“I have good news,” he said awkwardly. “You’re well enough to leave now.” That was a he, but the rest of his speech was true. “We need the bed.”
She was free to go—but go where?
When Father Perez arrived an hour later, he was accompanied by another priest.
“This is Father Berrendo, an old friend of mine.”
Graciela glanced up at the frail-looking priest. “Father.”
He was right, Father Berrendo thought. She is beautiful.
Father Perez had told him the story of what had happened to Graciela. The priest had expected to see some visible signs of the kind of environment the child had lived in, a hardness, a defiance, or self-pity. There were none of those things in the young girl’s face.
“I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad time,” Father Berrendo told her. The sentence carried a deeper meaning.
Father Perez said, “Graciela, I must return to Las Navas del Marqués. I am leaving you in Father Berrendo’s hands.”
Graciela was filled with a sudden sense of panic. She felt as though her last link with home was being cut. “Don’t go,” she pleaded.
Father Perez took her hand in his. “I know you feel alone,” he said warmly, “but you’re not. Believe me, child, you’re not.”
A nurse approached the bed carrying a bundle. She handed it to Graciela. “Here are your clothes. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave now.”
An even greater panic seized her. “Now?”
The two priests exchanged a look.
“Why don’t you get dressed and come with me?” Father Berrendo suggested. “We can talk.”
Fifteen minutes later Father Berrendo was helping Graciela out of the hospital door into the warm sunlight. There was a garden in front of the hospital with brightly colored flowers, but Graciela was too dazed even to notice them.
When they were seated in his office, Father Berrendo said, “Father Perez told me that you have no place to go.”
Graciela nodded.
“No relatives?”
“Only—” It was difficult to say it. “Only—my mother.”
“Father Perez said that you were a regular churchgoer in your village.”
A village she would never see again. “Yes.”
Graciela thought of those Sunday mornings, and the beauty of the church services, and how she had longed to be with Jesus and escape from the pain of the life she lived.
“Graciela, have you ever thought of entering a convent?”
“No.” She was startled by the idea.
“There is a convent here in Ávila—the Cistercian convent. They would take care of you there.”
“I—I don’t know.” The idea was frightening.
“It is not for everyone,” Father Berrendo told her. “And I must warn you, it is the strictest order of them all. Once you walk through the gates and take the vows, you have made a promise to God never to leave.”
Graciela sat there staring out the window, her mind filled with conflicting thoughts. The idea of shutting herself away from the world was terrifying. It would be like going to prison. But on the other hand, what did the world have to offer her? Pain and despair beyond bearing. She had often thought of suicide. This might offer a way out of her misery.
Father Berrendo said, “It’s up to you, my child. If you like, I will take you to meet the Reverend Mother Prioress.”
Graciela nodded. “All right.”
The Reverend Mother studied the face of the young girl before her. Last night for the first time in many, many years she had heard the voice. A young child will come to you. Protect her. “How old are you, my dear?”
“Fourteen.”
She’s old enough. In the fourth century the pope decreed that girls could be permitted to become nuns at the age of twelve.
“I’m afraid,” Graciela said to the Reverend Mother Betina.
I’m afraid. The words rang in Betina’s mind: I’m afraid…
That had been so many long years ago. She was speaking to her priest. “I don’t know if I have a calling for this, Father. I’m afraid.”
“Betina, the first contact with God can be very disturbing, and the decision to dedicate your life to Him is a difficult one.”
How did I find my calling? Betina wondered.