She had run out of coherent prayer by the time Sister Julienne found her in the frontmost pew of the chapel. Was simply sitting, feeling, eyes closed, when she felt a hand slip into hers. Her brow knit with emotion as they sat together in silence.
"Sister." Shelagh felt herself squirm under the sister's lovingly expectant gaze. "Sister Monica Joan let me in."
"My dear, you are more than welcome here, whenever you wish."
"I don't mean to be a burden on you."
"Shelagh," Sister Julienne said, choosing her words carefully, "there was a time when I sat in this seat and watched you in pain, unable to confide in me. It was an experience I don't wish to repeat. You need not feel obligated, but, should you wish to unburden yourself, I would be grateful if I could be of assistance."
"You've given me so much," said Shelagh. "I'm almost ashamed to be so in need of your comfort. I thought, after everything, that I'd be stronger, or happier than this."
"Everyone is in need of comfort, and love." The familiar touch of Sister Julienne's hand once more, and Shelagh's face crumpled in confusion and self-doubt.
"I worry that my love is not needed, that it has nowhere to go. Or is somehow deficient."
"Oh, Shelagh–"
"In the religious life, I thought I knew what love looked like, but now… the picture is blurred, somehow."
"Do you doubt the path you chose?"
Shelagh fingered her cross. "No. But I do miss the certainty I felt." She felt the stiff fabric of the sister's habit, splayed out over the cool wooden bench. "I love Timothy like a son, but–" A deep breath.
"Last night, Patrick and I were interviewed by the adoption agency, and, though I love him, too, for the first time I'm not sure I know my own husband." Sister Julienne's expression urged her on. "Sister, there are things he kept from me, about his past."
Sister Julienne nodded. "Dr. Turner has lived through much. I'm sure it cannot be easy to bear."
"No," Shelagh pursed her lips, blinking. "But how can I help him? How can we nurture love in our home, if we're closed to one another?"
She fell into the sister's offered arms, inhaling the familiar starchy scent. Sister Julienne glanced skyward, summoning language with which to comfort her friend. "Love can be–complicated, even divine love. And it is not always synonymous with joy." She pulled away to look Shelagh in the eyes. "But I have never questioned the truth of your relationship, or the love that surrounds you both."
Shelagh swiped a handkerchief across her eyes.
"Give yourselves time."
"Yes."
"Your love will find a way ahead," said Sister Julienne, giving her arm a final squeeze and rising from the bench. "In the meantime, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner."
"Thank you, Sister, but I think," Shelagh rose, "I hope, I'll be wanted at home."
Sister Julienne smiled. "I'm sure of it."