Danielle Steel - The long road home

But it wasn't of them that Gabriella was thinking that night, but of the woman who had held her in her arms that morning and consoled her. She remembered the powerful arms that had held her tight and made her feel safe from the agonies she had endured, and that for ten years she had fled from. She had never known anyone like the Mother Superior, and like Julie she was already wondering what it would be like to stay there forever.

She shared a room with the two other girls. It was small and bare, and had a tiny window that looked out into the convent garden. And as she lay in bed, not making a sound, she could see the moon high in the sky, framed by the tiny window. She wondered where her mother was that night, still at home, or on the train, and how soon she would be back from the mysterious place called Reno. But however long she chose to be gone, Gabriella knew with absolute certainty that, for the first time in her life, she was completely safe here. She could hardly imagine what her life would be like, but for the first time in ten years, she knew she had nothing to fear, no beatings, no punishments, no accusations, no hatred to flee from. She had been so certain when they stood at the front door that day that she had been brought here to punish her, and now, just as certainly, she knew that her coming here had been a blessing.

She fell asleep that night, thinking of all of them, the nuns who had circled her like gentle birds in the dining hall that night… Sister Lizzie… Sister Timothy… Sister Mary Margaret… Sister John… and the tall woman with wise eyes who had brought Gabriella into her heart, without a sound, without a word, but kept her nestled there, a small bird with a broken wing, and already now, as she lay hidden at the bottom of her bed as she always did, she could feel the broken parts in her soul slowly mending.

They came to wake them the next day, as they always did, at four o'clock in the morning. The three young girls spent the first two hours of the day in church, with the nuns, praying silently, and then finally, just before the sun came up, the entire community began singing together. Gabriella thought she had never heard anything as beautiful as their voices raised in unison, praising a God she had implored for years, and whom she often had reason to doubt ever listened. But here, in the power of their faith and love, his love for them seemed so obvious and irresistible, the safety he offered them seemed so certain. And by the time she entered the dining hall with them again for their first meal of the day, she felt strangely at peace among them.

Breakfast was a silent meal, it was a time for contemplation, and preparation for what they would bring to the world beyond these walls throughout the day, in the hospital and school where they worked, bringing solace and healing to those they touched and moved among as they sought to live and express God's blessing. They left each other with nods and smiles, and went to their cells and dormitories, depending on their age and status in the convent. The older nuns had individual cells of their own, the novices and postulants lived in small dormitories, just as Gabriella did now with the other two boarders. And like them, she would study here with two of the old nuns who were retired teachers. A small schoolroom had been set up for them, and she and the other two girls were settled into it and hard at work by seven-thirty that morning. They worked hard until noon, doing work that was appropriate for each of them, and then took their noon meal in the dining hall with the handful of nuns who did not work outside the convent.

Gabriella didn't see Mother Gregoria all day. In fact, she didn't see her again until that night at dinner, and Gabriella's eyes lit up, as did Mother Gregoria's, the moment she saw her. She walked shyly over to her, and Mother Gregoria asked her with a warm smile how her first day was.

“Did you work hard in school?” Gabriella nodded with a cautious smile. It had been much harder than her normal classes, and there had been no breaks for games or recess, but she was surprised to find that she liked it. There was something very peaceful about being here, and sharing the things they did. It seemed as though everyone had a job, a purpose, a goal. It was not merely the absence of the world one noticed here, but the presence of something more, a way of giving, rather than just surviving and taking. In their own way, in their own time, they had each come here for a reason, and they were each expected to empty their souls each day, for the benefit of others. And rather than depleting them, it seemed to fill them. Even the children were aware of it, like Julie, Natalie, and “Gabbie,” as half the convent already seemed to have named her, and she was surprised to find that she liked it.

Everything about this was so different from the life she had known before. The women here were the exact opposite of her mother. There was no vanity, no egocentricity, no anger, no rage. It was a life entirely devoted to love, and harmony, and serving others. They were all amazingly happy and safe here. And for the first time in her life, so was Gabriella.

Two priests came to hear confession that night. They came four times a week, and the nuns lined up in silence in the chapel after dinner, and Sister Lizzie asked if she would like to join them. She had made her first communion four years before, and was able and expected to take the sacraments, though not necessarily as often as the Sisters, all of whom took communion daily. Most of their confessions were brief, some long, all prayed quietly for a considerable amount of time afterward, contemplating their failings and sins as nuns, and doing the penance they had been given.

Gabriella's confession was very short, but interesting to the priest who listened. After telling him how long it had been since her last confession, she admitted to him the sin of often hating her mother.

“Why, my child?” he asked her gently. Of the two priests hearing confession that night, he was by far the elder, a kindly man who had been a priest for forty years and had a deep love of children. He could hear through the grille how young her voice was, and knew from Mother Gregoria that there was a new child among them, although he had not yet met her before her confession. “Why would you allow the devil to tempt you to hate your mother?”

There was an interminable silence before she answered. “Because she hates me,” the smallest of voices told him, but she sounded certain.

“A mother never hates her child. Never. God would never allow that.” But God had allowed a lot of things to happen to her that she felt sure he had never inflicted on others, perhaps because she herself was so bad, or perhaps God hated her too, although here, at St. Matthew's, it seemed hard to believe that.

“I know that my mother hates me.”

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.