All warnings, disclaimer, thanks, and so forth can be found in the first couple installments. No need for redundant redundancy. Should anyone get a hankerin’ to communicate on this here story (eeep!) for any reason, feel free to contact me at: travelingpastry@yahoo.com

Jennifer was not a morning person. In fact, she always considered herself more of a mid-to late afternoon kind of gal who really came to life at around ten o’clock in the evening when her mind was at its most creative. School had forced her to alter her natural biological sleep patterns but, left to her own devices, she could coast through the entire morning on a semi-unconscious wave.

So this made her act of waking up at a quarter past eight a bit of a surprise. She slowly peeled her eyelids open and squinted against the glare of the sun beating through the windowpane. Momentarily disoriented, she tried to focus her clouded mind on the unfamiliar surroundings that included a sizable wooden crucifix and a reproduction of a random Italian Renaissance painting of the Madonna and Child.

Blink, blink...

Then she remembered where she was and immediately glanced over at Resa’s bed. Which was empty.

She sat up swiftly then stopped as a sharp pain shot across her head. Gingerly she touched the bruise above her eye and cringed. Ice pack or no ice pack, the residual swelling made her eye a wee bit puffy.

Jennifer glanced back at Resa’s unmade bed and paused to determine if she could sense Resa elsewhere in the visitor apartment. She quickly realized Resa was definitely gone.

She was alone.

Dread hit deep in her gut. Had the other woman abandoned her? Left her in the care of the sisters until other plans could be made? Oh, it would be so like her to do that, she thought, then paused. Now how would I possibly know what she would or would not do? Hmmm...

She decided she was being needlessly silly. Merely because Resa wasn’t there when she woke up didn’t mean she was gone for good. Only last night she’d said they would get through this together...or words to that effect. But what if she had said what Jennifer wanted to hear as a way to humor her, all the while planning to leave at the first available moment?

Jennifer, calm down, she told herself. Even if she did leave, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, right? It’s not like you’ve known her your whole life. .right?

She chewed her lower lip. And yet a vague question tickled the deep recesses of her thoughts, one she couldn’t fully articulate and wasn’t certain if she wanted to. One that had far reaching implications she found strangely disquieting...about her and Resa and the sense of connection between them.

She shook her head, stood and tidied both beds before entering the living room. In the back of her mind she thought there might be a note of some nature from the former gang leader telling of her whereabouts. But of course there was not and she chastised herself at the disappointment she experienced. Resa was probably out getting breakfast, which was the most logical thing for her to do at this time. Jennifer was being irrational and she knew it. But the nebulous sense of abandonment persisted.

She glanced at the once tidy piles of clothes and saw by the mess that Resa had already chosen her items. Jennifer located a pair of jeans that were almost the correct size, albeit slightly larger, then found a cotton, black faux turtleneck and hastily dressed. After taking care of her basic toiletries, she pulled her long, blonde hair back into a ponytail, and tried not to cringe at the swelling above her right eyebrow.

She decided she’d go in search of Resa. Before exiting the apartment, she scribbled a hasty message in case Resa returned during her absence. Not that she’d wonder if she’d left permanently, of course, but it was, after all, the polite thing to do.

Once outside she felt instantly alert and awake. It was a beautiful morning. There was enough of a breeze to blow away the smog, leaving the sky above a rich, cobalt and the air was rather crisp, though the mid-morning sun would soon burn that off.

"Can I help you?"

The polite voice came from off to her right and startled her. Jennifer blinked twice and, shielding her eyes with the flat of her hand, glanced in the direction of the speaker.

A middle-aged nun was smiling at her and clearly had no idea who she was or what she was doing in the private section of the convent. Which was fair since Jennifer had been too distraught during the events with Sister Therase to register any of the faces of the other sisters. It had been too chaotic.

"Hi," she said. "My name’s Jennifer. I stayed in the guest quarters last night." She pointed over her shoulder.

Recognition dawned on the sister’s face and Jennifer noted that the other woman’s smile dimmed just a little. "Oh, yes. Of course. I’m sorry...Last night was something of a blur."

"I understand. For me, too. It was all so..." Her words trailed off as she could find no expression that didn’t sound painfully trite. It was all so...what? Horrible? Tragic? Unjust? Nothing sounded appropriate and she felt a discomforting twinge often associated with outsiders in grievous situations.

But the woman opposite her nodded as though she recognized what she was attempting to convey and Jennifer felt relieved. She also considered for the first time that perhaps there were no words to neatly describe grief, that it was by its very nature a messy emotion.

"I am Sister Clodagh," the woman said. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"No. Not yet. Actually, that’s what I was just thinking about. I don’t suppose you could point me in the direction of the kitchen?"

"I would be happy to take you there." Sister Clodagh swept her hand in the direction of a stone pathway leading around the chapel and Jennifer fell in step beside her.

Silence descended upon them and Jennifer seized the opportunity to glance around. She was slowly starting to get a better grasp of the layout of the place. The west half she knew contained the guest apartment and chapel and was primarily devoted to the private area of the convent while the east appeared to be where most of the school’s activities occurred. The main building was several stories tall and each floor was dedicated to the education of a certain grade. It was her understanding the sisters’ personal quarters were in a separate wing on the western side and the elaborate gardens dominated the north of the grounds but also bled into some of the residential side as well.

"Your convent is beautiful," Jennifer commented.

Sister Clodagh smiled. "Thank you."

"The kids must love it here."

This produced a chuckle from the sister. "I think environmental aesthetics tend to be lost on small children, especially when it’s their school. They’re too busy running and playing to notice the architecture and whatnot."

Jennifer smiled realizing the nun probably had a point. Then she noticed something as they neared the main building.

"You know, it’s funny. I can’t hear them. I would have thought so many kids would make more noise."

Sadness entered Sister Clodagh’s eyes. "Classes have been cancelled today. After what happened."

"Oh...of course," the college student said quietly then decided a change of subject was probably in order. "I, um, don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone else loitering about recently?"

Sister Clodagh frowned. "I’m afraid I don’t understand the question."

"Well, specifically I’m looking for a woman about yay tall." She motioned with her hand to an approximation of Resa’s height. "Long dark hair, blue eyes, very striking looking."

"Your friend?"

Jennifer couldn’t help grinning. "We’re not quite at the friend stage yet, I think. Though I’m pretty sure we’ve moved up from acquaintances of a non-hostile nature, which is progress." Sister Clodagh looked so blank that Jennifer had to stifle an outright laugh. "Her name’s Resa Gustavez. She used to be a student here."

Sister Clodagh’s lips thinned but she made no other overt reaction to the name. "Yes, I remember Resa," she said.

Jennifer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You do? Were you a teacher here when she was a student?"

Sister Clodagh nodded. "I’ve taught at St. Ruth’s for almost twenty years."

"Then I suppose you must have had Resa in some of your classes..."

Sister Clodagh’s expression was a study in noncommittal, as was her tone. "Yes. Resa was a student of mine." A slight pause, then she admitted, "One of the most gifted students I’ve ever had."

"Really?"

The nun stopped outside a doorway to the main building and faced Jennifer. "Have you known her long?"

She shook her head. "Couple days... but they’ve been pretty intense."

"I see. Then you’ve probably already realized she’s extraordinarily intelligent."

"I think that’s obvious from the word ‘go.’"

"Yes. It is obvious...Even as a child she was brilliant," Sister Clodagh said, her voice matter of fact. "We all knew it. She could recall practically everything she ever read at a moment’s notice with near-photographic clarity." The nun’s pale eyes grew wistful. "A teacher dreams of a student like her, one with an almost limitless potential and a hunger to succeed." She sighed heavily and shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately a different hunger won out in the end."

Jennifer stiffened and felt the blood rush to her face. "Her life isn’t over," she respectfully objected. "She’s struggling right now to make her life better, to try to make up for what she did. She wants to change and with the right kind of support, I believe she can."

Sister Clodagh regarded her for a long moment, absorbing her words...then she slowly nodded. "I hope so," she said as she opened the door. "For the sake of her everlasting soul...I truly hope so."

* * * *

"So, what are you saying? That the thief that got away may be a member of this crew as well?" Phillip Teague leaned back in his chair behind the desk and ignored the sharp squeak from the base that reverberated around the cramped confines of the trailer.

The space wasn’t so much tiny as overwhelmingly cluttered with countless books, binders, and rolls of architectural blueprints that were strewn about in surprising disarray. The pervasive smell of cigarettes mixed oddly with the distinct aroma of incense in the stale air and Resa’s glance quickly detected a handcrafted, wooden incense burner atop the metal credenza, wedged between two frayed paperback books: The Four Nobel Truths and Co-Dependency No More. She arched a single brow. Not the sort of reading material one would expect to find on a construction site.

She shifted her gaze back to Phillip Teague. "It’s certainly a possibility," Resa said in answer to his question.

"Do you have any proof or is this merely conjecture on your part?" he countered, slightly defensive.

"Mr. Teague, we have no proof whatsoever," Sister Stephanie spoke up. "But it is a tremendous coincidence wouldn’t you agree? People covet that which they see and Mr. Randolf saw the Sacred Heart on a daily basis. Is it not possible his accomplice did the same?"

He sidestepped the question. "Look, just because one of the men from this crew did something foolish doesn’t mean there’s some sort of conspiracy at work here."

"Foolish?" Sister Stephanie said, sitting up even straighter (if possible) in the chair opposite Phillip. "What Mr. Randolf and his accomplice did last night was a great deal more than ‘foolish.’ Their actions resulted in the death of one of our Sisters...my friend. I wouldn’t call that foolish. I would call that murder."

The last word hung heavy between them in the silence that followed and Phillip seemed disturbed by it. He raked a hand through his thick hair then dropped it to the messy desktop and unconsciously ran the tip of a finger alongside the corner of a wooden picture frame. From her vantage point Resa could just make out the image in the photograph of two sunburned men in colorful parkas standing on a snowy mountain, grinning for the camera. The Teague Brothers.

"This other thief..." Phillip spoke quietly. "Is he wanted for murder?"

"No." Resa answered.

"Not yet," Sister Stephanie interjected.

Resa glanced at her. "It likely wouldn’t be murder. He just came there to rob the place, not to kill anyone."

"But he did kill someone."

"It wasn’t intentional," Resa pointed out.

"How do you know?" Sister Stephanie challenged. "Therase’s heart may have given out before they could have done anything but how do you know they wouldn’t have killed her to prevent getting caught? You saw how they fought us, how that one hit your friend before getting away."

Phillip looked concerned. "Is your friend all right?"

Resa met his eyes. "She’ll have a bruise when she wakes up, but she’s fine." A grin. "She’s tougher than she looks."

Phillip nodded and Resa detected a wave of salient relief cross his face. Her eyes narrowed and the quiet din of alarm bells went off in her head. Sudden snippets of the thieves’ dialogue flashed across her memory...Dude, leave her the fuck alone...She’s un-fucking-conscious...I don’t fucking care...Well I do...

Or was it...?

Resa crossed her arms. "The second thief was actually quiet concerned about Sister Therase," she said with studied deliberation.

Phillip’s eyes sharpened. "He was?"

Resa nodded.

"How do you know that?" Sister Stephanie demanded.

Resa’s eyes never deviated from Phillip’s. "Because he didn’t want to leave her unconscious." She tipped her head to one side. "He said something about it being bad Karma."

The last word produced the exact look of dismay she’d expected; the muscles in Phillip Teague’s face clenched, his jaw shifted to one side and his ruddy complexion grew almost pale.

"A thief worried about Karma?" Sister Stephanie scoffed. "That’s ridiculous."

"Funny, Randolf said basically the same thing...right before he started to leave him there."

Phillip leaned forward in his chair. "Are you saying the accomplice..."

"Didn’t want to abandon Sister Therase," Resa finished for him. "Yes. I’m sure of it."

Phillip sat back, this news evidently striking home with him. He linked his fingers in an unconscious, prayer-like gesture of contemplation as he mulled over Resa’s words.

Sister Stephanie stared at Resa. "You sound like you sympathize with this man."

Resa met her angry brown eyes with a hard expression of her own. "I know what it’s like to be judged before all the evidence is in."

Sister Stephanie’s eyes narrowed at the dig. "When there is such a preponderance of evidence already in the balance, waiting for additional proof one way or the other is really nothing more than a waste of time."

And the gloves came off.

"So guilty of one crime makes you guilty of all, is that it? Hardly fair."

"Life isn’t fair."

"That’s not exactly the sentiment one expects from a nun."

Sister Stephanie stiffened in indignation. "Do you question my calling?"

"No," Resa replied calmly. "Do you?"

Sister Stephanie opened her mouth to respond...then closed it again and glanced away.

Resa turned back to Phillip Teague and noted his mild bewilderment at their verbal sparring.

Suddenly the door to the trailer opened and a wide shaft of bright sunlight fell across all three occupants. Both Resa and Sister Stephanie twisted in their chairs to squint at the new arrival directly behind them. Resa could only make out the darkened shape of a man standing with his hands braced on either side of the doorway but she recognized him just the same.

"Oh, sorry, Bro," the man said. "Thought you were alone."

He started to draw back.

Resa stood. "Are you Jude?" she asked and the man paused.

"Uh, yeah." But there was a definite hesitation in his answer and his tension was almost palpable.

"We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions," she said.

He didn’t move. "About what?"

"About your crew."

His defenses were clearly up now. "What about ‘em?"

"How well do you know them?"

He shrugged one shoulder, non-committal. "You know, some better than others."

Sister Stephanie stood as well. "Mr. Teague, we were just discussing with your brother a very grave situation that we were hoping you could perhaps help us with. I’m afraid there’s been a terrible incident that involves one of your construction crew employees."

"You mean about the robbery." It wasn’t exactly a question.

"How did you know about that?" Resa pressed sharply.

He shrugged again, casual. "It’s in the news," he answered. "Channel 5 has a truck out in front of your convent right now."

Resa nodded. "Riiiiight," she drew the word out as she casually came around the other side of her chair. "...but how did you know we were from the convent?"

Jude Teague didn’t move for two whole beats, as the full implication seemed to strike everyone simultaneously.

Then, in a flash, he reacted. He reached one long leg into the trailer to violently kick the chair nearest him directly into Sister Stephanie’s shins, knocking her backwards against the desk then to the floor. In the same motion he pushed back out of the trailer threshold and slammed the door.

Resa instantly lunged forward, pausing briefly to glance at the fallen woman and to meet Phillip’s stunned eyes as he hurried around the desk.

"Help her," she commanded before slamming through the doorway.

The sudden exposure to bright light left her momentarily blinded but that didn’t prevent her from dashing ahead. She quickly discerned Jude’s figure running into the half-completed apartment structure and ran after him, ignoring the perplexed looks several of the construction workers threw her way.

As she crossed through the front doorway, she knew she was at a disadvantage. This was his turf and thus his environment to control. She had to be doubly on alert.

A quick glance and she noted the exposed drywalls, the bags of dried cement and plaster stacked all around, and the two hulking construction workers, paused in mid-task, as they looked at her with confusion evident on their faces. She ignored them and instead grabbed hold of a nearby piece of rebar (long, heavy steel bar used to support internal construction), holding it before her like a weapon as she advanced. She concentrated through the discord of noise and detected the shuffling sound of quickened footsteps in the next room. They stopped abruptly and she heard a soft crunch as they slid up against the wall to her right. She clenched her jaw, her defenses up and knew what to expect as she proceeded ahead.

And sure enough, the moment she crossed through the doorway her alert peripheral vision caught sight of something coming down swiftly at her from her right.

But she was prepared.

She ducked away from the swing and turned to slam the rebar straight into Jude’s knee, eliciting a cry of pain as he pitched to the ground. The enormous wrench he’d been holding dropped from his hands and Resa moved to kick it out of his reach. But Jude was far from out. As she took a step toward him he suddenly pivoted and brought his good leg around to swipe her feet out from underneath her, dropping her awkwardly onto her left side. She sucked in her breath at the spasm of instant pain she felt from the impact to her gunshot wound but knew she had to quickly shake it off. There wasn’t time.

Jude scrambled to his feet and hurriedly limped across the room, his destination clearly being the yet to be completed far wall that lead directly to the outside. Resa spun to her knees, then leapt to her feet and went after him. She spied, then grabbed a heavy, wooden cable spool and, in a mighty hurl, threw it across the room and into the center of Jude’s back. Bullseye.

He arched in pain and stumbled off-balance to the floor. Resa was on him in a second, seizing the actual cable from the spool and using it to tie his ankles. Jude, however, wasn’t about to give in just yet. He sat up and simultaneously swung a powerful right hook straight at Resa’s jaw. And it would have been painful had it connected. But it didn’t. Instead Resa caught his fist in mid-swing and head-butted him on the bridge of his nose. She heard the crunch of bone and knew at once that it was broken.

He dropped back and brought his hands to his face as he almost cried in pain.

Resa grabbed both his wrists, pulled them to the ground, and brought her face within inches of his.

"That," she said in a low snarl. "Was for Jennifer, you sonuvabitch."

Tears poured down his cheeks, mixing with the blood already streaming from his nose and she could feel the fight go out of him. Nonetheless, she quickly brought the cable up to bind his hands.

"I’m sorry," he sobbed. "I’m so, so sorry..."

"Yeah? Well, you’d better be ‘cause you are in a helluva lot of trouble, Mr. Teague."

"I didn’t mean..." His words trailed off and he slowly drew himself into a fetal position as he now wept openly.

She sat back on her heels and let her eyes travel over his young, ravaged face. She felt more than a twinge of pity for him for he was clearly a weak man. Not physically, to be sure, but weak in spirit, in character. She could tell that right away. But he wasn’t malicious, just scared and panicked. She’d seen it a hundred times before when she was with the Vartans, young boys in over their heads and wondering how the hell they’d ever gotten there in the first place. It had been a weakness she used to relish exploiting to her own advantage...but now it only made her sad.

"I swear I didn’t want anyone to die," he said in a helpless voice. "It wasn’t supposed to...Joey said...Oh, God..." He was again wracked by sobs. "I just needed the money...just the money, that’s all...I never meant..."

"Jude!"

Resa whipped her head in the direction of the voice and saw Phillip Teague in the doorway, his gray eyes the picture of torment as he beheld his younger brother. With quick steps he advanced toward them and Resa stood, taking a step back to allow him access to Jude.

"Oh, Bro..." His voice cracked with anguish as he pulled the younger man into his embrace and buried his face in his hair. "What have you done this time..."

Jude curled closer to Phillip’s chest, looking remarkably more like a frightened little boy than grown man. "I’m so sorry, Philly," he sobbed. "I didn’t mean to hurt anyone...I swear." He sniffed loudly and looked up at Phillip. "You gotta believe me, man."

Tears glistened in the older man’s eyes and he swallowed hard. "I believe you, Jude" he whispered. "I believe you." He wiped the moisture from his brother’s face with his bare hand.

Resa caught a glimpse of motion from the doorway and glanced up to see Sister Stephanie standing there, her eyes glued to the two devastated men. And surprisingly enough, the bitterness and anger of earlier were no longer evident in her expression. Instead she appeared deeply moved by the emotional display between the Teague brothers, her brown eyes ripe with pain and a mutual sorrow. Perhaps it was because she could too easily relate to the raw anguish laid bare before her...or perhaps there was something more...

Phillip raised his head and met Sister Stephanie’s eyes. For a long moment no words were spoken between them, then in a soft, sorrow-filled voice of resignation he said,

"Call the police," and tightened his hold on his brother as he slowly began to rock him to and fro...

Jennifer sat at the end of the long mahogany table, alone in the cavernous dining hall and waited. She’d finished eating about ten minutes earlier but was uncertain whether she was supposed to linger until Sister Clodagh’s return or if wandering about in search of Resa was acceptable.

Sister Clodagh had been called away not long after Jennifer had finished collecting her plate of scrambled eggs, ham and toast and had said she would return shortly but that was well over twenty minutes ago and the college student was growing antsy. A curious, impatient soul, she was not naturally adept at waiting for prolonged periods and did not do so well.

Instead she drummed her fingers...

...and tapped her foot...

...and chewed her lip...

...and looked about in ever-increasing boredom.

Until sixty more seconds passed and she could take no more. She pushed back her chair and stood to go in search of Sister Clodagh.

As luck, circumstance or fate (take your pick) would have it, she found the sister with remarkable ease.

Actually, the fine sister found her.

Jennifer had wandered out the door to the eating hall and made it past several classrooms before she heard her name being called out. Immediately she stopped and poked her head back in through the doorway where she’d heard the voice and there she found Sister Clodagh seated in a bay by a window. Beside her sat an adorable young girl of no more than seven who clutched a well-worn ragdoll with red hair made of string in her dimpled hands.

"Hey there," Jennifer said cheerfully. "I was just looking for you."

"I’m so glad you came by," the nun said as she motioned Jennifer to come all the way in the room. "Sister Helena had to leave to make a phone call a while ago and I didn’t want to leave Danielle here alone while I went to check on her progress."

Jennifer glanced at the child and smiled. She appeared to be part Latino and part African American and, with her big brown eyes and wavy dark hair, was already well on her way to being heart-stoppingly beautiful.

"How can I help?" she asked easily.

"Could you sit with Danielle for a second? Her mother didn’t get the message that school was closed today and we need to notify her as quickly as possible."

"Of course." Jennifer crossed the room to pull up a chair beside the young child.

"Oh, thank you," Sister Clodagh said, then turned to the little girl. "Now, Jennifer here is going to watch you for a few minutes while I phone your Mommy. You mind what she has to say, okay?"

Danielle nodded a little uncertain and clutched her doll tighter to her chest as she peered up at Jennifer through thick lashes.

Sister Clodagh patted Jennifer’s arm. "You’re a Godsend. I’ll only be gone a few minutes." And with that she headed out the classroom door.

Jennifer took a seat beside the young child. Being the aunt to three nephews and two nieces left her fairly confident around children, the key being, she realized early on, not to treat them like children at all but rather as people. It was, to many, a peculiar concept.

"Hi," Jennifer said casually.

The little girl just stared at her for a long moment before whispering, "Hi."

"I’m Jennifer. What’s your name?"

Danielle blinked a couple times, then squirmed. "Danielle LaTrice Morrisey-Brown."

"That’s a pretty name. What grade are you in?"

"Second."

"Second? Really? I would have thought Third at least, you seem so mature."

This brought about a hint of a smile from the little girl since every small child loved to believe they were grown up for their age.

"Is that your dolly?" Danielle nodded. "What’s her name?"

"Annabelle."

"Annabelle? That’s a nice name. What made you call her that?"

"She was already named that," the girl said matter-of-factly and drew the doll away from her chest to point to a spot of embroidery on the small jumpsuit that most distinctly said ‘Annabelle’.

Jennifer stifled a smile. "Of course."

Danielle looked up at her. "Are you new here?" she asked, her comfort level with Jennifer already growing.

"Sort of. I’m staying here for a little while."

"Like a hotel?"

Jennifer laughed. "A little."

"Are you a teacher?"

"No. In fact, I’m a student, just like you."

Dark brown eyes widened. "You are? What grade are you in?"

A slight grin. "Sixteenth. I’m a senior in college. I graduate in May." Provided I live that long, she added wryly to herself.

"Wow. Are you old?"

"Well, I’m twenty three."

Danielle’s expression clearly indicated she considered that to be very old indeed.

"You’re older than my Mommy. She just turned twenty-one," she said guilelessly.

And it was Jennifer’s turn to blink. A twenty one-year old woman with a seven-year old child was just mind-boggling to her. It meant the woman had to have given birth when she was fourteen. Fourteen! When Jennifer had been fourteen she’d been concerned with getting braces and whether or not her parents would allow her to stay out at parties until eleven PM. Those were the ‘Big Issues’ in her life. The idea of having another person to look after, another child...She shook her head in wonder. Such responsibility for one so young seemed so incredibly awesome to her as to be incomprehensible.

Suddenly, as if deciding Jennifer was okay in her estimation, Danielle smiled brightly and reached out to grab her hand.

"Wanna see my school picture?" she asked in an abrupt change of subject that only a child could follow. "They put them up on the wall already."

"Uh, sure," Jennifer responded though in truth she hadn’t the first clue as to what the little girl was referring.

"C’mon." Danielle pulled her to her feet and dragged her after her.

"Wait, wait, wait... Is it far? Because we have to wait for Sister Clo--"

"No, it’s just in the library." She pointed through the doorway to the room directly across the hall. "Right there."

"Okay."

With the single-minded determination of a little dynamo, Danielle led her across the hall to the empty library. The room was fairly large, about four times the size of the classroom they’d just left, and there was a surprising amount of books tucked away in the dozens of wooden cases. Not surprising, however, was the subtle grandeur of the design that matched the rest of the estate.

Danielle brought her to the right side of the room and Jennifer noticed that all of the walls were covered with framed photographs. Hundreds and hundreds of photographs, all, apparently, of various classes of the Sacred Heart through the years.

"This is my class," Danielle said, pointing to a particular picture frame of a group photo where about twenty little girls in green plaid skirts smiled for the camera. "That’s me over there by Margie Alvarez. See?"

Jennifer peered at the picture and easily found the smiling face of her young charge standing beside a tall, willowy girl with a gap-toothed grin.

"Yes." She smiled at the little girl. "You look very pretty."

Danielle beamed. "Thank you. Margie is my best friend in the whole world, you know. We do everything together. One time I fell down and hurt my knee and it was bleeding and she helped me get home and helped me clean it up and put a Band-Aid on it and didn’t make fun of me for crying or anything ‘cause that’s what best friends do, they help each other without making fun of them. Do you have a best friend like that?"

Jennifer paused. "Well...I have friends, of course..."

"But no best friend?"

Jennifer considered this question for a long moment then finally had to admit, "No. I don’t have a best friend like Margie Alvarez."

"You should get one. A best friend I mean. They’re really nice. But you can’t have Margie ‘cause she’s mine."

Jennifer laughed out loud. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

Danielle nodded, satisfied.

Then a crazy little thought entered Jennifer’s mind, prompted though she had yet to realize it, by the simple talk of friendship.

"How far back do these school pictures go?" she wondered aloud.

Danielle looked blank then shrugged her tiny shoulders.

Jennifer nodded to herself, not really expecting an answer, and slowly moved further into the room, her eyes never leaving the wall of class photographs as she scanned the descending years printed on each. It was, of course, like looking for a needle in a haystack, but still her curiosity was aroused and her tenaciousness when that happened was always unwavering.

In all, it took her a little more than a minute before a tingle of awareness went up her spine, not unlike the sensation she’d felt in the garden the evening before when she’d knowingly turned to find Resa standing only a few feet away.

Jennifer stopped and leaned closer to one photograph in particular, her sharp eyes finding that for which she sought with amazing swiftness.

The class year read 1984 and though the face before her was that of a twelve year old girl there was absolutely no mistaking the striking visage of Resa Gustavez. The same long dark hair, the same high cheekbones, and the same extraordinary blue eyes. But what caught Jennifer’s attention most was the dazzling smile on the young girl’s face. Bright, beautiful, and full of innocent confidence, it was like getting a glimpse into the past, at the child she once was, and the burgeoning potential that never came to pass. Here before her was a girl that had no idea what her future held in store, how the fickle hand of fate would soon take from her her younger brother and with him that wonderful and ingenuous smile. She was, in that one moment captured for posterity, simply a young, twelve-year-old schoolgirl like any other, perhaps for one of the last times in her life.

"Who are you looking at?" Danielle asked from behind her.

Unbeknownst to her, a crooked smile tweaked her lips as she unconsciously thought Maybe my Margie Alvarez.

And then caught herself up short.

She frowned at the unexpected turn in her thoughts and took a step back, even as her eyes sought out the image yet again. Jennifer swallowed hard, aware of the sudden onslaught of emotion that overcame her but as yet unable to make sense of it all. Too much was happening too soon and she felt distinctly bewildered.

"Danielle? Jennifer?" a voice called from the hallway.

Danielle’s eyes grew wide. "That’s the Mother Superior!" she said in a tiny voice fraught with alarm. Instinctively she grabbed hold of Jennifer’s hand and squeezed it tightly. "She scares me."

On this, Jennifer was not about to disagree and she squeezed the little girl’s hand in return.

"In here," the college student called out and started to lead Danielle back to the front of the library.

"Kenisha Jones says she’s a witch!" Danielle said in a loud stage whisper.

Jennifer swallowed a grin, fully aware of the irrational quirkiness of children’s fears.

"I don’t think that’s quite true," she whispered back.

They headed to the front of the room just as the Mother Superior, in all her regal bearing, entered with Sister Clodagh trailing. Jennifer couldn’t help noticing that behind the Reverend Mother’s calm demeanor was the unmistakable sign of exhaustion. Deep shadows beneath her eyes told of the little if any sleep the older woman had acquired since the trauma of the early morning hours and she felt a twinge of pathos for her.

"There you are." The Mother Superior glanced back at Sister Clodagh. "I thought you said they were in the class across the hall."

"We were," Jennifer said quickly, not wanting to get the sister in trouble. "But Danielle wanted to show me her class photos."

"They just got put up," Danielle piped in, her voice squeaky as she leaned into Jennifer.

The Mother Superior’s lips thinned in barely disguised irritation. "When you’re told to wait somewhere, it is generally helpful to wait at the specified location," she said a bit too harshly and Jennifer exchanged a guilty look with the young child by her side.

"Sorry," they both said in unison and Jennifer was silently thankful her mother hadn’t put her in convent school as she’d once threatened years ago.

The Mother Superior sighed heavily and Sister Clodagh diplomatically stepped forward, her hand held out to Danielle. "Sweetheart, your Mommy is on her way. Let’s go meet her out front, okay?"

Danielle nodded but gave a quick hug around Jennifer’s waist first. "Thanks for watching me," she said sweetly and Jennifer beamed.

"Thanks for showing me your photograph." A smile. "I’ll let you know when I find my Margie Alvarez, okay?"

Danielle smiled in return. "Okay."

Then the little girl skipped forward (giving the Mother Superior a wide birth) and took hold of Sister Clodagh’s hand. She waved to Jennifer one last time before she and the sister exited the room.

"What was that bit about Margie?" the Mother Superior asked.

"An inside joke between the two of us," Jennifer answered, deliberately cryptic.

The Reverend Mother looked fully at Jennifer. "I see," she said and, after a moment, sighed again. "I apologize for snapping at you earlier. I’m – it’s been a rather stressful morning, what with the school being closed and the reporters roaming about and – everything else. We are all of us a little on edge I think. Myself included."

"I understand," Jennifer said sincerely. "We should have waited in the other room instead of coming here and making you search for us."

The faintest trace of a smile appeared across the older woman’s weary face. "Danielle can be most headstrong when she’s set upon something."

"I picked up on that." Jennifer grinned. "Honestly, she meant no harm. It just made her happy to show off her class picture."

"I understand," the Mother Superior nodded. "The children get quite a little thrill each year when we hang them. It’s evolved into quite the event."

"That’s a nice tradition to have. Gives the place a real sense of history."

"Yes it does. We’ve done it for as long as I can remember now." Just then a curious expression stole across the Mother Superior’s face as she glanced from Jennifer to further into the room and back. She tipped her head to one side. "Resa has some of her pictures here you know."

Jennifer felt a slight tingle of embarrassment. "Um, yeah...actually, I’ve already seen one of them." Oddly the Mother Superior didn’t seem the least surprised and that only served to increase Jennifer’s discomfort. She shifted her feet and murmured, "She looked so young."

"Yes, well, we’ve all changed a great deal since then...for the better I think in Resa’s case."

Jennifer’s eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Only that you think it of her. I got the impression you and Resa had, well, a sort of negative history."

To her amazement the Mother Superior laughed. "That’s a very tactful way of putting it, but the truth is we clashed bitterly at every turn during her entire stay at the Sacred Heart. I don’t think I’ve ever been frustrated more by a pupil in all my life." The Mother Superior started walking out of the room and Jennifer dutifully followed her out into the hallway. "Resa was extraordinarily bright and stubborn," the older woman continued. "...always a tumultuous combination in a child, and I must admit I didn’t have the first clue how to handle her." Her eyes grew plaintive. "A part of me can’t help but wonder that if perhaps I had done a better job with her, if we all had, things would have turned out different..."

As they walked, they passed the dining hall and several classrooms, all conspicuously empty.

"I think Resa’s too much of her own woman to let anyone influence her," Jennifer said.

"I don’t know about that. You seem to have a way with her."

"Me?" she asked, startled to the quick.

"Yes."

"How -- how do you mean?"

They rounded the corner and Jennifer found herself once again in the impressive lobby.

"Yesterday, in my office, she and I slipped into our old roles of antagonists and I baited her shamefully (for which I have asked forgiveness from the Holy Father) until she very nearly stormed out. But something stopped her. And I think that something was you...You see, instead of leaving, as I expected she would, she came back and she did everything in her power to convince me to keep you here, to keep you safe, her own circumstances being of no concern. Quite extraordinary. In all the time I’ve known her, I have never seen her put the care of someone else before herself. Not once...until you." She shook her head in amazement as they stepped outside into the front yard of the convent.

"I think she’s changed a lot in general," Jennifer said.

The Reverend Mother smiled. "And I think you underestimate yourself. You’re a very strong person, Jennifer. You may yet be too young to recognize it, but it’s there. Others can see it...I can see it, and Resa can see it, too."

Jennifer felt a hot blush creep up her neck and face and couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead she looked away...

...and found herself staring into a bright light, behind the glare of which she realized was the lens of a television news camera.

She started back in surprise. Wha-?

A tall, blonde female reporter, impeccably coifed and attired, stepped out from behind the cameraman and approached them both, holding her microphone before her almost as if it was a weapon.

"Sister Mary Elizabeth? Hi, Jackie Martin, Channel 5 News. We’re here to get your reaction to the arrest of one Jude Teague in connection to last night’s tragic death of your Order’s very own Sister Therase. How do you feel about this turn of events and do you think he should be prosecuted for what happened to Sister Therase?"

Jennifer deftly stepped away from the Mother Superior’s side. The Reverend Mother was clearly as startled as she but, as one whom had long ago accepted the reigns of leadership, she recovered quickly and with admirable aplomb.

"I’m afraid I was unaware of the arrest of a second person in connection to the death of our dear sister. Is this a recent development?" the older woman inquired.

Jennifer kept her eyes on the older nun even as she deliberately maneuvered behind the reporter and, more to the point, the cameraman with every intention to listen to any reply given...until something made her stop...and glance over her shoulder...and see none other than Resa turn the corner into the open doorway of the convent entrance.

She felt a heady rush of pleasure at seeing the ebony-haired woman followed closely by the unmistakable surge of an almost dizzying relief. She’s here...she didn’t abandon me...I’m not alone...

But a quick look at Resa’s intense expression as she took in the sight before her was enough to make Jennifer’s smile fade. The college student glanced from Resa to the camera crew then back and locked with a pair of familiar blue eyes. No words needed to pass between them for Jennifer to intuitively know Resa wanted her to come to her side. Which she did without hesitation even as the former gang leader ducked off to the left through some trees, well out of sight of the others.

Jennifer found Resa between the convent wall and an enormous eucalyptus tree, pacing in obvious irritation, her dark brows knitted and her body taut with tension. Yet none of that mattered a whit to Jennifer who knew only that she was near giddy at seeing her again.

"Hi," she said, aware at how her face was beaming but powerless to stop.

Resa flicked a glance at her. "You’re awfully chipper," she murmured wryly.

"I missed you."

This revelation caught Resa off-guard and she stopped her pacing. "You what?"

"I missed you," she repeated deliberately with a little shrug. "You weren’t here when I woke up and I had no idea where you were, since leaving a note when you go out somewhere was obviously not a courtesy you were taught as a child, and I got worried that you may have left me here on my own which, I’d like to go on record as saying would really suck if you’re even considering it because as nice as the sisters are and all, you and I are in this whole mess together and I refuse to be discarded at the first opportunity so if that’s what’s on your mind you can just forget it..."

She paused to draw in a deep breath, surprised at how her words had so quickly escaped from her lips to boil over into a veritable spew of emotion that left Resa staring at her in utter bemusement and herself with a blush so deep she felt the tips of her ears grow warm...But then a gradual hint of a smile appeared in the other woman’s eyes that was soon echoed in those of the younger woman.

"…okay?" Jennifer finished in a calmer voice.

Resa’s gaze swept over her face with a thoroughness that threatened to bring back the crimson to the younger woman’s cheeks and slowly nodded once. "Okay," she agreed, then nodded to indicate Jennifer’s bruised eye. "The swelling’s not as bad as I thought it would be."

Jennifer grinned and pointed briefly at Resa’s lip. "Neither’s yours."

Resa arched a brow. "A wise woman made me put an ice compress on it before I went to bed."

"A wise woman, huh? How true."

Resa laughed and suddenly both women were smiling brightly at each other, all else -- the death, the fear, the uncertainty -- forgotten. And for the briefest moment Jennifer was absolutely, irrationally positive Resa was about to tell her she missed her, too. But the former gang leader remained silent on the subject and instead glanced over Jennifer’s shoulder.

"How long have the news crews been here?" she asked.

"I don’t know. I just walked out with the Mother Superior and there they were. She said something earlier about having to deal with the reporters wandering around so I suppose there’ve been others."

The frown returned to Resa’s face. "If there haven’t been there soon will be."

"What do you mean?"

Resa focused her attention on her. "The second thief has been caught."

Jennifer’s brows shot up in surprise. "How? Who -- ?" She paused mid-sentence then the realization dawned upon her. "You were involved weren’t you?"

Resa shrugged. "A little. Mostly it was Sister Stephanie’s persistence and a little luck."

"Sister Stephanie?" she repeated incredulously.

"Yeah. She had a hunch and ended up at the construction site across the street." Resa pointed in the direction of the events from earlier. "As it turns out, the second thief is the foreman there. Seems he has a history of drug abuse and other assorted problems and he got suckered into the robbery by the guy they captured last night, as a way to pay off some serious debts."

"How did you find all this out?"

"He confessed."

A single blonde brow arched knowingly. "And you wouldn’t possibly have had anything to do with getting that confession, would you?"

Resa pointed to her chest and made an innocent face as if to say, Who? Me? Jennifer smiled. "Uh-huh, I thought so...How bad did you hurt your shoulder

this time?"

"What makes you think I hurt my shoulder?"

"You winced when you pointed."

Resa was clearly surprised and a little impressed by the observation. "It’s not really that bad. I just fell on it in the fight -- "

"Fight?"

"Yeah."

"You were in another fight?"

"Only a little one."

Jennifer shook her head in amusement. "Do you ever do anything the easy way?"

The corner of Resa’s mouth twitched. "Not often."

Jennifer rolled her eyes and reached out to seize Resa’s right wrist to pull her after her in the direction of the guest quarters.

"Come on, let’s have a look."

"This is unnecessary," Resa said in mild protest even as she allowed Jennifer to lead her through the apartment’s front door.

"Dr. Marcus said we had to change the bandages twice a day so just consider this part of that and take a seat," she replied in a tone that refused to take no for an answer.

Now, Resa Gustavez was not someone who took instructions easily or well. Indeed she was far too accustomed to being the one to give orders for her own good...but in this instance, to her own amazement, she did as directed and sat on the living room sofa without another word. She silently watched Jennifer’s figure retreat into the other room as she went to retrieve the bag of medical supplies and couldn’t help the little smile that crept up on her face or deny the emotional reaction she had at being in the girl’s company once again. It was almost like...relief. Like she’d been holding her breath all morning and was finally able to release it. To exhale. And she felt a tremendous surge of contentment that left her almost light-headed. It was a sensation so foreign to her she almost didn’t recognize it but conceded it was ultimately too powerful to be ignored.

I missed you, Jennifer had said, no doubt impulsively.

Well I missed you, too, the former gang leader thought, even as she realized it was a foolish response. She had only been away from her for a few hours, nothing of consequence. And when this ridiculous situation was over it was their destiny to part company entirely, likely never to see each other again. After all, Jennifer was a college student who’d grown up in the Mid-West while she was a Latina gangsta from the bario...they had nothing in common, save an irrelevant interest in astronomy. Truly nothing.

And yet the mere idea of parting with Jennifer made her chest hurt and her fists clench in an instinctive reaction.

Resa sighed and ran a hand over her face in frustration. Oh, this was bad. She was growing attached, she could feel it, and she dreaded the implication. It didn’t do for someone like her; it wasn’t her way and it only led to pain. It always had. But what could she do? They were embroiled in this disastrous situation together and she’d promised not to leave her alone, a promise which she took quite seriously. Abandoning Jennifer was not a consideration... but to stay...ahhh, that, too, presented a dilemma, perhaps with even greater repercussions.

Hearing the sounds of Jennifer’s approach, she reached up to unbutton her shirt then gently eased out of the left half so the Kid could better reach the wound. Never having been uncomfortable with her body, it didn’t occur to her that she was half-clad in only her bra until she saw Jennifer’s face when she popped back in the room. The younger woman was on the verge of saying something when her eyes fell on Resa’s bared figure and she paused so abruptly that only a strangled little sound eked out. Startled green eyes met hers and Resa couldn’t help thinking the girl would never make a good poker player. Her every emotion was on display the moment it hit her and right now she was clearly disconcerted. Resa briefly considered putting her shirt at least partially back on but realized that was impractical...and besides, a rapscallion part of her nature rather enjoyed the tease.

Jennifer quickly cleared her throat and moved to sit beside the imposing other woman.

"Turn around," she said tightly, twirling her finger to indicate Resa should present her back to her and the former gang leader complied. She drew her long, black hair over her right shoulder and felt Jennifer’s warm fingers carefully peel off the adhesive tape that bound the gauze to her until the wound was exposed to the cool air.

"How’s it look?" She automatically tried to glance back but her face was gently pushed forward again by Jennifer’s fingers against her jaw.

"Good. No tearing or bleeding from this angle."

She couldn’t resist looking back again to meet Jennifer’s eyes. "Not bad for a vet, hmmmm?" she said with a smirk of self-satisfaction.

Jennifer returned the sarcastic grin with one of her own. "If ever I get shot, he’s my man. Now face forward, you’re twisting the skin," she ordered in a low voice.

Resa did as she was told and found herself, in the ensuing interlude, growing increasingly conscious of the younger woman’s every move and of the acute quiet that descended over them both. A couple minutes more passed, broken only by the almost hypnotic sound of each other’s breathing and the distinctly elevated rhythm of her own heartbeat, when suddenly she felt the cold hydrogen peroxide compress press around the edge of the wound. She instinctively flinched whereupon Jennifer’s warm hand pressed against the curve of her back.

"Sorry," the younger woman said, apologizing for the minor shock.

She then felt Jennifer’s thumb lightly brush over a raised bit of flesh on her lower shoulder blade, a scar from an old injury. One of many that adorned her body.

"How did you get this?" the younger woman asked quietly.

"Knife fight," she explained in a matter-of-fact voice.

Resa heard the younger woman suck in her breath and then felt a shiver of warmth against her back as she released it again. "Was it bad?"

"Knicked a lung."

"Jesus, Resa...Did you at least go to a hospital then?"

She shook her head. "We had our own doctors."

A pause, then, "Dr. Marcus?" Jennifer said, her voice raised in realization.

"Yes. He was my personal physician. Saved my life more than once."

"That -- surprises me...How did he --?"

"Drugs. He was addicted and in debt and I used it against him." She glanced back and met the other woman’s eyes with a frankness that bordered on challenge. "I did that a lot, Jennifer. Used people until I didn’t need them and then tossed them aside without a second thought...It was my specialty and I was damn good at it." Her bluntness was deliberate. It was important to her to be absolutely truthful with this woman.

Jennifer’s answering gaze, however, was both firm and unwavering. "The key word is ‘did.’ You’re not that person anymore, Resa," she said simply and she spoke with such conviction that even a part of Resa wanted to believe...

Desperately.

They remained still like that for a long moment, eyes locked, as a strong current passed between them, linking them, binding them on levels neither had before thought to consider and deeper than either could dare comprehend.

Then the corners of Jennifer’s eyes crinkled in a small smile.

"Face forward," she said softly and once again Resa, with her own crooked grin, complied.

Jennifer said no more for a long moment and Resa heard the sound of the medical tape being unspooled and snipped as another clean gauze square was applied to her shoulder.

"Okay, now the other side."

Resa shifted her position on the sofa to face the younger woman. "You’re getting pretty good at this," she commented in a low murmur.

"Hmmmm," was the non-committal reply and Resa noticed Jennifer’s intense eyes were focused exclusively on the wound, refusing to waver even a fraction, perhaps a little afraid to. It afforded Resa the opportunity to study her at close range, if only for a few minutes and she let her gaze roam freely.

God, she barely looks old enough to be out of high school, let alone about ready to graduate from college, Resa marveled. Wispy bangs fell softly over her brow as the rest of her thick, golden hair pulled into a ponytail only served to heighten her youthful appearance. Her complexion was nearly flawless, faintly tanned skin broken only by the faintest creases around her eyes that would some day form laugh lines and bespoke of the fact she would age well. At this close range, she could detect the fragrance of baby powder and the lavender soap from the bathroom mixed with her own personal scent that Resa had to admit she found pleasing. She also noticed the younger woman had a penchant for chewing on her full lower lip when vexed by some problem or in deep concentration, as she was now, and she found the habit adorable. Luis has done the same thing, especially when he was trying to paint something or draw or...

Resa suddenly experienced an almost violent spasm of emotional pain that slammed into her chest and left her nearly breathless. She gasped despite herself and briefly closed her eyes as she waited for the sharpness to slowly recede. Luis...

She felt Jennifer’s hand cup her upper arm and Resa looked to see the girl’s expression was one of great concern.

"Are you all right?"

Resa swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, it’s just...memories." She sighed and raked her fingers through her hair before clarifying, "Of Luis."

Jennifer nodded in understanding and gave Resa’s arm a light, supportive squeeze. "Do you think about him often?" she asked quietly.

"No...I make it a habit not to...It..." Her words trailed away as another, less intense wave of unexpected sorrow clutched at her.

"Hurts?" Jennifer finished.

Blue eyes met green. "Yeah," she admitted in a low voice. "Too much."

There followed a long pause during which she struggled to get her emotions under control. The Padre had told her someftime ago that she had never properly grieved for her younger brother, that she’d fooled herself into believing she’d shut off that part of her soul but he warned her not to believe the grief had simply left her. One day it would return, he said, and she would have to confront those emotions...she couldn’t ignore them forever. Yet the barriers had been up for such a very long time they seemed indomitable...

Now, for the first time, she wasn’t so sure.

She reached up to pat Jennifer’s hand and smiled weakly, certain that smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"I’ll be fine," she assured the college student who was clearly doubtful. "I promise."

Jennifer turned her hand to lace her fingers with Resa’s. "I know...but, if you ever want to talk about it...I’m here for you."

Resa closed her eyes and let a fresh wave of emotion pour into her. Jennifer would never truly know how much that simple statement meant to the former gang leader, how it was only the second time in her life that she’d even been told those words. I’m here for you. Father Hector had professed a similar sentiment to her not long after they’d met but she hadn’t believed him then. He was a man of God; it was his duty to say such things. Or so she thought at the time. Now she knew him to be a good and decent person in his own right and had no doubt he meant what he said. But Jennifer saying this now...saying it because she was sincere...because she cared...it held a weight of meaning the likes of which Resa had never before experienced.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you," she said, almost not recognizing the garroted sound of her own voice. What is happening to me, she wondered in amazement and she experienced the slightest tremor of fear. This was all too new to her, too sudden and raw. She felt, for the first time in longer than she could recall, the disturbing sensation of being very nearly overwhelmed and she didn’t care for it in the slightest. She was too long in complete control of her emotions to abdicate freely or without a fight, much like a junkie experiencing their first taste of withdrawal and wanting to return to the comfort of their addiction. No matter what the ultimate cost.

As if sensing Resa’s desperate desire to change the subject, Jennifer glanced down a fraction then back up again. "What does that say?" she asked.

Resa blinked twice in confusion, then followed the direction of her eyes to the area just above her left breast and saw the tattoo to which Jennifer referred. The emblem was of a small heart pierced by a broadsword around which the words ‘corazon guerrero’ were curved in elaborate script and as Resa reached up to touch it, unpleasant memories flooded back.

"It’s Spanish for ‘warrior heart,’" she explained, then clenched her jaw in bitterness. "It’s what Alfons once said to me...that I had the heart of a warrior. . .and the Vartans gave me the nickname ‘The Warrior’ from that."

"Why don’t you get it removed?"

"No...If ever there does come a time when I should forget…" She patted her chest over the tattoo. "…it’s there to remind me."

She watched Jennifer frown and she sensed the younger woman wanted to delve further into the subject, but was hesitant. She wants to know why I left the Vartans but she doesn’t know how to ask. Resa thought. She’s afraid of trespassing on a forbidden subject but her curiosity is great...She wants to know more about me. The realization came to her on a subconscious level and it left her feeling strangely exhilarated, as if she was privy to the other woman’s thoughts, as if she knew her with a sense of recognition that ran so deep it was near primal in its origin...

Green eyes slowly raised up to meet hers and she saw, much to her surprise, that the girl was feeling it, too.

A shudder went through her like a subtle shockwave of awareness.

Then Jennifer glanced at something over Resa’s shoulder and the former gang leader turned to see Sister Stephanie, still sans her habit, enter the room.

She stopped in her tracks.

What a sight they must have presented to the young nun if the bottomless silence that followed was any indication. Not that her proximity to Jennifer bothered Resa in the slightest since she was quite aware their situation was really quite innocent but she nonetheless released Jennifer’s hand and leaned away from her, vaguely aware of the grip disappointment had on her chest.

"I can come back," Sister Stephanie blurted out awkwardly and this time Resa did take a degree of pleasure in seeing the flush of embarrassment come upon the other woman’s face.

But not upon seeing a similar flush stain Jennifer’s cheeks. That would not do.

"Jennifer is helping me change my bandages," the former gang leader explained as she casually started to draw up the left of her shirt back over her injured shoulder.

Sister Stephanie’s brows drew together in perplexity. "Bandages for what?"

"It’s a long story."

"Resa got shot a couple days ago while protecting me from the Vartans," Jennifer chimed in with admirable succinctness and put her hand up to stop Resa from buttoning further.

Wry lip pursed in amusement. "Or, not that long a story," Resa murmured and was momentarily distracted as Jennifer returned to finish wrapping up the entrance wound.

Brown eyes clearly reflected shock. "You never said anything," the young nun said almost accusingly.

"Subject never came up. Besides, I’m fine now."

"Shouldn’t you be in a hospital?"

"I’m taking care of her," Jennifer said with a fair amount of pride in her voice as she sat back from her task, her eyes meeting Resa’s only briefly.

Resa smiled at her before turning back to Sister Stephanie.

"Did you want something?" she asked.

"I--" the young nun paused, suddenly seeming rather shy and a tad uncomfortable. She glanced at Jennifer and back at Resa and pressed her lips together as if she were debating how to continue.

Fortunately for her, however, Jennifer was a perceptive lass and quickly grasped that her presence was the cause of the nun’s hesitation.

She stood abruptly.

"I’m going to go outside and pretend to be terribly interested in the gardens again," she said cheerfully. "Come find me when you’re done here." And with that she headed out the front door, with Resa surreptitiously watching her every step.

Once they were alone, the former gang leader turned her attention back to the young nun and found brown eyes watching her with a degree of curiosity.

"How’s Phillip Teague?" Resa asked directly. When last she’d seen Sister Stephanie she was counseling the distraught man as his brother was being taken to jail for booking. Resa, having completed her second police statement in less than 24 hours, hadn’t felt it was her place to intrude on such a moment of obvious intimacy and thus decided to head back to the convent. And, a part of her realized, deep down she wanted to find Jennifer, too.

"Coping," Sister Stephanie said as she moved to sit on the edge of the chair not far from Resa, the strain she was under readily apparent in her every movement. "He’s been through numerous ordeals with his younger brother before, but this, I gather, is the worst. I told him I’d be available to talk should he need to later and I think he appreciated that."

"I’m sure he did," Resa murmured, careful not to let sarcasm seep into her measured tones. She had no doubt Phillip Teague would appreciate just about anything from the young nun.

"I, um," Sister Stephanie started again then paused, and dropped her gaze to her nervous fingers dancing in her lap. "I came by to apologize," she said at last.

Dark brows shot up in surprise. "Oh?"

"Yes." She bit her lip. "I realize I haven’t exactly been...amicable since you arrived here." She shifted her position then conceded, "In fact, I’ve been very rude which I had no right to be and I-I..." She stopped, clearly embarrassed by her stammering, then glanced up. "I’m sorry."

The brown eyes that met her own were sincere but for Resa sincerity was not something in which she easily trusted, especially when she didn’t understand the reason for its sudden appearance. The change in attitude confused her and, considering she was still experiencing the after-effects of the earlier emotional onslaught, being further put off-balance was not a state of mind she welcomed.

"What brings this about?" she asked not bothering to hide her wariness.

But Sister Stephanie’s look of complete candor remained steadfast. "You, today...You didn’t need to help me. I realize that. But you did and because of your actions, we will have answers about what happened to Therase that we wouldn’t have otherwise had. For that I’m thankful. You even put yourself at risk not just today but last night, too," She sighed "...and all I’ve done is attack you since your return. I even quarreled with you in Phillip’s office when you were only trying to help. It’s very wrong of me." Sister Stephanie stood unconsciously and began to pace. "I also wasn’t entirely honest with you yesterday," she continued.

Resa’s eyes followed the nun’s movements. "How so?"

"When you asked before if we’d met, I said no and that’s...not entirely true." She paused to let her gaze be drawn out the window. "You see, I grew up here in the Sacred Heart. I didn’t have any family of my own and the Sisters here raised me since I was nine years old. I was here the same time as you and even though we technically never met, I very much knew who you were." A small smile. "All the students did."

"Oh, really?"

"Of course. You were the most interesting thing to come to Sacred Heart in a very long time. Everyone knew Resa Gustavez."

This bit of news surprised Resa. She’d never taken the time to consider her popularity in school, such musings were too trivial and inconsequential to her, but she vaguely recalled being secure in herself while at the Sacred Heart and such people were often looked upon favorably by others. Particularly by the others who had yet to get a good enough grasp on their own sense of identity.

"I don’t remember you," Resa admitted.

"I’d be surprised if you did. I was four grades below you and we only spoke once the whole time you were here. You bumped into me and accidentally knocked my books to the ground. I remember you said you were sorry and helped me gather them together again and then went on your way...A week later you left the school and never returned. It wasn’t too long after we started hearing the stories...about you and the Vartans and...and..."

"Yeah, I know," Resa waved her on, not in the mood to discuss that part of her life at the moment.

"It was difficult to reconcile the girl I used to see here at the Sacred Heart, the one who was always laughing and getting into silly trouble with the gang leader we heard about. It was shocking."

Resa made no comment. She was fully aware of the reaction her past had brought to others and shocking was very often the least violent of the responses she received.

"I realize now, on some level, I felt...I think we all felt betrayed to a degree. That you rejected us and our values by embracing the world of violence and hatred...It’s illogical, I know, but when you turned back up here yesterday, I must confess I was particularly angry."

"I noticed," Resa commented dryly.

Sister Stephanie cringed a little. "My behavior was out of line, I know. Therase took me to task over it. She does that--" The nun paused abruptly, her cheeks paling, and turned back to the window as she quickly composed her emotions before quietly continuing. "She did that for me all the time. Helped me to see when I was allowing my naivete and--and arrogance to rule my conduct. She would often tell me that I hadn’t seen enough of the world to understand that, sometimes, good people are forced into the most grievous behavior that to the outside appears incomprehensible. But we must work to look beyond the surface in order to find the whole story." Her fingers absently toyed with the window sash, the look in her eyes was a thousand miles away. "She said I am too quick to judge...and to condemn. It is not the right attitude for a woman in my calling. I know that...But...I don’t know if I can yet face the alternative..."

She stared out the window as several moments of silence passed before she seemed to come out of her reverie and look back at Resa. The former gang leader was certain the nun had practically forgotten she was there, her last words having been spoken more as an admission to herself than anything else.

Sister Stephanie blushed faintly. "Anyway, I wanted to apologize to you. It’s obvious you’re striving to change you life and that’s worthy of infinite admiration."

Resa shrugged. "Yeah, well we’ll see how it goes," she said noncommittally as she stood to tuck her shirt into her jeans.

The young nun frowned. "You’re not worried are you?"

She chuckled to herself, suddenly feeling as old as Methuselah. "Sister Stephanie, when you have seen and done as much as I have seen and done, you learn that you should always be worried."

"But, you have Jennifer to help you," Sister Stephanie said as if that would make all the difference and if Resa hadn’t been so thoroughly taken aback she would have marveled at the innocence behind that statement.

"No, it’s not like that. We--our situation together is temporary. When this is all over, we’ll part." And even as she said the words she could feel the ache return at the mere concept alone; the reality was something she didn’t even want to consider.

Careful, Resa, she cautioned herself. Be very careful.

"I hope not," the young nun said simply. "Friendships are important and it’s clear you both care about each other. That’s very precious, you know. You should cherish it while you still have it," her voice grew low with her own pain, "because you never know when it will be taken away."

* * * *

She noticed a wall of clouds had started to accumulate on the western horizon over the Malibu area and wondered if the forecast called for rain. It just might. LA, though ostensibly a desert community, was known to have its occasional cloudburst from time to time, particularly in the spring where the weather could change seemingly at will. Of course she hadn’t the first clue what the elements held in store or, for that matter, what was going on in the rest of the world since she hadn’t seen or heard a news report in three days. A hurricane could be threatening for all she knew. Or the country could be at war, once again; it was all a mystery. She felt so removed, so isolated, and it contributed to her growing though strangely blithe sense of disorientation. It’s a little like being tipsy on champagne, she thought pleasantly, realizing she hadn’t thought about school or her friends or much of anything else from her normal life in quite some time. It was as if they belonged to a whole other part of her and she was too interested in what was going on here and now to consider them. Reality will come soon enough, a little voice inside her whispered. Enjoy...

Yes, she thought. That’s good advice...I will do just that. I will enjoy...

Jennifer inhaled deeply the sweet, fertile air that she always associated with gardens and absently noted the beautiful way in which the milky vines dipped from the branches of the nearby rubbertrees. This section of the convent garden, tucked off in a far corner, was different than the one Sister Therase had shown her yesterday, less regimented, a little wilder. Here the pathway was half-hidden by dirt and stray leaves and as she walked further in, she noted how thick the overhead branches grew until the sky above was nearly obscured from view. Only the occasional prism of pure sunlight broke through and bathed her upturned face.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a congregation of pill bugs ambling along the ground beneath some bushes and she knelt to get a closer look. For some strange reason she always thought they were the cutest little bugs even as a child and, despite an otherwise aversion to all things insect-like, had been rather fascinated with them. Strange as that may seem.

The little creatures scurried around in what appeared to be haphazard chaos and their simplicity made her smile. On impulse she reached out to pick one up. It instinctively curled into a tight, protective ball at her touch but, after a moment as she just held it, the little bug slowly relaxed and opened up, as if sensing there was no longer any danger to be had. Comfortable now, it began to crawl across her open palm and up to the tip of her finger where it paused to get a good look at its surroundings. A few moments passed as bug and human amicably regarded each other, then Jennifer carefully placed it back on the ground where she’d found it and watched as the rollipolli hurried on its way.

Not surprisingly, it reminded her of Resa. As, she was finding, most things did of late.

The fascination she’d sensed at the beginning had only succeeded in growing deeper and more resolute and she decided she liked it. Liked being around Resa. Enjoyed her company. Enjoyed the feelings her company carried. Jennifer was by nature a fairly social creature and had a good nucleus of friends with whom she often hung out. But, as she’d admitted to Danielle, she had no ‘best friend’ in the traditional sense of the term...or even in the nontraditional sense. And she missed that. It was, she was only now realizing, something she’d longed for her entire life but had never come close to attaining. That feeling of connection, of infinite understanding that transcended even language and went straight into one’s own core being. She had never been able to look into someone’s eyes and think I know you, I know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, what you want...I know you...

Never...until Resa.

Jennifer was not a religious person. Not that she had problems with those who were or really most religions for that matter. But the following of a set of rules ascribed by others as a means of achieving spiritual enlightenment struck her almost as being too akin to a video game for her comfort level. The player -- each of us -- goes through a series of tests -- life in general -- with the hope of attaining a specific goal -- being one with God, however that God was defined. To Jennifer, that was always too simplistic, too...man-made. She had yet to come up with a definition of ‘God’ or spirituality that satisfied even her own curiosity but it was a question she, like so many others, had been fascinated with for some time. She had investigated various religions, interested in their individual maxims, and curious about which aspects of the mythic stories and doctrines corresponded. Much to her surprise, there were many.

One of the most fascinating beliefs she found was that of reincarnation, an idea held by numerous religions around the world and one that persisted across eons of civilization. It was, she always thought, a terribly romantic, if wholly implausible, conceit, a way for human kind to say we go on, we do not die, our consciousness will continue to exist...a way to combat the paralyzing fear of the alternative. She read books and heard stories about how people recognized others as friends or family or lovers whom, they insisted, came from their past lives and spoke of the feeling of mutual connection that existed between them. But, as with most frustrated romantics, she had always had her doubts.

Until Resa.

How else could she define it? The cognizance that passed between them, the overpowering awareness that engulfed them both, for she knew with inexorable certainty the former gang leader had felt it, too. It was like nothing she’d ever before experienced and found it awakened within her an almost painful yearning. I know you, she’d thought. I know you...and you know me, too, don’t you?...But how? How is this that makes no sense even possible? How?

How, indeed.

It was then that her eyes alighted upon a peculiar stone structure swaddled in vines that seemed to rise up as if it were one with its natural milieu. So much so she’d practically overlooked it until she was virtually at its front door and then she wondered how she could have missed it at all.

She moved to get a closer look.

The white marble construction and iron latticework reminded her of some of the mausoleums she’d seen on her trips to New Orleans and Paris and she realized with a sudden wave of recognition that this was none other than the tomb of Xavier and Marianna. What else could it be?

She released the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding and cautiously, with near reverence, moved up the two steps to the front of the burial vault to place her open hand upon the cool, heavy, and distinctly immovable door. She reached down to grip the handle and pulled with all her strength but it wouldn’t budge. It didn’t even come close. She had serious doubts if the vault had been opened since the time of its initial closing and she caught her lower lip between her teeth in frustration. What a disappointment. She had so wanted to go inside and then wondered why it was so important to her.

The moist earth behind her muffled the sounds of approaching footsteps but that didn’t stop her from recognizing the growing sensation of Resa’s approach.

"You know, it’s funny," Jennifer said without turning around.

There was a slight pause before Resa’s warm voice answered, "What is?"

"How I just know when you’re there...I’ve never been able to do that before." She glanced over her shoulder and locked gazes with a pair of blue eyes. "Weird, huh?"

Resa held her stare in silence, for how long she couldn’t say, but she felt precariously close to drowning before the other woman murmured, "Yeah," in a soft voice that made her shiver.

Then Resa glanced away and nodded at the tomb. "You can’t get in," she said. "It’s been shut up longer than anyone can remember."

"Has no one been inside?"

Resa shook her head and moved up the two steps to stand beside her. "I used to come here all the time when I was a kid and would always push on that door until I was exhausted." She leaned her good shoulder against the side of the crypt and patted the solid marble door. "But it never opened and I finally gave up." She looked over at Jennifer with a wry glint in her eye. "Guess they want their privacy."

A small smile. "Guess so."

And for a brief moment, they just delighted in each other’s company.

Then Resa sighed. "Speaking of which," she continued. "It looks like the Sacred Heart is going to be crawling with reporters for the rest of the day. Which is bad for us."

"Yeah, I figured as much." She rubbed her forehead in consternation. "What do we do?"

"We have two choices. We could stay here all day, locked up in the guest apartment with the blinds closed..." Jennifer cringed. "Exactly."

"Or?"

"Or we can borrow the one and only car the sisters keep in residence and keep away until tonight. I imagine the reporters will all be gone by then and we should be safe."

Jennifer frowned. "Do you think the sisters would allow us to borrow their car?"

"Sister Stephanie just offered it to me."

She stiffened. "Oh...That was...nice of her." And it was...Truly. So why did she feel a hot flame of jealousy flare up within her? And why did she suddenly have an earnest desire to know the content of the nun’s conversation with Resa? She cleared her throat. "Is she coming with?" she asked and then thought, Oh, please don’t let that have sounded as bitchy as it felt...

Unfortunately, if Resa’s slightly raised eyebrow was any indication, it had.

"No. It’ll just be us," the raven-haired woman said evenly but Jennifer could have sworn she detected a smidgen of satisfaction in her eyes.

"Oh," she muttered and felt thoroughly ridiculous which was often jealousy’s residual effect. What did she have to be jealous over anyway? She shook her head a little, to shed the vestiges of that pointless emotion.

"So, where will we go?" she asked with forced cheer.

"I dunno...just..." Resa tipped her head up, peered through the canopy of branches and said somewhat wistfully, "...somewhere far away."

In another part of the city, tucked within a beautiful house that braved the decrepitude of its surrounding neighborhood, a tall man stood staring out a large window, his back to the opulent room and its only other occupant.

"A convent? Are you certain?" the man asked calmly.

Manny, his nose bandaged and face still rather swollen, nodded, trying to control his eagerness. "Yeah, Fat Boy watches TV, like, all fuckin’ day, you know, sometimes two at a fuckin’ time. He’s, like, always up to date on all sorts of shit, you know? Sees every-fuckin’-thing."

The tall man truly could not have cared less about the viewing habits of Fat Boy or, in truth, much else besides attaining his one and only goal. He turned away from the window to face Manny.

"And he saw Resa?" he asked, dark eyes alight with impatience and a certain hunger.

"No, no. He saw the chick she’s with. Said he was, like, a hundred percent sure it was the same blonde bitch from Palo’s bar, the one that – " He pointed to his nose. "Fat Boy said she was at the convent where that nun, like, fuckin’ died last night. Saw her plain as day."

"Do you believe him?"

Manny shrugged, a little nervous. "Yeah. Fat Boy’s lazy as hell but he’s got a memory like a fuckin’...uh, I don’t know what but, you know, it’s good and shit. I used to copy off him from school all the fuckin’ time and did real good. He says it’s the same bitch, I believe him."

Alfons Vega nodded, satisfied. If this Fat Boy was wrong he, and Manny, would be dealt with accordingly...But if he was right...

"It seems worth checking out," he said smoothly and turned back to the window, the light playing off his long black hair in such a manner it created the momentary illusion of a halo of fire. "I’ll see to it personally."

Continued...Part 5

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