eyes and a broad smile. “You ladies certainly know how to make an Easter picnic unforgettable, don't you?” And as Sister Emanuel looked over at them, and saw the expression on the young priest's face, she was very proud of her students.
The guests stayed for most of the afternoon, and Gabriella was eating a piece of apple pie when Father Connors finally made his way back to her again. He had spent the afternoon chatting with Mother Gregoria and some of the older Sisters. They had introduced him to their families, and he was having a wonderful time talking to them. He had loved chatting with Mother Gregoria, she was so well informed, so intelligent, and so wise. And she had enjoyed getting to know him. He had only been at St. Stephen's for a short time. He had been in Germany before that, and had spent six months working at the Vatican in Rome, and he was very well versed in what was going on there.
“You should try some vanilla ice cream on that.” He gestured to Gabriella's apple pie, as he obviously enjoyed the huge dollop of homemade ice cream on his own piece. “Mmmm… fantastic lunch. You ladies should open a restaurant. We'd make a fortune for the church.”
Gabriella grinned at the look of ecstasy on his face, and laughed at what he had said. “We could call it Mother Gregoria's. I'm sure she'd love that.”
“Or maybe just call it something catchy like The Nuns. I hear there's a nightclub that just opened downtown somewhere, in an old church. They're using the altar as a bar.” Just talking about it seemed sacrilegious to both of them, but it still made them laugh. “I used to love to dance when I was a kid,” he admitted to her, starting in on the second piece of pie on his plate. It was blueberry, and reminded her of the story he'd told about picking blackberries when he was a child. “Did you like to dance, Sister Bernadette?” he asked, as though they were old friends, and she smiled and shook her head.
“I've never tried. I've been here since I was ten,” but he already knew that. “I used to love to watch people dance at my parents’ parties when I was a little girl, but I never got to go downstairs. I used to sit at the top of the stairs, and peek at them. They all looked so beautiful, like fairy queens and princes. I always thought I'd be one of them when I grew up.” She had no idea what had happened to their house, or the furnishings that had been in it. She didn't know if her mother had taken them, or if everything had been sold. It had all been gone for a long time, and she had no way of knowing.
“Where did you live when you were a child?” he asked with interest as he looked at her, putting a small dollop of the delicious ice cream on what remained of her pie.
“Thanks…” She closed her eyes as she tasted it, and then grinned up at him. “That is good… yum… We lived in New York, about twenty blocks from here. I don't know what happened to the house.”
“You've never gone back to look?” That seemed odd to him. He would have gone back, just out of curiosity, and found it strange that she hadn't.
“I thought about it when I was going to Columbia, but…” she shrugged, looking up at him with her enormous blue eyes that were so similar to his own… “too many memories… I'm not sure I want to see it again. It's been a long time.” And her life was very different.
“I'll drive by it sometime for you, if you want, just to see if it's still there. Give me the address, and I'll take a look.”
“That would be nice.” He could face the demons for her, and report back to her. She was almost sure Mother Gregoria wouldn't mind. “Do you ever go back to St. Mark's?”
“Once in a while,” he said, with a warm look at her as he finished his second piece of pie. “My parents’ house has been turned into a parking lot. I don't have any relatives. All I have left of my childhood is St. Mark's.” They were both people with troubled histories, and very little left of their past. Painful memories, and broken dreams that could no longer be repaired, but they were both