Chapter 4

•Penelope •

The bell rang three times for afternoon prayer, and I was halfway through shelving the hymns when I headed the footsteps that didn’t seem to belong to any of the children.

I stayed facing the shelves.

Maybe if I just kept working, whoever it was would go away.

But Mother Superior’s voice broke through my wishful thinking. “Penelope, dear, could I have a moment?”

I turned, brushing my skirt flat. “Of course, Mother.”

She motioned for me to follow her down the hallway, just that serene, unreadable annoying expression she wore when she was about to tell you something that wasn’t actually optional.

“I just had a lovely meeting with Dr. Miguel Ramirez,” she said as we walked. “You remember him?”

My stomach fluttered in the worst way. “Yes, Mother.”

“He’ll be traveling to Oakridge this week to a small rural community, not far from the border. They’ve been struggling with medical shortages. No proper clinic. He’s one of the few physicians willing to volunteer his time out there.”

I nodded slowly, unsure where this was going but already not liking the direction.

“He’s requested someone from the parish to assist. Someone trustworthy. I thought of you.”

I stopped walking.

Me?

“Mother, I—”

“You’ve been diligent, devout. I think you’d do fine there.” She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. With the Lord guiding you, of course.”

The Lord didn’t ask me if I was ready nor did he bother to quench this burning raging desire in my body towards him.

I swallowed, hard. “Does it have to be me? I’m not trained in anything medical—”

“You’re not expected to be,” she said gently. “Just assist, be a soothing presence and a good help. It’s only for a couple of weeks.”

Weeks? Goodness gracious.

“But—”

“It’s a good opportunity to serve. And Dr. Ramirez was very specific that he trusted you.”

That stopped me, he asked for me?

Of course he did. He just had.

My skin went cold and hot all at once. I remembered the way his voice dipped low when he said my name.

The way he looked at me, like he was always seeing something I didn’t want to admit existed.

“Penelope?”

I blinked. “Yes, Mother. I understand.”

She nodded, pleased. “You’ll leave Thursday, Dr. Miguel is in charge of the transportation so pack as much as you can.”

I didn't own any decent clothes, aside from the uniform I wore which from Mother’s words won’t be needed.

Miguel had orchestrated this, he knew exactly what he was doing.

And I… I was going with him.

I pressed my back against the stone wall and closed my eyes, counting my breaths, whispering a prayer under my breath.

Fasting won’t be enough to prepare me for whatever the next complete weeks have in store for me.

By the time vespers ended, the sun had dipped behind the convent walls, casting everything in that syrupy gold that made the chapel feel more holy than usual. I sat two pews from the front, head bowed, hands folded neatly in my lap—but I wasn’t praying.

I was trying not to cry.

The moment Mother Superior announced my assignment I could feel the glares from the other sisters, like I was dirty.

Fine and good, my past wasn't one to be proud of and my stay here in the convent hasn't been long.

You'd think the church would be more accommodating to new believers, but the minute the other nuns in training hear there's a little proximity between a man and a woman? Yeah judgemental looks.

When the final hymn ended, I turned to leave quietly, hoping to slip out unnoticed. But Sister Matilda was already standing by the doorway, arms folded tightly across her chest.

God, I hated her so much.

“You must feel you're very special,” she said without looking at me. Her voice was low, even, and cruel in that soft way she’d mastered. “I heard he asked for you by name?”

And so what?

Ah, breathe Penelope. Think Godly, homely thoughts.

“Mother said it was a volunteer position—”

“Mm. But out of all of us, he wants you.” She tilted her head slightly. “You must make quite the impression.”

“I didn’t—” I stopped myself. Defending it would only make it worse.

Two other sisters passed behind us, pretending not to listen but walking just slow enough to catch every word. One of them stifled a laugh behind her veil. The other didn’t bother.

Matilda stepped closer, her voice dipping low. “I’ve seen how transparent your uniform is, and how it clings to your body when you walk. Now I’m not saying you seduced him but once a slut, always one. Right?

My throat tightened. “That’s not fair—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Neither is touching yourself in the storeroom but you're already aware of that, aren't you?”

She stepped around me and walked off with the others, heads bowed in mock piety, leaving me standing there with shame burning hot against my skin.

Good dammit, there was a huge difference between high school bullying and convent bullying, here everyone would think you’re freaking insane.

We are saints, or at least trained to be.

I returned to my room in silence, closed the door and pressed my forehead to the cool wood and tried to remember why I ever thought God was enough to keep me safe.

The next morning, someone had moved my laundry from the communal line and left it in a damp pile near the back garden.

God we weren’t children anymore! I wanted to yell or even curse at the freaking stupid dimwits.

By midday, I was told my kitchen shift had been reassigned.

“We just thought you needed the time,” Sister Agnes said, smiling tightly as she handed the ladle to another girl. “You’ll be preparing for your trip, after all. You need all the rest you can get.”

As if I were going on some holiday.

It was suffocating having to deal with all of these, the children even noticed their actions.

Agnes referred to me as “that one”. Me? Penelope Green.

Sister Ruth “accidentally” tipped over the water basin when I entered the sacristy. Her eyes never left mine as she muttered, “Your skirt might rip if you fall over.”

The hallway outside the chapel smelled like beeswax and lavender, but it couldn’t cover the sting in the air. Three sisters stood clustered near the cloister doors, robes crisp, voices low and laced with faux concern.

I tried to walk past without catching attention, but Sister Rosa turned, as if she’d been waiting.

“Penelope,” she said, voice coated in something too sweet to trust. “How are the preparations going?”

I paused, schooling my face. “Fine, thank you.”

“Of course.” Her smile was soft. “I know the other sisters have been giving you a hard time and I’m sorry about that.”

I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, I wanted Thursday already. The snide remarks were getting too drawn out and tiring already.

“I heard he didn’t refute when you were suggested,” she said.

“I’m sure it’s just because I’ve worked closely with the children,” I offered, voice light, trying not to give her more fuel.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Ruth’s eyes skimmed me from collar to hem. “They absolutely adore you.”

Matilda stepped forward from nowhere, lowering her voice. “You know, Sister Margaret used to help with donations too. Never once got invited to travel with any of the men.”

“That’s because Sister Margaret doesn’t flirt when she prays,” the third woman murmured.

Okay that was it, I have had enough of their stupidity.

“Why don’t you get on your knees as well, maybe Dr. Ramirez will find you slightly attractive and probably pick you then. Oh you can’t? Too bad.”