A/N: Good evening everyone! We want to thank you all for your support with this new fic. It means so much to us! Have a nice weekend and a good reading. And don't forget to let us know what you think ;) Thank you!

Disclaimer: Same as chapter 1.

Blessed ~ Chapter 2

x

The best way to find yourself

Is to lose yourself

In the service of others,

~ Mahatma Gandhi

x

The first day.

It appeared John had been left on his own. He had seen no one since a sister, whose name he didn't recall, had brought him his tea around mid-afternoon, and although it seemed they weren't ready to let him starve, he decided that, as soon as the dinner bell rang he would make his way to the dining hall

At the moment, after removing his jacket and making himself comfortable, he was looking out of one of the two large windows, standing with his legs slightly apart, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, just taking in the beautiful view. Terence had shown him the black and white snapshots, but nothing could compare to this. The Blessed Virgin Orphanage seemed to be a lovely place, a place that should be an example for all Church establishments, although John was sure, not many of them were run as well. This was to Fr Benedict's, and in no small part, he suspected Sr Mary Madeleine's credit. What he didn't know yet was that most of this splendour was just a facade. Within these walls, there were things that needed to be changed and dramatically changed.

Ah, Sr Madeleine. Their first meeting had not gone as he had hoped, but they would iron things out, he was sure. She was probably just feeling her role here was being threatened. And why wouldn't she? That was natural. Yes, things would come right in the end, after all, they both wanted what was best for the children.

'Watch out for that vase…' A loud voice from outside the door broke his reverie. John went to investigate.

'Goddammit, Alf! I told you to be careful!'

A middle-aged man, dressed in cover-alls was scolding his younger helper, who was gyrating wildly to catch a vase spinning through the air. A second later, it crashed to the tiled floor.

'Holy Mother of God! She's not going to be happy about this. Alf, you clumsy son of a... '

The older man stopped his tirade when he saw John standing in the doorway. 'Oh shit...I mean, sorry Father...it's just this lad tries my last nerve some days.' At that, he wiped off his hand on his front and held it out in greeting. 'Isaiah Rivers, caretaker, at your service.'

John shook the caretaker's hand. 'Fr John Bates. Very pleased to meet you, Isaiah, if I may call you that.'

'Of course, you can, Father. Sister Madeleine said you wanted a bed to put in the storage room. Was I hearing her right? You're going to be sleeping in a storage room when you have that fancy bedroom upstairs?'

'Yes. I'm a humble man of God, Isaiah. I would never rest easy in that room, and I have everything I require right here, or I will have as soon as we get this bed set up.' John stepped aside to let the men enter.

Isaiah, cocked his head, eyeing John up and down, taking in his cane as he did so. 'Well, you sure got her riled up, right enough. Good! Maybe she won't notice that vase Alf broke. That's Alf, by the way,' he said, nodding in the direction of the hapless lad.

'Afternoon, Father. Sorry about the vase. These things happen to me all the time,' the young man said.

'You got that right,' Isaiah muttered under his breath.

'Not to worry, son. If we get it cleaned up quick, maybe she won't even notice,' John encouraged, resting a hand on Alf's skinny shoulder. 'She won't hear it from me,' he said with a conspiratorial wink.

It was then that Mr Rivers and Alf both decided this new Father was a good egg.

xxx

'Molly says the baby goats are just the right age for petting now,' Anna mentioned as they reached the rise in the lane, 'I might take the little ones up to the farm tomorrow afternoon or maybe Monday if the weather holds.'

'I'd go with you, but I promised Mum I'd visit my Aunt Rita with her for two days. Believe me; I'd rather be petting stinky goats,' grumped Jane.

'Goats don't stink! They're adorable,' defended Anna.

'They smell better than Aunt Rita; I'll give you that,' quipped Jane.

Anna linked her arm with her friend's, 'Aw, my poor Janie. I'm sure you'll survive. How bad can Aunt Rita be?'

'You don't want to know. Trust me on this.'

Anna and Jane had decided to take a walk after tea, as the day was beautiful and sometimes they just needed to get away from the watchful eye of Sister Mary Madeleine. For the most part, she was tolerable, but since Fr Benedict had left she had been in a terribly foul mood, sniping at anyone who so much as looked her way, so most people avoided her like the plague.

They continued walking arm in arm in silence for a time, and soon they were approaching The Blessed Virgin. As they neared the front of the building, they could see Father John standing at his office window. He smiled and waved at them.

'Do you suppose she has him locked in the room?' Jane joked, and she and Anna both waved back to him.

'Oh Jane, I wouldn't put it past her,' Anna sighed, 'But maybe we should have invited him to join us on our walk. He seems so nice, and I do want him to be happy here. Does that sound silly?'

Jane considered what Anna said, 'No, not at all. I want him to be happy here too.'

xxx

John rubbed his hands together, feeling quite accomplished. After setting up the bed, Isaiah and Alf returned with his wardrobe. It was small, but he didn't have many personal belongings. There were already several decent sized hooks sticking out from the wall at the end of the room: these would serve well to hang his two suits and pressed dress shirts on. Everything else could be folded and put in drawers, and his vestments would be stored in a small room behind the chapel. Mr Rivers had even found him a kneeler. He would hang a cross above it and put it to good use after dinner when he returned to his room.

'Father? You still around?' Alf called from the door of the office.

'Yes, son. I'm back here. You can come in.'

'Here,' Alf said, holding out a small toolbox. 'Mr Rivers told me you might need this, in case you had any pictures 'n such to hang.

"I don't, not of my own, but I wonder if Sister would object to me moving that copy of the painting, The Tears of Saint Peter, by El Greco from the office to in here? It speaks to me. I believe I'd like it hanging over my bed. What do you think, Alf?'

Alf just stammered an answer, surprised this new Father was even asking his opinion. No one had ever done that before.

'Well,' John smiled, sensing the young man's uneasiness. 'Let's take the risk, shall we? It's quite large. Could you help me get it down and rehung, son?'

Alf hesitated and took a step back, 'Uh...Father, that might not be such a good idea. Maybe you should wait for Mr Rivers to help. You've seen how I…'

'Oh, you'll do fine. Let's go get it.'

A few minutes later, John was standing back admiring the beautiful, but heartbreaking painting. 'That's perfect! What do you think, Alf?'

'Uh, I think I couldn't sleep with that over my bed. He looks so sad.'

'And do you know why he's sad?'

Alf shook his head, 'No.'

John stared at the painting for a long time, his hands folded in front of him. 'You see how Saint Peter's eyes glisten with tears? That's because he has denied Our Lord. He's deeply sorrowful and grieving for his sin, and he lifts his eyes to heaven, seeking forgiveness.'

'That's heavy, Father.'

John lowered his head and turned from Alf then, 'Yes,' he said slowly, '...yes, it is.'

xxx

Half five. That was enough time for a shower before dinner; John thought as he stepped into the tiny bathroom and pulled aside the shower curtain. He stood there contemplating the minuscule shower, and he groaned. There was no way. How had the famously fat Fr Benedict fit in here? Well, he hadn't, John decided, not in recent years anyway. He had used his elegant en suite with a tub probably the size of a small swimming pool.

He turned sideways and sucked in his belly to enter, but once through the opening, there was more room than he thought there would be. He might be hard-pressed to get his hands above his head, but it was doable. Still, John didn't relish getting stuck and having to be extracted from his shower on the first night. Sister Madeleine would think he was getting his just desserts, and no doubt he was when he had a perfectly good bathroom upstairs. No shower before dinner, just a wash-up and a shave, and maybe a clean shirt and collar.

xxx

John spent the next twenty minutes exploring the drawers of his huge desk. He determined, with a chuckle, if ever his bed wasn't big enough he could pile blankets on the desktop and be quite comfortable. Then he moved on to a large, ornate floor to ceiling cabinet. He stood before it with his hands on his hips, looking up and shaking his head.

Such a waste, he thought. No man is worthy of all these...material things.

John opened it's sturdy center doors by turning a key in the lock, to be greeted with a fully stocked bar and fine crystal glasses of every shape and size. He was at a loss. There had to be more to the story behind of Fr Benedict's retirement; he was sure of that. Why would a man leave even his liquor behind? And his books? Some rare and old. Well, Terence would benefit from this particular stash. John simply wanted it out of here. He turned the key, relocking the cabinet. Now what to do with it? The empty safe was standing open. He placed the key inside and shut the door, hoping Sister Madeleine had the combination.

He still had half an hour before the dinner bell, so he opened a random drawer of the file cabinet, the 'K' drawer, and grabbing a handful of file folders, he sat down at his desk.

xxx

Sister Mary Madeleine caught up with Sister Mary Louise as she was about to ring the dinner bell.

'Wait! Before you do that, make up a tray for Father. I don't want him coming to the dining hall tonight.'

'Why not? You're not going to make him dine alone, are you?' asked Sr Louise.

'Yes, I am. One night won't kill him. I don't want him meeting any of the children until they're presented to him at Mass tomorrow. He should meet them when they're at their best, not when they're shoveling food in their faces.'

'But he's been shut in his office practically since he got here,' Sr Louise tried to object.

'He's been settling into that God-forsaken broom closet he's chosen to sleep in. He's probably enjoyed the solitude I've allowed him. Now go. Do what I ask before he comes looking for his dinner, and don't question me.' Sister shooed her on her way.

Sr Louise didn't like it, but she had no choice but to oblige.

xxx

John leaned back in his chair with a sigh, removing his readers and pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd been studying the sad file of nine-year-old Jeremy Kent. Jeremy's future seemed as bleak as his past.

When the boy was barely five, his father had shot his mother and then turned the gun on himself. After spending a year in another orphanage, he was sent to The Blessed Virgin. John had read some of the teachers and sisters notes:

Little Jeremy has just arrived. He'll not be an easy case. He's retreated and grown a hard shell, but with time and plenty of love, I believe we'll be able to help him. - Anna Smith, teacher - April 1953

And another from just last year:

Incorrigible, he feels everyone is his enemy, strikes out at others, resistant to corporal punishment. And he refuses to comb his hair. I recommend he be transferred to a different institution. - Sr Mary Madeleine - December 1955

This would require some looking into, John thought, deciding he needed to talk to Miss Smith about the boy, just to see how she felt about the situation three years on.

'Father,' a soft voice called through the door. 'Sister Madeleine has sent me with your dinner tray, Father.'

John threw his head back with a groan. No, this would not do. He made his way to the door and opened it to see a friendly looking nun with a fully-loaded tray held out to him. 'Sister, uh…'

'Mary Louise, Father.'

'Of course. I apologise, I'm horrible with names,' he smiled, resisting the urge to say that all nuns looked the same to him. 'This really wasn't necessary. I told Sister Madeleine I'd be eating with everyone in the dining hall.'

'I know, Father, and I'm sorry, but she insisted. She doesn't want you to meet any of the children until they can be properly introduced tomorrow after Mass. And when Sister insists, well…' Sr Louise look up at him, hoping he would understand, even when she, herself didn't see the sense in it.

'She has something special planned, doesn't she?' John asked, cringing inwardly.

Sr Louise nodded and shrugged her shoulders.

'Well, that's fine. Yes, that will be nice,' he said with a kind smile as he took the tray from her. It was heavy with good food, as was his tea tray earlier. 'I can see no one is trying to starve me. Thank you, Sr Louise, for your trouble.'

The Sister nodded and turned to leave when John called out, 'From here on out I'll be eating all of my meals in the dining hall. Will that be a problem?'

'No, Father. That would be very nice, indeed. Have a pleasant evening, Father,' and with that, she left.

John set his tray on the desk, closed the Kent file, said his prayers and ate.

xxx

The next morning.

It was a small chapel and tightly packed with fifty some children, the five nuns and three of the four teachers. Isaiah Rivers and his helper, Alf and a couple of others he hadn't met yet.

Father John had just said his first Mass at The Blessed Virgin and had resumed his place in the Presider's Chair facing his congregation.

The Sister gave the children their cue, and they all stood from their seats of first four pews. In turn, they introduced themselves to their new Father and under the direction of Sister Mary Madeleine, sang their well-practiced song, Jesus, Our Redeemer.

When they had finished, John rose from his chair and walked down the two steps, into the nave to stand before the children. He blessed each and every child, then stepped back, motioning them to take their seats, but rather than returning to the Sanctuary, he chose to sit himself down on the steps leading to it. This caused Sister Madeleine to sit straighter in the pew. What on earth was he doing now?

John took his time allowing his eyes to take in everyone. He nodded to Sister Louise and at the handyman and his apprentice, way in the back. He smiled when his eyes met Miss Smith. She lowered her gaze, but he could tell she was smiling too. From his left, John heard Sister Madeleine clear her throat, impatient to get on with it. She would have to wait. He would only meet his new flock for the first time once. He would not be rushed.

He grinned at the rows of children and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. 'Well, now that we've been introduced, and entertained, are there any questions you would like to ask me? Anything at all? Ah, you son, and please tell me what your name is again.'

John nodded to a young boy in the second row waving his hand unrestrainedly in the air. He appeared to be around eleven or twelve.

'I'm Kevin. Where did you get that stick?'

'Oh, this?' Father John wrapped his hand around the dark wooden crook of the cane and positioned it between his legs. 'Well, I was wounded in the war.'

'You were in the war, sir?'

'You may call me Father, Kevin. Father John,' he said softly. 'I was, yes. I was a Chaplain in the war.'

'Did you meet Hitler?'

'Did you kill Hitler?' Another boy, Robbie asked, excitedly.

'Don't be silly, Rob. Hitler killed himself; everyone knows that.' Mike, a lad with coal black hair and eyes, elbowed Robbie in the ribs.

'That's what they want us to believe. I ain't buying it. I bet he was killed by a brave British soldier! I know I would kill him, with my bare hands, I would.'

John held up his hand to stop this, 'All right, no, I didn't meet Hitler, and I certainly didn't kill him. I'm sure you've all covered WW2 in your history lessons, but maybe we could form a study group for any of you who want to learn more if you're interested' This idea set well with the older boys.

'Now, are there any more questions, other than the war and why I have a stick? Oh, you there, with the pretty red hair. I'm sorry I don't know your names yet, but I'll work hard on learning them, I promise. What's your question?

The girl, who looked to be eight years old, was seated at the end of the fourth pew next to Anna, who had encouraged her to stand. She was being shy, and when she looked back, Anna nodded her head, encouraging her to speak.

'Alice, Father John. M...my question is; do you have a girlfriend?'

Nervous giggles erupted from the congregation.

'Good Lord! Are you daft, child? That's not something to ask a priest!.' Sister Madeleine stood from her seat and was intent on heading back to little Alice and ushering her out.

John chuckled motioning Sister to sit, which she did reluctantly. He noticed Anna had her hand to her mouth, in an effort to stifle her own laugh. 'It's all right, Sister Madeleine, she didn -'

'It most certainly is not all right at all! You will be staying in today, Alice.'

'But Alice only arrived with us last week. She doesn't understand the church yet, Sister Madeleine.' Anna put her arm around the horribly embarrassed little girl, comforting her. 'Darling, priests don't have girlfriends, they can't.'

'Why?'

Anna turned to look at Father, to see if he was going to help her out on this. It didn't appear he was. 'Well, um...you see, just like teachers take a vow to teach children, priest's vow not to have girlfriends or to get married so their private life won't interfere with their um...Godly life. Priests are married to the church and the well-being of their congregation. Do you understand?'

'No. Yes…I guess.'

'That's my good girl, we'll talk more about it if you want too,' Anna said softly, glancing up at John. He was looking at her intently and nodded as if to say, Nicely done.

'Well,' John slapped his knees and pushed himself up off the steps. 'It's a beautiful day God has blessed us with. And I want every one of you out there enjoying it.' He made a point of looking at little Alice and winking. 'Now let me say the final benediction and you can go drink in that sunshine.'

xxx

'I'm thinking of signing up for that study group on the WW2, if it happens,' Pamela made this remark as she and her girlfriends lolled on the grass under the shade of a large Beech tree. The weather was glorious, the sun warm and gentle, and a soothing breeze blew with the scent of lilacs and honeysuckle.

'Why on earth? You don't even like history.' Judith stared at her with a confused frown. 'In fact, you hate history.'

'Wise up, little Jude.' Brenda teased with a giggle. 'She's doing it just because she wants to spend time looking at Father John.'

'Shut up!' Pamela stuck her tongue out at her friend.

'Am I lying?'

'Well...he's so handsome, isn't he?' Pamela squealed and hid her face behind her hands. 'He looks like such a romantic figure, so tall and...his eyes.'

'I saw your eyes when he was blessing you,' Cynthia said, sitting up to look toward the building. 'You turned as red as a tomato!'

'Stop, I did not!'

'Well, who could blame her? 'When he touched my hair I nearly fainted,' Karen confessed.

'And his smile…' Brenda said with a sigh.

'And his voice,' Pamela added.

'What about his hair?' Judith threw her arms around her body, laughing with her friends.

'What a waste.' Karen groaned as she leaned against the tree trunk sucking on a blade of sweet grass.

'What do you mean?' Pamela asked.

'A waste of a man, that's what I mean. He can't marry; he can't have a girlfriend. It's such a sad waste.' Karen shook her head in disappointment.

'She's right, you know,' Cynthia nodded, wrapping the end of her ponytail around her index finger and trying to see if she could spot the new director through the window of his office.

'I've heard stories of priests who quit because they fall in love, there's still hope.' Pamela said, smiling.

'And when you turn eighteen he'll suddenly look at you and say 'Pamela, my darling, I think I'm in love! Marry me.' Karen joked, bringing her hands to her heart and feigning a quite dramatic faint.

'You are so stupid, Karen.' Pamela disdained her friend's humour.

'How old do you think he is?' Brenda asked the others.

'Hmm...he looks like forty maybe?' Cynthia replied.

'Thirty-nine, I think.' Judith said.

'What's the difference?' Karen asked, confused.

'Well, it doesn't sound so bad, that way. How old is that handsome priest? Oh, he's thirty-nine. Oh, all right. Now, if you say, Oh, he's forty, Oh my God! Forty is like your dad!' Judith answered.

'She's right, you know,' Pamela nodded. 'That one year counts a lot.'

'Yeah…' they all voiced in unison.

'Do you think if I ask Miss Smith for one of her fashion magazine she'll let me read it?' Pamela wondered aloud.

'Of course she will, I've asked her before,' Judith smiled. She loved Miss Smith.

'Why do you want a fashion magazine?' Karen asked.

'Well, I want to look good, okay?' Pamela replied, brushing her long hair away from her face and behind her ears.

'For who?' Karen insisted.

'Yeah, which one?'

'James or Father John?

'Ugh! Stop it Karen! I don't like James,' Pamela insisted.

'So, for Father John then?' Brenda teased.

'Just stop it!'

'Lord!' Cynthia gasped, looking at her friends with big eyes. 'Oh my God, don't be too obvious, but he's at his window. Now don't be obvious!'

But not being obvious and teenage girls don't walk side by side, and as soon as Cynthia spoke they all looked at the window, spotting him.

'He sees us...he's looking right at us!' Judith gulped, and at that moment, they saw him waving at them.

'Oh my God, he's waving!' Pamela tried her best to keep her voice low, and slowly, calmly, as if they had just seen him by chance, they all waved back at him.

A moment after, he was gone, and then, being teenage girls, they all fell back onto the grass laughing.

xxx

Anna walked along the hall that led to Father John's office. In her hand, she carried a file which Sister Madeleine had asked her to find for him. After some long minutes of going through drawers, she had managed to do so.

Her steps echoed on the wooden floor, the click of her heels giving away the silence of the old building; everyone else was outside, as Father John had suggested.

When she reached his office door, she found it halfway open, as if inviting one to enter. This was in stark contrast to Fr Benedict, who rarely welcomed anyone other than Sr Madeleine into his inner sanctum. Indeed, there would be weeks at a time when it was rare to see him at all, other than at Mass, and when they felt his veiled eyes following them down the halls or up the staircases.

From Anna's vantage point, it was impossible not to spot Father John standing at the window, hands in his pockets, his back to her.

She noticed he had removed his jacket and waistcoat, and that his collar was sitting atop of his desk. Jane had called him a fine figure of a man, and indeed, he was. Tall and well built, broad shoulders, an imposing figure, the true image of someone who was in charge. And if her friend were here, she would be swooning over him and elbowing Anna in the ribs to make her point, saying, 'What a waste of a man. Handsome men should never become priests.'

'Father?' She called out before walking in, and she couldn't stop the smile erupting on her lips. There was something about this man that made her oddly happy, maybe the way he presented himself, maybe the energy he carried, whatever it was, Anna liked it.

'Oh, Miss Smith.' He turned around to face her, his eyes crinkled in an inviting grin, as he ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to draw away a lock that had fallen over his brow. 'Come in, please.'

'Sister Madeleine said you asked for this.' Anna said, handing him the file marked: Jeremy Kent.

'Oh, yes.' He took his glasses that were resting on his desk and set them on the tip of his nose, opening the file with a focused look. 'Thank you, Miss Smith.'

'You can call me Anna.'

The suggestion made him look up at her from over his lenses, with a smile. 'Would Sister Madeleine approve that?'

'Well, probably not.' Anna said with a giggle. 'She's the only one who calls me Miss Smith around here though, and the children.'

'And Father Benedict?'

'Oh yes, him too, but it was rare he called me anything at all. He wasn't very…we never really talked much. Honestly, we steered clear of him. Sister Madeleine made sure she was the one between Father and all the others.'

'That's not hard to believe,' John nodded. 'Maybe I can call you Anna whenever she isn't in earshot.' He winked at her then and for a moment, she didn't know what else to say. Her ears turned hot, and she was sure her cheeks were red, but to her luck, he was quick to go back to reading the first page of the file he had in his hands.

'Are you interested in Jeremy Kent, Father?' she asked him.

'I am. I've been reading his files and…' He walked over and closed the door, then motioned for her to sit down as he did the same. '...he seems to be a very troubled child.'

'Thank you...he really is troubled, poor boy, and he's so smart, you wouldn't believe it. He's afraid to grow fond of people, I think. He tries to avoid contact at any cost.'

'Not surprising, given what he's been through in his short life,' John sighed. 'He doesn't want to be betrayed again. He lost everyone he loved, in the most tragic way. And according to Sister's notes, he behaves badly?'

'Well…' Anna thought for a second. 'Sometimes he does.'

'Sometimes?'

'There are ways to handle a child like him and, unfortunately, some people don't know how.'

'Some people?' John eyed her with knowingly. 'That's true.'

'And Jeremy is the reason you spent most of your day cooped up in here, Father? I don't mean to preach, but Sunday is our day of rest.'

'Indeed, but it might not surprise you to know that Sunday is my busiest day,' John replied with a smile. 'I've been reading up on Jeremy and a couple of other children I want to take a special interest in and make sure they will be handled differently from now on. And you, Anna? What's your excuse for being inside on such a lovely day?' He looked at her with those gentle, hazel eyes that had charmed her the day before.

'I have one, and it was for a good reason.' Anna pointed to the folder now resting atop his desk.

'Oh, of course.' From the window, sun rays were beginning to travel their way to her, glistening against her skin. He noticed her dress then, the lightest shade of blue, and white, with a detailed band around her waist, and a full skirt. It suited her in the most perfect of ways.

'Are you from around here?' he spoke, closing the top two buttons of his shirt, suddenly feeling the need to put his collar back on. 'From Whitby?'

'I am,' she answered. 'Born and raised. I know every corner of this place like the palm of my hand.'

'You're lucky. It's a beautiful area. My friend, Terence, lives over in Middlesbrough. He goes on about it all the time. Now I know why.'

'Your friend, the Bishop?'

John nodded his head.

'I can show you around if you want, whenever you have the time. It'd be a pleasure,' Anna replied.

He looked up at her again, 'I might take you up on that offer soon.'

'And are you settling in well, Father?'

'I am rather. Better than I thought I would. I've never done anything like this before. I hope I'm up to the task. The Bishop seems to think I am.'

'For what it's worth, I think you are too. This is a wonderful place, compared to most orphanages I've heard about, don't get me wrong, but I've always believed change is good if you let it be,' Anna declared.

'Not everyone would agree with you, I'm afraid. I hope I don't let you down.'

His bedroom door was standing open and from her vantage point, Anna could see his small twin bed. She nodded toward the door, 'I've heard you didn't like the bedroom upstairs.'

'No, and Sister wasn't very pleased with me, either. It was just too much. I like to keep it simple,' he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.

'I peeked in one time when the nuns were cleaning. Father Benedict had extravagant tastes,' she said, casting her eyes around the office.

'Unfortunately, it carried into this office. But, I didn't want to push Sister too far my first day…' That earned him a big smile from her, and he couldn't help but answer the same. 'So tell me, Anna? What was Father Benedict like? I've asked Sister Madeleine but well, I would like to hear it from one of the teachers.'

'Um, he was…' Anna hesitated and chose her words carefully. '...a very traditional man.'

'I see…' He understood what she meant by that. A traditional man was one of the many words used to describe priests, and none ever came with a compliment.

'Sister Madeleine liked him, and everyone respected him. After so many years of being here, I thought he'd be here until the day he died. I'm sorry, that probably sounds terrible.'

'Did you like him?'he asked.

'As I said, I never really spoke to him. Only during confession.'

'You get to know a lot about the other person during confession,' John told her.

'Only if you're the priest.'

Her words made him laugh out loud. Before he could say something else, the office door was flung opened, and Sister Madeleine was walking in like a hurricane.

'Miss Smith! What are you doing here?'

Anna stood up at once. 'I couldn't find you, so I decided to bring the file to Father myself.'

'If you had waited I would have come for it,' Sister Madeleine raised her voice to the teacher. 'You shouldn't bother Father John-.'

'She isn't bothering me, my door is always open, to anyone,' John interrupted the nun. 'We were just having a very pleasant conversation. I want to get to know everyone who works here.'

'But I'm here to-.'

'You are here to see to the spiritual well-being of the children, and to help me when I need it.' John opened his eyes at the old woman, trying not to raise his voice. He was not a man to lose his temper easily, but there were things in life he wouldn't put up with, and rudeness was one of them.

'I'd better be going,' Anna said with an apologetic look. 'It was nice talking to you, Father.'

'I'll take you up on that tour soon, count on it,' he replied with a kind smile, trying to make her feel better.

xxx

Anna walked out of the office, closing the door behind her. His last words had made her feel a little better. She stopped at the bottom of the main stairway, thinking. He was so comfortable to be with, so kind and friendly. It was strange; they'd only met yesterday and yet Anna felt a connection like she'd never felt before, with anyone, much less a priest.

'Dreaming about that Prince Gordon of yours, Anna?' Susan, one of the other teacher, asked when she came upon her at the foot of the stairs.

Anna was taken by surprise. 'What?' She brought a hand to her chest. 'Oh, yes…of course, Gordon.'

'Who else, huh?' Susan giggled, continuing up the stairs.

But Anna had lied. 'Yeah, who else…?' she whispered to herself, glancing over her shoulder to the closed door at the end of the hall.

xxx

'I hope all the teachers are as nice as she is,' John remarked, leaning back in his chair.

'It depends on what you mean by nice.' Sister Madeleine practically spat out the words. 'She's engaged to be married. She'll be leaving soon.'

'Oh?' Sister Madeleine's announcement surprised him, but what startled him the most was the thud he felt in his heart and the disappoint that washed over him out of the blue. 'That's a shame,' he said, trying to shoo away those confusing feelings. '...the children seem to like her very much. She can still work here though-.'

'Would you allow it?' Sister Madeleine asked.

'Why not? Most teachers in our country are married women,' he reasoned.

'We are a Catholic orphanage.'

'So? Isn't she Catholic? There's nothing more Catholic than to get married,' he replied shortly before curiosity took the better of him. 'And when is the wedding?' He hadn't noticed a ring.

'Well, nearly. It's presumed.'

He eyed the old nun, trying to disguise the impatience he felt with this game of hers. 'You said she was engaged.'

'Not officially but everyone is expecting the announcement soon,' Sister said.

Why was she even doing this? Why had she told him about it in the first place? He felt her stare at him, almost as if watching his thoughts processing. Enough of this. 'All right, that's all, Sister. You can go now. And close the door on your way you.'

The bloody woman, he thought as she left the room. God, forgive me, but she won't be easy to deal with...she won't.

xxx

Late that night.

In her dark room, Sister Madeleine prayed. The image of St. Mary Magdalene looking down, her porcelain face illuminated by candle light.

She prayed before bed, like she always did, kneeling down on the floor and thanking her patroness for another day. Tonight, though, she didn't thank her. Instead, she asked for enlightenment, for wisdom in a decision.

'How can I allow someone like him to direct our institution? We need a man worthy of this place. He thinks he'll bring change into this house...change from what? We don't need change...we need peace and quiet, so our work can be done. He'll set their minds to rebellion; he'll spread it all over our children's hearts. He's not suited for the priesthood...in my heart I know he's not. I know I'm right on this, I do. You would show me otherwise, my Holy Patroness, wouldn't you?'

The old statue didn't answer her, but her glassy eyes spoke volumes to this old woman, or that was what she wanted to believe. Some people see what's before their eyes; others see only what they want to be there.

She stood up then, after thanking the Saint and making the Sign of the Cross, and determinedly, she walked to her desk. The moon outside shone through her window, but she closed her heavy curtains before beginning to write.

'To: The Most Reverend Terence Patrick Drury,

Bishop of Middlesbrough…'

The letter would be sent the following morning. The reply would arrive not more than one month after.

Next Chapter: Magazines, walks, and football.

Thank you for reading :D