Page 7

THE CONVENT OF THE SACRED HEART, ONE YEAR LATER.

What a difference a year makes .

Sister Madeleine dismissed the thought as she looked down at the page before her.

She hadn’t really been reading.

Not that it mattered; she’d read this book so many times that she could recite it in her sleep.

Especially the Catechism of the Catholic Church ’s section on angels.

The Catechism said it loud and clear: angels existed.

Pope John Paul II had authorized it, so it was official.

Each believer had an angel and protector that would lead him or her to eternal life.

The creature on the beach had protected Madeleine from dying—especially from dying without one final absolution of her sins from a priest. That matched the description.

But angels must also be, as the Catechism put it, more perfect than all earthly creatures, full of splendor and glory.

Madeleine’s otherworldly rescuer hadn’t seemed like that.

Madeleine hadn’t even seen her face.

She hadn’t glowed, except for the moonlight that had temporarily silhouetted her while Madeleine lay dazed and dazzled on the beach.

She’d never heard of angels that kissed you, either.

At least not like that, hungry and hard, in a way that had caused her several sleepless nights while she wrestled with urges she’d thought were gone.

So…it might have been something other than an angel.

That idea had kept her up at night too.

Her faith had room for apparitions, the dead who came from heaven to counsel the living away from sin—but that was a good thing.

Opinion was generally divided on ghosts.

In any case, neither apparitions nor ghosts were supposed to feel so…

physical, and they definitely weren’t supposed to make out with you.

Holy Scripture accounted for demons, but they usually possessed humans before Jesus or his saints had cast them out.

It was hard to imagine why a demon would possess a human’s body, kiss Madeleine, and then disappear, taking the human body with it.

No. As incredible and impossible as it seemed, an angel was the most likely answer.

Tomorrow would mark the first anniversary of Madeleine’s supernatural encounter.

As it approached, she’d grown nervous and jumpy, as if she were bracing for something to happen.

But here in Philadelphia, far from that Orcadian beach, what could it be?

For some reason, she thought of Ava, who’d been with her that day.

Both she and Emma had graduated and were now at the same university.

Months ago, Ava had written to say she’d decided the sisterhood wasn’t for her.

Thank heavens she’d realized it before it was too late.

Imagine refusing to give the idea enough reflection, committing yourself, and losing decades to a life that wasn’t right for you.

It was enough to make Madeleine’s blood turn to ice.

Someone cleared her throat.

Madeleine started. More than a decade spent as a high school teacher helped her detect even the sneakiest footsteps, but she’d been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard a thing.

Before her stood Sacred Heart’s only other nun under fifty: Sister Bridget, a young woman who worked diligently and was so pretty that Madeleine had spent the last year trying not to notice her delicate hands.

“What is it?” She’d sounded too sharp.

“I’m sorry. What is it, Sister?”

“Sister Catherine wants to see you,” Bridget said, her voice meek with deference to a senior sister.

Madeleine rose to her feet at once.

“Is she in the garden?” That seemed likely.

It was the hour for recreation, a rare moment when nuns had time to do what they wanted—hence Madeleine reading about angels where nobody would bother her.

The garden was Sister Catherine’s favorite place to rest. Madeleine loved it too, a place where things of both use and beauty grew.

To her surprise, Bridget said, “Sister Catherine’s in her office.” She lowered her voice.

“There’s someone else there too. I’m sworn not to say who.”

Madeleine stared at her.

“I probably wasn’t supposed to mention it at all,” Bridget said sheepishly.

“But I wanted to give you some warning.”

“Warning?” That sounded ominous, to say the least.

“Oh, just that she’s, um, not alone? I’m sure it’s nothing bad? It’s probably?—”

“ Thank you, Sister.” Madeleine brushed her skirt down.

“I’ll be on my way.”

She took deep, steadying breaths as she proceeded alone to Sister Catherine’s office.

Even at thirty-six, it was hard not to be apprehensive about going to see the principal.

Especially given where Madeleine’s head had been recently: all those doubts, those worries, those…

unholy thoughts. Sister Bridget had long, slender hands.

Soon, she was knocking on the imposing wooden door with a brass placard that read: “SUPERIOR.”

“Come in,” Sister Catherine called from the other side.

Madeleine entered the familiar space, a bit fancier than most of Sacred Heart, with beautiful wood paneling, an impressive carved wooden desk with a matching chair, and a stained glass window depicting the Virgin and Child.

As usual, Sister Catherine sat behind the desk with her hands folded in front of her and a calm look on her face.

More unusually, another nun stood by the window with her back turned, gazing at the brightly colored panes.

Madeleine closed the door.

The other nun turned, and Madeleine gasped to see who it was.

She lowered her head immediately.

Footsteps approached her.

A hand appeared before her face.

Madeleine took it and kissed its ring of office: a garnet set in a band of silver.

“Sister Madeleine,” said Mother Gertrude warmly, and she took Madeleine’s hand in both of her own.

Madeleine looked at the Superior General of the Daughters of Grace.

Mother Gertrude was in her mid-sixties and, years ago, had overseen Madeleine’s own novitiate.

Those had not been easy years, but Gertrude was a kind and steady leader.

When Madeleine had taken her temporary vows and left the convent to serve elsewhere, Gertrude had told her she “showed great promise” and invited her to keep in touch.

Madeleine had.

Mother Gertrude released Madeleine’s hand.

“When was the last time we met in person? Five years at least. It’s wonderful to see you.”

Madeleine smiled.

“And you too, Reverend Mother. I had no idea you were coming.”

Which was strange, now that she thought about it.

A visit from the Superior General should be an occasion, not a secret Sister Bridget had to keep.

Mother Gertrude and Sister Catherine glanced at each other.

Gertrude said, “We’ll announce my presence later. You’ll have the chance to roll out the red carpet then.”

“It’s got holes in it,” Sister Catherine said dryly.

“Here’s hoping our next Superior will be more successful at squeezing money from you than I was.”

Gertrude clearly took no offense.

“She can try. I’ll open up the order’s purse and let her see the dust inside.”

“She’ll have to be gutsy enough to push back, then.”

Madeleine bit her lip at the easy rapport between two senior members of the order, so hard-working and devoted that they’d earned their places.

Madeleine couldn’t imagine either of them spending hours thinking about dark angels or temptations of the flesh.

They focused on education, on good works, on…

Right now, they seemed especially focused on Madeleine.

Looking straight at her, in fact.

Her body stiffened in alarm.

Had she missed something?

She’d definitely felt off her game in the last year, but she’d worked twice as hard to cover it up.

This was hardly the time to space out.

Mother Gertrude gestured at the two chairs in front of Sister Catherine’s desk, usually reserved for visiting parents or misbehaving students.

“Sit down, Sister Madeleine.”

Madeleine did, her knees a little shaky for no clear reason.

Gertrude took the second chair, angling it so she could look easily between Madeleine and Catherine.

“Sister Catherine, would you like to begin?” Gertrude asked.

Madeleine had always admired how the Superior General made room for others to speak first. If she herself ever reached such a position of authority, she’d want to follow that example.

Not right, her inner voice whispered maddeningly.

Not for you. Unworthy.

“I might as well,” Catherine sighed.

She did look worn out, her once-sharp eyes now dull with fatigue.

“It’s no secret that I’ve been talking about stepping down. For too long, it’s just been talk, but I’ve recently had some medical news that’ll hurry things along. Nothing terminal,” she added when Madeleine leaned forward in alarm.

“But my rheumatoid arthritis isn’t responding to the injections, and the doctor says it’s time to start discussing surgery.”

Madeleine looked at the swollen joints and prominent veins on Sister Catherine’s hands.

“I’m so sorry, Sister.”

Catherine shrugged.

“We’re none of us without trials. The fact is, this was the sign I needed. I can’t be wrangling everything while dealing with this. The pain is…” She winced.

Mother Gertrude reached across the desk and gently took one of Catherine’s hands.

Madeleine’s heart ached.

It wasn’t a surprise that Catherine was ready to step down, but what an awful reason to do it.

“How can I help you, Sister?”

Mother Gertrude and Sister Catherine looked at each other.

Then they looked back at Madeleine.

“There is something you can do, actually,” Gertrude said.

“I’m considering you for the position of Superior of Sacred Heart.”

Superiors General weren’t known for joking around.

Madeleine waited for the punchline anyway.

Gertrude smiled. “You’re surprised.”

“You’re kidding.” That had come out wrong.

“Uh, Reverend Mother.”

Gertrude chuckled as she let go of Catherine’s hand.

“I figured you’d say that. Sister Catherine and I have discussed this at length. I’m serious.”

Madeleine couldn’t speak, only stare, while Gertrude and Catherine looked back expectantly.

Finally, she found her voice.

“But how could I be worthy of such a responsibility when other sisters are more…um…”

Catherine asked wryly, “More eager?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you didn’t. Well done.” Mother Gertrude folded her hands in her lap.

“I know you’re relatively young. You nevertheless have a good head on your shoulders—except for when you bonked it last year and fell in the ocean.”

She and Sister Catherine both chuckled while Madeleine’s face burned.

She fought not to touch her forehead.

It still bore a scar, about half as long as her pinkie finger, from when she’d hit her head on the dinghy.

The doctor had said it would likely never fade completely.

More seriously, Gertrude said, “You’ve ably filled every position of responsibility we’ve given you. Teaching, chairing a department, helping Sister Catherine balance the budget—these are no small things to ask of someone. Now, instead of being grateful, we’re asking for more.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Catherine interjected.

“My only reservation is about your besetting sin of pridefulness, which we’ve discussed—that, and your stubborn streak.”

“Yes, Sister, but I really don’t think I’m the best fit for the job.”

“I rest my case.”

“May I share my concerns, Reverend Mother?” Madeleine asked desperately, hoping that these concerns would come in a coherent form while she spoke of them.

Right now, they were just a jumble of no and wrong and can’t they see?

What was there to see, though?

Mother Gertrude and Sister Catherine were wise and discerning.

If they saw potential in Madeleine, it had to be there.

Why did this proposal make Madeleine want to flee?

“You may,” Mother Gertrude replied.

“It’s not just that I’m young, but about how my other sisters would respond to that. Some of them have been here for decades. Shouldn’t someone more senior take the position?” She thought about any possibility other than Agnes.

“What about Sister Judith? She just oversaw our gym renovation, and?—”

“Sister Judith’s gifts lie elsewhere,” Gertrude interrupted.

“As, I believe, do her interests. Trust me, I share some of your concerns. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and Sister Catherine and I have been in conversation for several weeks now.”

Becoming the Superior.

That also meant becoming the principal.

Madeleine wasn’t eager to step out of the classroom—few joys rivaled those of encouraging young minds to broaden.

She also took shameful pride in being kinder than her own teachers had been in Catholic school decades ago.

Unlike the nuns of her youth, she’d never once thrown an eraser, slapped a student’s palm with a ruler, or made anybody stand in a trash can for asking a silly question.

On the other hand, it was no secret that Sacred Heart was ready for a few changes.

Madeleine had ideas, visions that could now become plans.

And it would keep both the school and convent out of Agnes’s hands.

The list of the convent’s banned books wouldn’t expand, and students wouldn’t need to worry about detention if their uniform skirts were a centimeter too short.

“She’s thinking about it, Catherine,” Mother Gertrude said cheerfully.

“So I see, Reverend Mother.”

Might as well put it on the table.

“Does Sister Agnes know about this?”

Both Gertrude and Catherine shook their heads.

Catherine asked, “Are you afraid of her?”

Madeleine sat up straight, her eyes widening.

The idea! “Not even a little, but I don’t want to cause dissent in a community I?—”

Don’t belong in .

The words popped into her mind so suddenly that she nearly gasped.

“L-love,” she stammered.

“Of course you don’t,” Gertrude said.

“This isn’t a popularity contest, but a question of what we want the future of our order to look like. And your generation is the future. In this respect, your youth is an asset.”

Madeleine bowed her head in acknowledgment, even as her heart continued to race like a horse straining at the bit.

“And it’s not only about loving the community,” Catherine added.

“Remember why we signed up for this life in the first place.” She pointed at the nearest crucifix.

“Our love for him, so great we could never devote ourselves to anything or anyone else. Let your love for him guide all your decisions, and you can never go wrong.”

Madeleine started as a new light glowed in Catherine’s eyes—not something she was used to seeing from her serious Superior.

Catherine’s voice was full of sincerity that might as well have been a punch to Madeleine’s gut.

During her novitiate, of course, there had been a lot of talk about feeling an all-consuming love for God: supposedly, it was necessary for the consecrated life.

They even called it becoming a “Bride of Christ.” Madeleine had never felt that passion with the fervor of some of her fellow novices, but she’d figured it manifested in her actions rather than her emotions, and that over time she’d come to feel it more.

She’d been drawn to the convent life, and that had seemed like the same thing: a calling.

She’d assumed most other nuns were the same.

Sister Catherine, for example, was relentlessly practical in all things.

Not the kind of person to swoon with love for anyone, especially at her age.

Or so Madeleine had thought.

Until right now.

“Catherine, you always hit the nail on the head. Of course it’s about that,” Mother Gertrude said, deepening the cold pit in Madeleine’s stomach.

She rose to her feet; Madeleine and Catherine followed suit, though Madeleine could have wished for steadier knees.

“Sister Madeleine, spend tonight in seclusion. Consider the matter more deeply. My presence will be announced at breakfast tomorrow, the better to allow you solitude without people putting two and two together. I’ll lie low until then and will speak with you in the chapel at first light.”

Madeleine’s answer would be expected then.

“Yes, Reverend Mother.”

“Thank you, Sister. You’re dismissed.”

Madeleine dipped her head and left the office in silence.

As she closed the door behind her, she heard Catherine’s and Gertrude’s voices murmuring again.

It was quite the effort not to commit the sin of eavesdropping.

Maybe, if she eavesdropped, she’d overhear them saying something that would reassure her and chase away the cold in the pit of her stomach.

The one that said: You cannot do this.

You cannot possibly do this.

You don’t love him enough for that.

She hugged herself as she walked.

Nobody was watching, thank goodness.

Nobody would see Sister Madeleine, pillar of her community, sensible and respected, wondering if the last fifteen years of her life had been a horrible mistake.

Reflection. She needed prayer and reflection.

There was just one problem with reflection.

Sometimes you saw what you didn’t want to see looking right back at you.