to others, mostly those who were truly meant for it, they were never sure they were good enough for it. And it was so like Gabriella to be uncertain, to question herself, and doubt what she herself knew she was hearing.
“You're supposed to hear your heart, my child. But you're supposed to believe in yourself enough to listen. You can't keep doubting what you hear, and what you know to be right. I think you've known it for a long time now.”
“I thought I did.” Gabriella sighed again, relieved at what the Mother Superior was saying. She had wanted so desperately to make the right decision, but most of the time she didn't feel good enough to offer herself to the others. They were all so much better than she was. “I was so sure of it last year, I almost said something to you last summer, and then again at Christmas. But I thought I just wanted to hear it. I wasn't sure what you'd say.”
“And now?” Mother Gregoria asked calmly, her hands tucked into opposite sleeves as they continued to walk peacefully around the garden at twilight. It was almost dark now. “What are you saying, Gabbie?” She wanted to hear her say the words. She didn't want to take the moment from her. It was too important in her life for anyone to rob her of it.
Gabbie's voice was barely audible as they stopped walking and looked at each other.
“I'm saying I want to join the Order.” She looked worried, and the deep blue eyes reached out to the woman she considered her mother, for confirmation. “Will you let me?” It was a moment of total humility, total selflessness, total giving. She wanted to offer herself to God, and the people who had given her so much —safety, freedom, love, comfort. She owed them so much. And she wanted to devote her life to them now. They had more than made up to her for everything her parents had taken from her.
“It's not up to me,” the Mother Superior said to her gently. “It's up to you, and God. I'm only here to help you. But I've been hoping you would come to this decision. I've been watching you struggle for two years now,” she said warmly.
“You knew?” Gabriella looked surprised as she smiled at her, and tucked an arm in hers as they walked slowly through the garden.
“Perhaps before you did.”
“And? What do you think?” She was asking her as the Mother Superior of the Order she wanted to join now.
“There's a class of postulants beginning in August. I think your timing is perfect.” They stopped and smiled at each other, and Gabriella reached out and hugged her.
“Thank you… for everything… for my life… you'll never know what you saved me from when I came here.” Even now, she couldn't bring herself to tell her. It was still much too painful.
“I suspected that from the beginning.” And then, humanly, she couldn't resist asking her a question she had always wondered about. “Do you still miss them?” It was the question of the adoptive mother about the birth parents the child might still long for.
“Sometimes. I miss what they should have been, or what I wanted them to be, and never were. Sometimes I wonder where they are now… what their lives are like… if they had other children. It's not important.” But it was, and they both knew that. “Even less so now.” Gabbie lied to herself more than to the woman she had always called Mother. “I have a family now… or I will in August.”
“You have had a family ever since you came here, Gabbie.”
“I know that,” she said quietly, and then tucked her arm into the nun's again as they walked back into the house they lived in, and where Gabriella would stay forever. For her, it was an important decision. It meant she would never have to leave them, and could never lose them. It meant she would never be abandoned. It was all she wanted. The certainty that she would belong to them forever.
“You'll make a very good Sister,” Mother Gregoria said quietly, smiling down at her.
“I hope so,” Gabriella answered with a smile of her own. She looked blissfully happy. “It's all I want now.”
The two women walked arm in arm down the hall, as Gabriella felt a wave of relief wash over her. This was truly her home, and always would be.