Elusive Sanctuary

The last echoes of the church bells faded away, a summoning call to early morning prayer. A steady stream of nuns filed into the chapel, the women silent in their approach. Sister Margaretta stood near the entrance, squinting in the faint light as she searched the faces passing in informal procession, her brow furrowed, her heart heavy, her mind preoccupied. She worried the beads of her rosary as her eyes flickered from face to face until she spotted Maria completing her slow walk across the cobblestone courtyard, bible clutched firmly against her chest.

The young novice looked perfectly calm, her steps as steady as those of the other nuns… but not for the first time, Sister Margaretta wondered what could be troubling the girl. She seemed happy, always smiling in greeting, helping the other Sisters when she was not at prayer. But she spoke not at all, except in prayer. She walked, never ran. Since she'd returned, she hadn't left the Abbey at all, as she'd been wont to do before. In so many ways, she was not herself. Sister Margaretta would not hazard a guess as to why, but she sensed the silent struggle, and she was determined to accompany the girl as much as she could, ready to listen should she choose to speak. If nothing else, she would offer the girl her prayers and her presence.

Maria smiled warmly as she reached Sister Margaretta, who responded in kind, reaching an arm out to lay a hand on Maria's shoulder. She felt so protective of this darling, gentle lamb, who had for some unknown reason lost the lighthearted freedom of spirit that had always been so much a part of her. She prayed that that spirit was not lost forever. With her hand still on Maria's shoulder, they both turned and entered the chapel.

- SOM -

"Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!"

The words and voices seemed to soar straight up to Heaven. Maria raised her head and closed her eyes, heart calm and at peace. The nuns' voices in song never failed to lift her spirit, to give her joy. It was a feeling that was no longer often present in her heart, and she was grateful for the moments when it came. She let it wash over her, feeling herself temporarily free of everything that was tearing away inside of her.

She kept her eyes closed as the glorious hymn of praise came to an end, and remained on her knees as the other nuns left quietly, the sounds of the rustling of robes and soft patter of shoes creating a soothing music to her ears. She waited, knowing that Sister Margaretta would pause by her as she always did before making her own exit. She regretted that Sister Margaretta was worried about her, but she could not bring herself to confide in her. She had to find her own way to make peace with God… and with herself. After a brief moment, the sound of footsteps resumed and gently receded into the distance. She continued to listen until she could hear and feel the silence and the cavernous solitude moving in to surround her.

Certain that she was alone now, Maria opened her eyes and looked toward the altar. The brass candlesticks were still lit, and their flames danced in the dimness of the early morning light. She stared at the flames, watching as each small movement of air sent them this way and that, now flaring, now dying down… the swirls of lingering incense joining in the dance. She breathed in deeply, silently bidding the familiar sweet smell to comfort her, and she tried to let her spirit join in the freedom and fluidity of the dance. She stared for a long time, long enough for her knees and back to begin to ache. Ignoring the pain, she continued to stare… but at length she had to reconcile herself to the knowledge that this morning, there would be no dance for her.

Closing her eyes once more, she softly uttered the words that she repeated every morning, over and over, until she was able to find a small semblance of peace. She did not voice her unhappiness… she did not voice her thoughts… she did not voice her questions. She simply knelt and called upon the Lord.

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.

- SOM -

"Thank you, Maria. Now… if you would prepare the tea for the midday meal?"

Maria smiled at Sister Catherine and nodded, eager to help in any way. She set the water to heat and began arranging teacups on a large tray. Because of her vow of silence, she was unable to assist with the teaching ministry of the Abbey. But she was not one to be idle when not in prayer, and had sought out every possible way to be of use. She had found the kitchen to be particularly suitable and had been welcomed enthusiastically. She liked being in the kitchen. It was by no means modern, having been built so long ago, but it was warm and comforting. She did her work mindfully, careful not to let her thoughts wander, considering it another form of prayer. It was another source of quiet joy for her.

It had been so easy to fall back into the rhythm of life at the Abbey. Prayers, meals, assisting with the work of the Abbey… living a life of contemplation and service. It was a simple life, but a rich life all the same. There was happiness to be found in it. Maria treasured the feeling of being home again, where she was safe.

Of being home again…

Maria paused as she set down a cup, frowning, the image of another home appearing suddenly in her mind. She shook her head forcibly, trying to wipe away the image before it had a chance to grow, before it pushed everything else to the recesses of her mind. Before the longing for it could take hold of her. The sound of teacups clinking against each other brought her attention back to her task. She inspected the cups carefully, hands shaking slightly, and was relieved not to find any new chips. She returned to the work that lay before her, determined to maintain her focus. She told herself that she was at the Abbey now. This was her home.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the Sisters watching her. Feeling her body stiffen, she nonetheless bent to her task, working carefully and deliberately, hoping her movements appeared calm, willing the tremor out of her hands. Only when she sensed that she was no longer being watched was she able to breathe normally again. She was trying so hard, but she was still unable to rid herself of the images that seemed to arise so unpredictably, at the most unexpected times. She was still unable to rid herself of everything those images did to her. But she would not give up trying. She could not give up.

Once she finished assembling the cups, Maria walked across the kitchen to the pantry to select the tea she would need.

"Maria? What is that you're humming?"

Startled, Maria turned to her left. Sister Berthe was standing just inside the kitchen doorway, grinning broadly. Humming? What was she talking about? She hadn't been humming! She had taken a vow of silence, she could not possibly have been humming. And even if she had been, Sister Berthe would be the last person to be happy about it. Humming? What could Sister Berthe be…

Hmm… hmmm… hmm… The melody blared in her mind, and the realization that she had indeed been absentmindedly humming that particular melody shocked and confused her. And then suddenly it was not just a melody but a full orchestra playing, and she was dancing under the stars again, with him…

She twisted and turned, her right arm behind her back, his arm wrapped around her and pulling her toward him… and she went willingly, following as she had for every step since she had joined in the dance with him, moving together with him…

So close now…he had never touched her before, and now… now she could feel his breath on her cheek and on her lips, could feel everywhere he touched her, could feel the absence of his touch everywhere else… she saw… she felt…and there was nowhere else she wanted to be except within these arms, nothing else she wanted to see except this face and these eyes that were looking into hers as if there was no one else…she saw… she felt… oh, it was…she could no longer hear the music for the pounding in her ears… she saw… she felt…it was racing through her, raging through her, flaring and swirling uncontrollably, the unfamiliar smell so familiar and right and intoxicating… she saw… she felt… her breath coming faster, her skin warming… she saw… she felt…

"Maria? Child, are you all right?"

Maria turned her head slowly, hearing a voice in the far distance. Sister Berthe. Yes. Sister Berthe was saying something. Confusion still raging within her, unable to focus, she nodded slowly.

"My dear, you're pale as a sheet. Perhaps a glass of water?"

Maria saw the genuine look of concern but was numb to it. Silently, she shook her head. Away. She had to get away. She could not breathe, could not think. She needed air, distance, quiet. Without another look at Sister Berthe, Maria walked quickly to the pantry, her body moving without her being able to feel it, as if it belonged to someone else. She kept waiting to hear Sister Berthe's voice calling out behind her, after having left her so abruptly.

When she reached the pantry without interference, she raised a silent prayer of thanks. What could she have said to Sister Berthe in reply? She was suddenly grateful for her vow of silence. If she'd had to speak, how could she have even begun to explain to Sister Berthe what had happened? How could she explain to herself what had happened? Feeling dizzy, she put out a hand to steady herself. She felt close to tears, and was not even sure what the tears were for. Because she also felt close to feeling something else… but that was something she could not allow herself to feel, that she'd been pushing back since she'd returned to the Abbey. She waited for the dizziness to pass, for the emotions to settle down…

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.

The words of the simple prayer she had repeated so many times calmed and steadied her, giving her the support she needed. She pushed away from the wall and selected the tea for the midday meal. Hot water, tea, cups, service, prayer… Maria told herself firmly that she would find happiness and peace in the service of God and the Abbey.

As she walked back through the kitchen, she noted with both surprise and relief that Sister Berthe had left without even suggesting that she kiss the floor for who knew what reason. The thought came as a welcome antidote, counteracting all that she had been feeling just moments before. Only now, instead of struggling against tears, she suddenly found herself struggling against an almost overwhelming urge to laugh aloud, most indecorously. She felt her face turn red from the strain, and still the laugh threatened to erupt. Without thinking, she bit down on her tongue.

The sudden taste of salty blood shocked her; she had not intended to bite down so hard. But it was a welcome shock; it helped her to compose herself. After wiping away the tear that had leaked out of the corner of her eye, she glanced quickly at the other nuns and was grateful to see that no one had seemed to notice anything. In fact, they were all working peacefully. She looked into their faces and was nearly overwhelmed once more, this time with a feeling of such affection and admiration for the nuns that it brought her to the brink of tears yet again.

What was happening to her? No. No! Whatever it was, this could not keep happening. It was madness, and she refused to let it rule her. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she turned her gaze away from the nuns and refocused on the work she still needed to do. She had to regain control of herself, of her treacherous emotions. She could not continue this way. This would not keep happening.

She set the tea down on the counter and turned off the stove. She poured the boiling water into several teapots, listening to the sound of the water as she poured. She filled each one to the same level. Then she added the tea and left it alone, giving it time to steep. She fiddled with the teacups until they were perfectly aligned. By the time she had finished, she was calm again. She looked at the arrangement and was satisfied. Everything was in order.

Hot water, tea, cups, service, prayer… peace.

- SOM -

Maria completed her prayers and pushed wearily against the pew in front of her, sliding onto the seat of her own pew. She wriggled her shoulders, pressed her hands against the back of her waist, and stretched out her back. She had been in the same position for hours, since the midday meal, and her muscles were protesting loudly.

Despite the aches, she found herself smiling, and she realized that she felt lighter than she had for some time. She had been more devoted, more focused in her prayer, and something had happened. She had still failed to dance with the flames, but for a brief moment, she had felt… something. It had only been for a moment, and she was not entirely certain what it was, but she felt that it had begun to loosen the knot that had been so tightly coiled inside her since… since that night. Perhaps it was a small thing, but it had been enough to give her hope.

Sinking back into the pew, she sighed deeply. Who would have thought just months ago that she could be capable of the discipline she had so recently embraced? Certainly no one at the Abbey, least of all herself. She remembered the many times she'd come running back to the Abbey at top speed, always late for something or other. How much trouble she'd been!

She had to admit that she had never been particularly fond of rules and order and discipline. She respected those things, and she tried hard, but she had often asked herself why it was so difficult for her to follow them sometimes.

"Perhaps if you go out into the world for a time, knowing what we expect of you, you will have a chance to find out if you can expect it of yourself."

So clearly did she hear Reverend Mother's words that she turned around, half expecting to see the Abbess standing behind her. She turned back, rolling her eyes at herself. She was just being silly, her imagination running away with her. But the words continued to resound in her mind… had she lived up to what was expected of her, to what she expected of herself? She considered it seriously, remembering the times she had spent with the children in lessons, in play, in song. She may have made some mistakes, but she truly believed that she had done her best for them, had given them her best. She had fulfilled her role as governess. And she had loved them. She loved them still. Those memories would always bring her happiness. No, she could not regret anything she had done.

But the Captain… she had made more mistakes with the Captain. His manner toward the children had upset her from her very first day in the house. She still remembered her shock when he'd pulled out that whistle, the frustration she'd felt when he'd continued to refuse to consider play clothes for the children, denying them their right to be children. And then there had been that heated argument by the lake. The memory of how defiant and angry she had been could still make her cheeks burn, although she believed that given the same circumstances, she would have done exactly the same thing all over again. She imagined that if Reverend Mother had seen that display, she would not have been pleased. She had been too insistent with him, and had been far too outspoken with him when she'd had no right.

But… it had all turned out so well, hadn't it? And the memory of him embracing his children still warmed her. She thought she had seen the moment when something different had come over his countenance, an expression she had never seen in him before. It was when he had heard the children singing, when he had turned his head. She had been looking at his face, and even in profile she had been able to see the change, had seen some invisible barrier lowering. She had stared, transfixed, until he'd entered the house, not yet understanding the change… and not understanding why she'd been so captivated. And then he had changed his manner, had become the father the children needed, had come alive…

Her cheeks were burning again, but no longer from the memory of her display of defiance and anger. The Baroness had told her that the Captain had noticed her. Not until this moment had she realized how much she had noticed him.

She felt the pounding beneath the trembling hand she had unknowingly brought up to her chest. She kept it there until her heart slowed, then lowered her hand to her side. She reminded herself that despite her confusion, she had not betrayed her calling. She had been frightened, was still frightened, but she had done the right thing in leaving. She was safe here at the Abbey. And she had surprised herself, discovering that the rules and order and discipline of the Abbey could become good friends, even allies. A solace. She was determined to take her vows as soon as Reverend Mother allowed it, right here in this chapel. She could imagine a peaceful life praying alongside the other nuns, doing God's work. And she could see herself being content. A door had closed, and a window had opened. This was her home.

With that firmly decided, she prepared to leave, knowing she had remained much longer than she had planned. She wondered what time it was; she thought it might be best to go straight to the kitchen, perhaps join in the preliminary preparations for supper. With another sigh escaping her, she pushed herself off the pew… and immediately sank back down, groaning loudly. Feeling the ache in knees that had been sorely abused day after day, more so on this day, she rubbed and kneaded them gently until the pain eased. Feeling older than Sister Catherine, she chuckled to herself and decided she would let her knees determine when it was time to get up.

After straightening and bending her knees a few times, she felt confident enough to stand. She looked one more time toward the altar and the flames, then genuflected as she left her pew and made her way toward the chapel doors.

"…say goodbye…"

"…I know…"

Maria stopped just inside the open doorway. Those voices… they had sounded like… No, it wasn't possible, she must have imagined it. Her mind was playing tricks on her yet again. She resumed walking through the chapel doorway, blinking against the bright sunlight, pausing to give her eyes a few moments to adjust after having been in the candlelit chapel for so long.

The sound of young voices all speaking over one another slammed into her, stopping her in her tracks. Immediately alert and feeling an instant excitement building, she strained to listen, trying to make out the individual voices. But they were all speaking at once, and she couldn't distinguish one voice from another. Could it be the children? Before she knew it, she was several steps past the doorway and was about to break into a run. She stopped and forced herself to be still. She could not let herself run about as she used to. But it might be the children… she saw their faces so clearly, felt their embrace, heard their laughter as if they were with her…

But no, it couldn't be. Already the voices had faded completely. She strained to listen again, her head turned toward the sounds she had heard, but there were no young voices being carried in the air. Nor did the air carry the rich baritone voice that she still heard every day, despite all of her efforts. She heard only the sounds of the nuns in the courtyard. She felt a rush of bitter disappointment that she quickly dampened. She must have been mistaken. I had only been the traces of another time, another life… traces of another ache, another pain. She told herself that the traces would fade, eventually.

Deciding not to waste any more time, Maria strode away from the chapel, walking briskly toward the kitchen. There was no need to stand about idly, with no purpose. There was work to be done.

- SOM -

The tap of a hand on her shoulder startled her, making her jump. She dropped the pot she'd been scrubbing, which clanged loudly against another pot in the sink. Soapy water splashed over the front of her habit. She drew back, hands dripping wet, and looked over her shoulder.

"Maria, I'm dreadfully sorry. I should have spoken, called out your name. I did not mean to startle you. Are you all right?"

Maria had been so absorbed in washing the pots that she hadn't heard Sister Margaretta's approach. She nodded her response as she grabbed a kitchen towel and dabbed at the suds on her habit. Fortunately, she was not drenched. But Sister Margaretta looked so concerned that Maria stopped what she was doing and took her hand, squeezing it lightly in a silent gesture of reassurance. She was rewarded when she saw Sister Margaretta's face clear, a smile replacing the worried frown.

"Thank you, dear. Now as to the reason for my rude interruption… I'm here on an errand; Reverend Mother has sent me to find you and bring you to her. She would like to speak with you."

Maria's heart sank… and at the same time, she felt relieved. She had known the time would come when she would have to speak with Reverend Mother, but she had hoped to feel more ready. She had always intended to go to her, when she had sorted through the turmoil and had fully recommitted herself to religious life. Although she was determined about the path she had chosen, she knew she still too easily and too frequently unnerved by intruding memories and feelings. She was not ready. But perhaps with her wisdom, Reverend Mother would be able to help her clear up the confusion. Perhaps it was better to see her now. In any case, she had no choice. She had been summoned.

She nodded at Sister Margaretta, letting her know that she would comply. She finished drying herself and looked for Sister Catherine, to show her that she was leaving. But there was no need; Sister Catherine was standing nearby, perhaps having been drawn by the commotion of the pots.

"Don't worry about the pots and dishes. Someone else will be assigned. May God go with you, Maria."

Maria felt so grateful for the warmth all of the Sisters had shown her since her return. It was as if they sensed how much she needed it, and all of them, without exception, had given it to her generously. She smiled at Sister Catherine, wanting to pour her gratitude into her expression, and hoped Sister Catherine would understand. But she maintained her silence; that would only be broken in Reverend Mother's hearing.

As she left the kitchen and walked beside Sister Margaretta to Reverend Mother's office, she was suddenly filled with doubts. Would she be able to tell her everything? Would she be able to explain to her what was troubling her, what was torturing her? But even as the questions formed, she knew that she would bare her heart to Reverend Mother, and she would trust in her guidance. She could not be alone with this anymore.

The walk passed more quickly than Maria could have imagined. She was already approaching the door to Reverend Mother's office, and despite the fact that she had already made the decision to speak her heart, she was suddenly filled with anxiety again. She looked to Sister Margaretta, who looked concerned. Maria had no idea what was in her own expression, but Sister Margaretta embraced her, holding her close.

"God bless you, my child. Trust in Reverend Mother. And trust in God."

Maria held her tightly, grateful for the simple, gentle words. Sister Margaretta released her with a final squeeze of her shoulders, walked to the office door and knocked.

"Ave."

A havoc of emotions flooded her when she heard the sound of Reverend Mother's voice. Maria clasped her hands together, then released them and picked at her thumbnail, an old childhood habit. Sister Margaretta opened the door. Maria didn't spare a glance to see who left the office, walking right by her. She was too anxious about the meeting.

"Yes, bring her in."

Maria took a deep breath and walked hesitantly into the office, her eyes fixed on Reverend Mother. She paused as she entered, unsure of herself. But Reverend Mother did not stand back waiting. She walked toward her and met her where she stood, holding out her hand. As she approached, Maria saw nothing but kindness and love in her face. Heartened by the sight, she knelt, covered Reverend Mother's hand with both of hers, and laid her head on their joined hands.

Trust in Reverend Mother. Trust in God.

Maria was ready to speak.