unlike the last time she had seen her father, she had sensed none of the tenderness or sorrow or regret she had understood afterward, when she thought about it. There had been none of that when her mother had dropped her off at St. Matthew's. As usual, there had only been threats and anger, and she'd been in a hurry to leave her.
“One day you will know Gabbie, if you have a vocation. You must listen very, very carefully. And if you do, it will come to you very clearly. God speaks to us as loudly as He needs to, so we hear Him.”
“I don't always hear things,” Gabriella said with a small, shy smile, and the Mother Superior laughed gently. “I think you hear everything you need to.” And then her eyes grew sad as she looked at the child. She had taken it well, but it was a hard thing to tell her, harder still to live with, knowing your parents didn't want you, which was what it amounted to for Gabriella. Impossible to understand how people in her parents’ circumstances, particularly, could do this. But it wasn't the first time it had happened. And perhaps, in some way none of them could understand, perhaps it was a blessing. And despite the confusing emotions she felt, Gabriella knew that. She had never cried once when Mother Gregoria had told her. She just felt a sick feeling in her stomach, when she realized she might never see either of them ever again. It was hard to understand that, and in some ways Gabriella didn't.
“You're a strong girl” the Mother Superior said to her mysteriously, and Gabriella shook her head in answer. She wasn't, she knew she wasn't, and she wondered why people always said that to her. Her father had said the same thing the night before he left. He told her how strong she was. She didn't feel strong. She felt very lonely, and much of the time, very frightened. Even now, it was scary. What if she couldn't stay here? Where would she go? Who would take care of her? All she wanted to know was that she had a place to be forever, a place where she didn't have to hide, where she was safe, and no one would ever hurt her, or leave her. And Mother Gregoria understood that. She came around her desk, as she had once before, and silently put her arms around the child who was so brave, so strong, so dignified as she stood there, but the nun could feel her tremble as she held her. Gabriella didn't sob this time, she didn't beg, she didn't rage against her fate, but she clung tightly to the only person who had ever offered her love and comfort, and a lone tear rolled slowly down her face, as she looked up into the older woman's eyes with something so terrible and so powerful there that the wise old nun nearly shuddered.
“Don't leave me,” Gabriella whispered, so softly she almost couldn't hear her… “Don't make me go away…” The single tear was slowly joined by another, and then two more, but she maintained her dignity as she stood with her arms around the woman who offered her all she had now.
“I won't leave you, Gabbie,” she said softly, longing to give her something more, but not even sure how to do it. “You will never have to leave here. This is your home now.”
Gabriella nodded silently, burying her face in the black habit that had already become so familiar. “I love you,” she whispered, and Mother Gregoria held her as tears filled her own eyes.
“I love you too, Gabbie… we all do.”
They sat together that afternoon for a while, quietly holding hands, talking about Gabriella's mother, and why she had decided to leave Gabriella there. But it didn't make sense to either of them, no matter how reasonable the words, and in the end, they both decided it didn't matter. She had done it. And Gabbie had a home here. Mother Gregoria walked her slowly back to her room then. It was too late for school, and she left Gabriella there with her own thoughts, her memories, and her visions of her mother… the places she had hidden from her… the times she had been unable to hide… the brutality… the pain… the bruises… she remembered all of it, and she was glad it would never happen again. But it was hard to believe