who had come to them nearly as damaged as she was. And in spite of what the wise nun sensed in her, the broken pieces that had yet to heal, there was a wholeness and an inner force about Gabriella that was deeply compelling. For a child so young, she had a powerful presence.
They introduced their two other “boarders” to her, the two girls that had been orphaned and with them since Christmas. The younger one was fourteen, and a pretty child who longed for the world, and chafed a bit at the restrictions of the convent. Her name was Natalie, and she dreamed of a world of boys and clothes, and she was mad about a young singer named Elvis. Her older sister, Julie, was seventeen, and was relieved to be removed from the world, and clung to the safety she found here. She was desperately shy, and still seemed to be in shock from the circumstances that had left them orphans. She longed to be one of them one day, and had begged Mother Gregoria for months to let her stay there, and seek no other arrangements for them. Julie seemed to have little to say to Gabriella when they met, and Natalie was full of whispers and secrets and giggles, though Gabriella was too young to really appreciate the full measure of her friendship. And after a few minutes of talking to her, Natalie whispered to Sister Lizzie that Gabriella was “just a baby,” but they promised to be kind to her anyway. She was only to be there for a short time, and everyone was sure she would be desperately homesick without her parents.
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