BBW ROMANCE: BWWM Romance: A Cowboy’s Southern Comfort (Military Cowboy Pregnancy Romance) (Interracial Army Contemporary Fantasy Romance Short Stories) (13 page)

These tiny gestures of tenderness, in a setting which insisted upon a severity of emotion which bordered on inhumane, sustained Tara through her studies and reflection. Every now and again, thoughts came to the surface about the warnings given to her about ‘particular friendships’, but she tried to brush them away as quickly as they came. Sister Josephine was no more than her mentor. They were close, but surely they weren't doing anything untoward? Surely the ‘particular friendships’ that the Postulant Mistress and Mother had been so afraid of were more than these small moments of kindness and intense intellectual connection? Tara ran rings round herself trying to understand what they were warning her of, and how it could ever resemble what she had found with Sister Josephine.

***

One morning, in late January, Sister Josephine arrived home at the convent earlier than usual and collapsed into her cot bed. The cots in the dorm were each separated by sheets to afford the girls some measure of privacy, but the light travelling through the white cotton made the room appear disjointed and ghostly. The room itself was in the attic of the convent, its high arched ceilings held up by carefully carved hardwood beams. Tara loved to admire the way the moonlight hit the carvings in the night when she couldn't sleep, listening to the breathing of the girls around her. Still, that afternoon she followed Sister Josephine up to their attic, making a huge effort not to make any noise on the narrow staircase.

“Sister Josephine?” Tara called out in a half whisper. '”Are you alright?”

She heard nothing in response, so she pulled away the white curtain before Sister Josephine's bed. What she saw shocked her. Sister Josephine was lying face down on her cot, crying in her nightdress. Her shoulders were ochre and flecked with dark freckles. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun at the top of her head, tiny little curls escaping at the nape of her neck. Tara knelt down beside her bed and hovered her hand above the other woman's shoulder, unsure whether she had the courage to touch her.

“There, there,” she whispered. “It can't be all that bad Sister. What happened?”

“Oh, Sister Franklin,” she sighed through her tears as she sat up.  Tara was still unused to hearing her religious name spoken aloud.

“I just don't know how much longer I can take this. So many of the children are sick and I can't do anything about it. I can pray and pray all I want, but they keep getting sick no matter what I do.”

“All you can do is trust that you're doing God's work,” Tara said. “Everyone knows you're one of the most hardworking and caring nuns in the convent. Try not to get discouraged.”

“It’s just this place,” Sister Josephine sobbed. “Sometimes I feel so lost and powerless I can hardly bear it.”

Sister Josephine took in short, sharp breaths, her face tearstained and flushed.  She placed her hand at the back of Tara's neck and pulled their foreheads together. The warmth flooded through Tara, and she couldn't tell if she was frozen stiff with joy or with fear. Sister Josephine's nose traced the outline of Tara's, and for a moment they were breathing in sync with one another, as if Tara was drawing out the fear and grief from her mentor like a bad spirit. Her fingers felt delicate and feather-light on the back of her neck. All she could do was breathe and watch and feel, pray that this moment would continue for as long as possible, their lips mere milimeters from one another.

“I've prayed and prayed to be able to get you out of my head, but I can't,’ said Sister Josephine, almost inaudibly. ‘I can't drag you into this. I can't get you sent away, and I can't bear to be sent away again.’

Tara said nothing. Part of her wanted to say that she didn't understand what Sister Jospehine was referring to, but in her heart of hearts she did. She knew that the sensation in her chest that was like an enormous wave every time she laid eyes on Sister Josephine was love. It was the damning element of the ‘particular friendships’ she had been warned against since day one. She didn't know that that was why Sister Franklin had been sent to their convent from England, and for a moment she felt a pang of jealously that before her there might have been another girl that had had such intense feelings for her.

When Tara lifted her head, Sister Josephine's face was filled with pain, like she had just tried to run on an old injury and found that she still collapsed at the first step. Her small frame seemed to vibrate with shame, rage, and determination, and with such passion that she could barely contain it. Tara couldn't think of anything to say, not one thing that would comfort or reassure her. She was too overwhelmed by the fact that she had accidentally fallen into yet another forbidden affair. First Stephen who had broken her heart, and now Sister Josephine, who surely would break both their hearts.

How could they possibly feel anything, plan anything within the walls of the convent, as watched and analysed as they were by the postulant and novitiate mistress, Sister Theresa? Tara felt her chest close, the future hurtling towards her like a punch in a drunken brawl. She drew herself up, trying to stand as straight and tall as possible as she  drew her hand across Sister Josephine's cheek before turning away, leaving her crumbled and weeping on the side of the bed.

***

That night she barely slept, nor could she for the rest of the week. She tried to avoid Sister Josephine, both physically and mentally. She focused herself on fasting and prayer, much to the surprise of Sister Theresa, who was thrilled to see this new burst of commitment from the young nun. Sister Josephine turned inward, doubling her hours working in the town, arriving back each evening more and more drawn and exhausted. Tara was wracked with guilt, and still found herself overflowing with tenderness for the other young nun.

She was the one person who had been her friend, who had stayed up all night to talk with her and teach her, and she had rejected her with not so much as a word. She couldn't even tell if she had wanted to reject her, or if there was a way to undo it. The rhythm of convent life carried her along like a leaf on a stream, and she had no time to think or feel. Continually pulled under by exhaustion and fear, she attempted to extinguish her feelings for Sister Josephine in a way that made her feel like she had been eating ash, and now it was solidifying inside her, turning her to stone.

“Sister Franklin, you have a visitor.” Sister Theresa's voice was scratchy and jarring across the quiet study room. Tara was shocked. This was her first visitor in the nearly eight months since she had begun her postulancy at the convent. She had gotten used to the idea that no-one from her hometown was willing to travel so far away to see her. She followed Sister Theresa down the long panelled corridors towards the small lounge area where young nuns could receive visitors.

From what she had heard, the further advanced a nun became in her training, the fewer visits she was allowed, and Tara had taken that as an indication that it was better to let go of her attachment to her old life quickly. The lounge area was painted yellow and furnished simply. It smelled like stale potpourri and the same floor polish they used all over the convent.

As she turned the corner of the room, she saw who had come to visit her, and her heart sank. Stephen was sitting in one of the convent's small yellow armchairs, looking decidedly uncomfortable. His huge hands lay on either side of the armchair, his fingernails digging into the fabric. He looked at Tara as she rounded the door, and it was as if he had seen a ghost. Her wild, dark hair was restrained and covered. She had lost so much weight, her once delicate features now appeared birdlike and sharp.

“How could you come here?!” Her voice exploded out of her like a bullet from a gun, shocking everyone in the room with how loud she was.

“Tara, sweetheart, I can explain what happened. I'm so sorry.” His voice was gruff and low, making Tara feel a little sick at how comforting it was to hear a familiar voice. Any familiar voice, even his.

“You just disappeared. No-one knew where you were. You didn't see how my mother looked at me when she realized you weren't coming.” Tara was sobbing, almost hysterical. “You didn't have to change everything in your life. You didn't have to leave to spare your family the shame of living with you.”

All of the pain and anger that she had kept down for months suddenly spilled forth at him, and she could barely control it. He spluttered, various excuses faltering as soon as they left his lips. Sister Theresa stood there shocked, completely confused as to what was happening or why. Stephen had told her that he was Tara's brother, not her missing fiancé. The explosive display of emotion that poured out before her seemed frightening and unexplained, and she felt terribly guilty for having played some part in it.

Tara spun around and ran back towards the wing of the convent where the attic room was. She climbed the stairs rapidly and clumsily, making no attempt to be measured or controlled or anything they had tried to teach her over the last several months. She yanked back the curtain to Sister Josephine's cot, hoping against all hope that she would be there.

Sure enough, there she was, kneeling at the side of her bed, her knuckles clasped white in prayer. Her hands jerked away from her forehead as the curtain was pulled away, and for a moment she looked entirely confused and even afraid. Tara fell to her knees beside her, her whole body folding over on itself. Her spine created a tiny shadow through the serge wool of her habit as she pressed her head to her knees.

“I'm sorry I didn't say anything,” she whispered. “I'm sorry I left and I didn't say anything.”

Sister Josephine lay a hand on Tara's shoulder, and then unpinned her veil. She rubbed her fingers back and forth on her temples, and then drew her fingers down her hairline in an attempt to unknot all the muscles in the young nun’s head. Her skull was pounding with thoughts and feelings.

Her anger at Stephen, at herself for ever having faith in him, her grief for the love she felt for Sister Josephine that felt impossible and damaged from the outset. Sister Josephine cupped Tara's cheek and brought her face to her own, kissing her on the lips so gently Tara could barely be sure it had happened, if not for the glow of heat it left on her skin. She stopped crying and gazed into the woman’s black eyes, which were dark and vivid as opals.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to understand, Sister,” Tara said. “It all seemed so strange to me. It still does.”

Sister Josephine’s' gentle expression meant there was no need for words or apologies. Tara felt at home and safe, hovering in this moment in which they could finally comprehend each other fully. They kissed again, this time with their eyes closed, but suddenly Sister Josephine broke off. Tara turned to see what she was looking at, but she already knew before she saw it herself. Sister Theresa was standing there, the white cotton curtain in her hand and her mouth pursed into a fine line. Tara had never seen such disgust and disappointment on one person’s face before.

“Girls, you'll need to come with me to Mother Superior's office,” she said, barely allowing the words out through her clenched teeth.

The two young nuns pulled themselves up, straightening their habits and wiping the tears from their faces. Tara tried to quickly reattach her veil, but it was still askew by the time she left the attic. They followed Sister Theresa down the hall, feeling the eyes of every other young nun on them as they walked. It was doubtful that they already knew what the two of them had done, but at this point it didn't seem to matter. Tara had no idea what this would mean for her. Could she stay in the convent? Did she even want to?

Mother Superior's office was pink and bright, the walls lined with books on everything from science, to theology, to French and Latin grammar. Mother was an incredibly well educated and intelligent woman. She had a reputation for being fair but unforgiving. While there were never any cases of girls being beaten or starved as penitence for misdoings, it did often seem that strikes against young nuns stayed on their files a very long time.

Tara didn't want to be one of the young nuns forced to do the most boring or physically difficult work for the rest of her time in the convent. She couldn't even begin to imagine what might happen to Sister Josephine who, in spite of all her hard work, was still a repeat offender.

The sunlight glanced off Sister Josephine’s beautiful features, making her look almost angelic in Tara’s eyes. Mother Superior sat in her chair behind the large mahogany desk, her hands clasped beneath her scapular. Her face betrayed more concern than anger or disgust. This at least was of some comfort to Tara.

“Sister Franklin, I must say I am disappointed in you. We took you into our order as a favor to your school. We were promised you genuinely wanted to be here. You surely must have known that we can't allow this sort of behavior. Your actions are sure to corrupt the other young postulants.” She spoke carefully and seriously. Tara held her breath, waiting for her punishment.

“You, Sister Josephine, I am even more saddened by. A talented and hardworking girl such as yourself could have helped so many people as a nun. It brings me great sorrow to have to ask you take your things that you arrived with and begin to make arrangements to leave. You must have no further contact with young Sister Franklin here. She still has great potential here, so long as she is kept away from your sort.”

These last words were almost hissed. Tara felt dizzy. She hadn't even really considered that she might be allowed to stay while Sister Josephine could be sent away. Would she still even be Sister Josephine? What had her name been before? Would she go back to England? If she did go, it was almost certain that Tara would never be able to track her down again. The mere thought of losing her that way, to a vast cloud of confusion and changed names, made her start to cry again. She drew her hands up to her face and tried to shut her eyes as tight as possible. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she would suddenly wake up and this might all be a dream.