exuded the warmth and kindness they should all emulate. Gabriella had nothing but admiration for him, and the idea that he'd been “flirting” with her was utterly repulsive.