As Tara moved through the room, Tara noticed that one particular bookcase was locked- some of the oldest books seemed to be in there.  Tara took just a moment to look over the lock. She hoped she would not have to do something as unsavory as break into a Nun’s locked cabinet to learn what she came for.

“A future Abbess, perhaps,” said the Abbess, who’d materialized in the library. Tara could move silently in the woods, but the Abbess had lived here for over fifty years.

Tara froze.  “Forgive me.”  She said ashamed of her unspoken thought to break into something belonging to nuns.  

“For what, precisely? Looking at books?” She sat in one of the four chairs in the library.

Tara swallowed, “People lock things away they’d rather the casual visitor did not bother with.  I … I shouldn’t have touched the lock or the case.” She furrowed her brow.

“Would it make you feel any better if I told you I did the same thing, during my first night here?”

Tara paused and glanced back to the shelf and then to the Abbess. She smiled and blushed, “It’s just, I’ve never been good at keeping my eyes away from things that aren’t mine to know.  I’m afraid as a girl I got into some trouble because I always wanted to know more… too much I think. More than was mine to know. It’s helped me along the way, God knows best I suppose, but … I hurt people by not waiting for them to tell me their stories.  Some things aren’t ours … even if they are in print, they aren’t necessarily meant to be shared. I guess that’s why I felt guilty. Old guilt. Not necessarily anything I’ve done here. But yes… hearing that you did it too well, it makes me feel a slight bit better.”  She shrugged.

“How have you found your first full day?”

Tara sighed.  “I’m very tired.  Not just physically, but emotionally?  Spiritually? I tried to keep my mind on the prayers and the words… but at times I found my thoughts wandering.”  She walked over to the other woman and looked at one of the other chairs. “May I sit with you?”

“Please.”

Tara sat down.  “I’m beginning to think that I’ve come here for more than I understood.  I feel like so much is happening even if outwardly very little has occurred.  Prayers and chores and yet…” Tara searched for the right words and found herself lacking them.  “There’s more happening. It’s not just in me. I think it’s that way for all four of us. Joan maybe less than Mary and Nicarete - or maybe it’s just that I haven’t talked with her enough yet to know she’s feeling as we are.  Is that normal when girls come here? To feel… as though there is a force moving, I don’t want to say God but… as if things are changing even if you can see nothing at all?”

“The external world moves very quickly. Time carries people along, as if a river. Within our walls, we carry Time.”

Tara blinked.  It was that way.  At Bacchus’ home it had felt as if she had blinked and time had passed, carrying her from instant to instant without her even being aware of how much had blurred by her.  One moment bleeding into another until she could scarcely pick out one second from another - one pleasure from another. It was a heady and wonderful feeling but also… like being drunk.  It was nice, but so much was lost. So much she wished she could revisit now seemed as though it were all muddled together and indistinguishable.

“That’s a rather profound observation.” Tara nodded, her gaze distant. The Abbess gave a small smile as Tara continued, “So often in the last year I’ve been pulled along - rushing from this to that.  So many fires to be put out, so many balls in the air that can’t be dropped. So many people who need me to not mess up…” She sighed.

“And today was different?”

“If I’m honest?”  She hesitated. “No.  It wasn’t. Just… different.  Maybe not the same level of pressure, but I try so hard to get things right.  To help people I care about, I don’t want to let them down. Maybe one day I won’t feel that way - but I think, maybe, it’s who I am?  Worrying is, almost a family trait.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “But then again… so helping people we love.”

“I heard you speaking to Mary, earlier today. I’d come to give her support, but it seemed that my task had already been ably accomplished.”

“Mary belongs here.”  Tara said sincerely. “I don’t want to see her lose heart.  This is her dream. I just wanted her to know that her sisters want it for her as much as she does and that one bad day isn’t the end of the world.  She’s a good woman. She’ll be a lovely bride of our Father in Heaven. I know she will.” Tara smiled, her eyes distant, remembering a different girl than the one sitting with the Abbess now.  

“I see in her something of myself a few years ago when I first considered becoming a Nun.  That excitement she had in the church was all me. I remember telling my father that I thought I knew my path in life and … I was the same way she was in the church when we arrived.  But like you said, the world outside these walls pulls us along, right?” Tara looked at her feet.

“I notice you speak about your excitement for becoming a sister in the past tense. Do you still feel it, as well?”

“Not like that.  Not with a newness and childlike wonder.  I think after you’ve seen some things of the world it’s harder to be that hopeful.  I envy her that innocence and I rejoice that someone in this world still has it. It’s why I wanted to help her.  It’s like I told Nicarete, helping others is a way to help ourselves.”

“Grief has a way of leaving its mark on people. Several sisters received deep spiritual wounds before joining us… perhaps I could request a couple of them to speak to you, if you’re interested. To talk about their starting points, their journeys, and the peace they’ve found. Hearing from them could be a boon to you.”

“I don’t know what you were told about me and my life before this place…”  Tara wet her lips.

“Very little. Father Crea handles the documents for applications. I prefer to meet potential sisters without any knowledge of their former life; it is up to them if they choose to share anything.”

“I would like to talk with the Sisters about their paths in life, but I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to.  I mean, I was discussing with Sister Isabel today if it was appropriate to inquire with anyone about their past. I want to talk… I do… I just… don’t want to bring up too much pain for anyone and I’m afraid a lot of what is on my mind is all bound up in painful things.  Death. Loss. Love. Lust… Family. Children.” She shook her head and sighed.

“Can you imagine spending two decades here? Three? Five?”

“Imagine?  Oh yes. It would be bliss.  I’ve always been a simple creature.  I’ve never shied away from a hard day of work or quiet.  I love God. I love to learn. Its only in recent years that I’ve started to feel like a caterpillar must feel upon realizing it’s not what it thought it was.  And maybe that’s what scares me. What if I don’t know who I am anymore?”

“For many, it can be. But while we never press novices for details about their former lives, it’s rare to find a sister who hides her past after many years here. When I think of my childhood, of my life before, it’s almost like a story that happened to someone else. It’s that way with most. I joined this community when I was 21 years old, and in the last fifty years I’ve known women from all walks of life, who’d committed every sin before beginning their life anew here. God forgives. And many sisters use their life experience to help our younger novices and sisters; they offer up their suffering to God and as a way to help others.”

“You believe that a sister here, if she had the means to … if her story would heal the heart of another woman, that she’d do it?  She’s share her story even if it meant revisiting something … deeply troubling or sad from her own life?” Tara leaned in.

“I do. I can’t speak for every sister in every circumstance, of course, but on the whole? I do.”

Tara nodded.  The wheels behind her eyes seemed to be turning.  Grinding. The noise in her head was deafening. A thousand thoughts and possible outcomes all playing out at once.  Her fears dominating her better angels into near submission. She didn’t want to ruin Oriana’s chance to know her mother and yet she longed to tell the Abbess the truth.  Tara took a deep breath and exhaled.

Her voice was near a whisper as she said, “I want to be a good person.  I want to help people, but sometimes I think that only half of that can ever be true.  That maybe I’m a bad person, who does bad things, all hoping that I’ll help good people have better lives.  And I know how confusing that must sound to someone like you - but I know that God understands. And he has a great sense humor, I think.”  A tear ran down her cheek.

“I don’t know if I’ll be here in twenty years, Abbess, but I am here now.  I am listening. And I’m trying my best to do what I feel is right.”

The Abbess studied Ruth carefully. “The young woman I heard assisting Mary earlier is not a bad person. But it seems clear that you believe what you’re saying. When you confessed to Father Crea, did you make an authentic confession? Of all your sins, with the intention not to repeat them?”

Tara lowered her chin.  “I’ve never been a good liar.  Lying to God or Priest would be… wrong.  I carry some burdens still. I do not yet regret some of the wrongs I have done.”

“Do you believe they are wrong?”

“Logically I know I’m wrong.  I know how God feels about my sins - but we can not confess that which we not lament.  If I know I might willingly sin again, how can I sit and profess such things to a Priest and not be a hypocrite of the worst sort?  You must think terrible things about me now, but I shouldn’t want to lie to you either. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. And I feel like you might understand me in a way the others don’t.  Maybe in a way they can’t, though I can’t say for sure why. Perhaps it is your gift from Heaven, a face or continence which makes you the sort of person people can talk to. My father was that sort of man… normally I would go to him… but alas, the only father I speak with now is the one we share in Heaven.”

The Abbess was quiet for a while as she studied Ruth’s face. 

“Will you send me away now, hearing all this?”  her eyes filled with tears. “I mean, how could you want to keep a girl around who still carries a sin in her heart she can’t speak even to a priest?  I should think that would make me the least capable nun in the world if I ever made it so far...” She chuckled and wiped her tears away.

“Why do you want to be sent away?”

“I’m not like Mary.”  Tara whispered. “She deserves to be here.  I’m here answering a calling, but I don’t know that it’s the one that brought her.”

“That you have sinned… is human. Natural.” The Abbess frowned. “That you intend to sin again, without attempting to renounce it? More concerning. What sins do you speak of?”

Tara looked away from the Abbess, to the books around the room.  “I killed a man who kept young girls locked away and did terrible things to them.  I have not confessed it to a Priest. I’ve prayed about it. Thought about it. And, I know the world is rid of a monster.  I know killing is wrong, but some part of me thinks that if I were to find myself in a situation again where I was faced with such evil - that I have it in me to do it again.”  She shook her head.

“I have been with a man, outside of marriage.  He was a good man. A kind man. He took care of people and made them feel as beautiful as God made them.  He showed them the goodness inside themselves and in the world that God crafted for us to live in. In a terrible, ugly place, he created a safe haven where he did not allow hurt or pain… he wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve to die horribly either.  And yet… he did. Not an hour after I left his bed. He was dead.” She shook her head.

The Abbess continued to listen quietly, hands folded in her lap.

“I can not regret caring for him either.  I should not be proud of sharing my body with a man who was not my husband, and yet - I feel no shame.”

Tara swallowed.  “But there is more.”  She drew a breath debating on how much more to say.  How much would she trust this woman with? Had she already crossed the uncrossable line?  Did it matter at this point? She was no longer speaking to help Oriana, she’d opened up to this woman looking for something for herself.  She regretted it, but once it had started she couldn’t stop - there would have been no point. All she could do now was hope that her honesty won her trust and through that trust perhaps she would find a way to help Oriana.

“I did not lay with the man out of lust.  At least, not at first. The truth was that I did it for another person.  Another woman.” She could not look at the Abbess now. Her voice was barely a whisper.  “A woman I love. I did not lie to you in telling you the man I was with was dead. He is, but I never loved him as I love the woman.  I love woman in all the ways I should not. When I first realized I felt this way, I knew I had to go to God and ask him to fix me. I prayed constantly.  I wanted to be the woman my parents had raised me to be. To marry and give them grandchildren… but I’ve never thought like other girls. So you see, to honor them and to avoid sin, I went to my father and told him I wanted to be a Nun.  I thought if I dedicated my life to Christ and removed myself from the world at least I’d be doing something good… and I’d be away from temptations to do things bad. Only… I never got the chance to go to a nunnery when I wanted to. You see, my father and mother, they brought us out of the wilderness and back to the world and when they did … things pulled me downstream too fast, just like I knew they would.”

Tara became choked up as she spoke, “My father was a Don.  Powerful, but good. No… a thing can be simple but not easy and that is the complexity of my life.  A man who did bad things to bad people… to help the good.”

The Abbess shifted in her seat. “Ruth.” 

Tara buried her face in her hands and her whole body shuddered with a sob.

The Abbess sighed and stood, then walked over to the novice. “Stand up.”

Tara obediently stood, quickly drying her tears, fearing she’d utterly messed up everything.  Thankful she’d said nothing of Jo and Ori.

The Abbess embraced Ruth, patting the young woman on her back and bringing her to her shoulder.

Tara clung to the Abbess for a moment and then tried to compose herself again.  “I hope I have not said too much… I hope I have not ruined everything.”

The Abbess patted Tara’s back again, and gestured that she should return to her chair. Sitting across from Tara, the Abbess adjusted her spectacles.

Tara settled into the seat and folded her hands in her lap, looking meek and contrite.

“I’ve heard worse. You may not believe me, but it’s true.” The Abbess paused. “You said you murdered a man who hurt people- who hurt children. Would you ever kill or hurt a Clarian sister?”

“No!”  Tara said emphatically.

The Abbess nodded. “As for your attractions. We have no men here. We occasionally have men visit us for treatment in the medical tent, but Sister Monica tends to call out the most senior sisters depending on how pleasing she anticipates the man will be found.” The Abbess smirked.

Tara nodded.  It made sense, though it was far from a worry for her that a handsome man should come seeking treatment even if she did stay in a place like this.

“If you are attracted to any of our sisters, will you refrain from acting on these… urges? Feelings? Will you remain chaste while a member of a convent?”

Tara nodded, “I would not disrespect you or our Lord.  This is a sacred place.”

“Then what sin, precisely, do you intend to commit again? You will not kill. You will not commit adultery with men or women. This is your new life, child. Take in a deep breath- exhale the dust of your sin. Breathe in your new life. With your sins renounced, you will build your new life with us. A life of prayer and contemplation, but rich beyond measure. Join us- perhaps someday you will lead us as a senior sister. Or even an Abbess. All that is required of you is the intention to sin no more.”

Tara felt numb.  It was as simple as that, but not - she could hear her Grandfather’s voice - easy.  This place had been her plan. She’d gone the long way round and somehow God had still led her here.  She’d murdered and committed every sin possible - just about - and somehow that bloody path had come to the same place that her forest had almost lead her years ago.  It was as if she was back in the dream on the edge of the cliff. A path going right, a path going left and a long fall in front of her.  

Tara took a breath and exhaled.

“I came here looking for a woman.  The one I found wasn’t who I thought I’d find.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you, I’m not a liar.  Everything I told you is true.  I have, omitted that I came here searching for a woman who joined this order because her story could heal someone I love.”

“And you intended to leave after hearing this story?”

“Initially.  Now? I face a future that I thought I’d walked away from - a life that I thought I would not have because of the choices of others.  As I said… God has a sense of humor. In my attempt to help someone, thinking I would do no harm here, I have… found myself weeping before an Abbess thinking about what my life might yet be like.  Realizing I never really lost my way, I just… opened my eyes to a lot of other truths in the world. And, those truths made things much more complicated seeming… but in truth, it’s always been simple.  Just not easy. I came here looking for a woman to heal my friend’s heart… and I found myself working on my own.”

“Your friend is with you?”

“Of course.”  She said quietly.  

“... Joan?” asked the Abbess. 

“Is she that obvious?”  She chuckled.  

“We have applicants from all walks of life. Most are… enthusiastic, at least initially. I’ve received more reports and questions about Joan than any other novice I can recall in her first 24 hours... what healing does she require?”

“Believe it or not, she's a nurse.  A very good one. A kind-hearted woman, if … a terrible speaker of the Italian language.”  She chuckled. “She learned from the worst people… with good intentions.” Tara shook her head.  

“I came here searching for Nicoletta Leonti.  After a good long time of searching, that name finally came to me as being the mother of my friend.  My friend was one of the girls kept by that monster I told you about. She’s long believed that she was unwanted in this world, unworthy, a burden… a failure and a thousand other words I can’t even comprehend.  That monster made her think such things as no child of God should think of themselves and the one tiny hope I have for her in this moment is… that she know that her whole story does not begin and end with that man.  That like so much in the world there is complexity and beauty. That no matter her mother’s story, that her own is … precious. That God loves her and that just this once, he was very obviously involved. He has never left her.  That was always there… in the nuns who raised her,”

The Abbess’s eyes flicked up to Tara.

“...in the love of the other girls she was a prisoner with, and maybe in the love of a mother who gave her into the very best hands she could.”

“And you would like your friend to sit with the woman who was Nicoletta Leonti?”

“I think that I can’t know what she needs, maybe nothing will really heal her - nothing God hasn’t already blessed her with, but as her friend, I had to try to reunite them.  If only for a moment. If only … in a way that she would know her mother lived, that she was good and that she came from something good. That there was something worthy and beautiful that brought her into this world that hasn’t been particularly kind to her.  Sometimes… I think, just knowing a thing, it helps. Even if her mother did not want to see her, maybe just knowing is enough.”

The Abbess nodded, obviously thinking. “Bring Nicarete to meet with me tomorrow, after dinner. We will speak more of this then- all of this.”

Tara nodded, realizing then that the Abbess had put it all together.  The name, damn Ori for choosing that name. “God bless you, Abbess.” She said sincerely.

“And you, Ruth. I wish we had more time to speak, but Compline will begin in minutes, and we do not speak between Compline and the Angelus. Tomorrow, after dinner.”

Tara whispered, “Of course.  I understand. Tomorrow then.”  Tara’s chin fell once more and the weight of her fears seemed to press upon her shoulders as if they were made of cinder blocks.  Her mind warred and she could not bring herself to look at Oriana.

When it was time for the Compline, the sisters assembled in the Church, although the Abbess arrived much later than usual with one of the novices, Ruth, who took her place in the back. The novices were all yawning; they’d awoken early and worked hard. Even those who’d napped during the day seemed to be ready for bed. Three sisters read Psalms 4, 90, and 133 without antiphons, which was followed by a hymn. Oriana sang louder than she did before, perhaps due to her lesson with Sister Rose, and this time was noticed by the Abbess. They sang the versicle Kyrie eleison before receiving the benediction and dismissal from the Abbess. There was a rule of strict silence after Compline, but that didn’t seem hard to enforce on this particular night, as everyone seemed so tired.

The novices retreated to their cells, and although Tara heard several series of footsteps throughout the night, no one knocked on her door.

Exhausted, Tara fell into a dreamless sleep almost instantly.

The next day began with the bell, as the novices rose to quickly bathe, dress, and meet in the church for the Angelus and an hour of mental prayer. Tara looked around; Jo was gone. Ori’s concerned grey eyes met Tara’s for a moment during mental prayer but Tara merely looked away, ashamed. At the end of the hour, the sisters proclaimed Lauds, their morning prayer, before Father Crea arrived for morning mass and midmorning prayer. When that was finished, the sister’s headed out for the morning’s manual labor. Oriana went to Sister Catherine in the kitchen, but as she walked out the door her eyes fell on Tara, who’d lingered behind making eye contact with the Priest and then walking out of order toward him.

“Father?”  She said softly.  “I was hoping that I might speak to you about when I might next be allowed to give confession.”

“Each Saturday, Sister. But if you feel the need and the Abbess will excuse you, I think a brief exception could be made to see you now.”

Tara looked to the Abbess, who nodded at Father Crea.

Tara exhaled.  “I would like that very much, Father.”  Tara had thought about it most of the morning, and in prayer.  She was prepared to confess her greater sins, but those of her lust?  No. Instead she chose simply to keep that within. She would not, could not, view what she’d done with Oriana or Bacchus as a sin.  If that was the sin that doomed her to a lake of fire over the confessed murders she was about to admit to - well, perhaps God was not the deity she thought he was.

Father Crea led Ruth to a small room on the side of the Church. “Normally, of course, this is done in the confessional, but in your case… well, it would seem redundant. Have a seat, quiet your mind. When you are ready, make your confession.”

Tara did not expect that the Priest would anticipate such things as came from her next.  She began with Sarah’s murder and continued on from there as the priest listened in stunned silence. The man who had allowed Sarah to paralyze her father.  Then Francesco, of course. The assassin he’d sent to stop her before him. That one too. The Baron. One after another brutal murder she professed to having committed until she had nothing left to share under the flag of ‘Thou shalt not commit murder.’  

Her heart was aching.  She didn’t know she felt so bad about any of them.  She’d laughed about some in private. Felt justified, but now she could remember shaking after killing them.  Tears she didn’t like to admit had been there. She had felt guilt. How long had she sat on the basement floor of that butcher’s shop before she began to mop up brains?  She could still remember the feel of the bodies, lifeless and heavy. Heavy like the weight on her heart. She’d only dealt with it by thinking of those who had been hurt by the men and women she killed.  She thought about her father’s suffering, or Oriana’s, or sweet Crupi’s lifeless body as she wept atop him. She’d not wanted to think of her own disgust at what she’d been capable of.  

Tara Mastrosimone wanted to be a Tiger, but in truth, in many ways she was doe.  Quiet. Peaceful. More apt to want to run and ride from danger than pursue it. How had she become something else?  When had she? Tara didn’t know what day she’d changed or in what hour she’d decided that knives and guns no longer scared her… that she could kill if she had to.  Was in the woods? Some day hunting prey? Had it been in the city? Maybe the day Ori put the knife to her throat? No? Before that, surely. She couldn’t settle upon it.  Maybe it really was in her blood. Luciano.  Byrne. Mastrosimone.

The priest finally seemed to find his voice. “And you resolve to sin no more? You regret your actions, intend to atone for them, and strive to live a life without violence?”

“I do.”  She admitted.  She didn’t want to kill, but there was a difference.  She had decided this morning that knowing she could, wasn’t the same as wanting to do it.  And that was what made her a better person. That was what set her apart from the Francesco Bianchi’s of the world.  She did not want to be a monster. She didn’t long to be a king or queen of monsters - she had no desire to be Godfather or Don.  She just wanted to live her life in peace and happiness. To love and be loved. God willing.

The priest was silent for a long time. Then Tara heard the iron grate between the church and convent close and lock. “It is not for me to decide who does or does not become a Clarian sister- that is reserved for the Abbess. It is clear, however, that you have lived in a moral darkness, and at this time are not ready to commit yourself to God. First, you must atone for the deaths you have caused. Find the families of those you killed and do your utmost to serve them. While nothing will balance the scales or remove the blood from your hands outside of God’s grace, such great evil requires a great act of penance. Find the families of those you have harmed and make restitution as best you can. Commit yourself to God as you do so. Daily mass. Pray as the Clarian sisters do: at dawn, morning, midmorning, midday, midafternoon, sunset, and evening. When you have made earnest restitution to all the living you have harmed and begun to live a life of penance, you may return. I will speak with the Abbess.”

Tara’s mouth hung open ever so slightly, her eyes blank as if slapped by the Priest.  For a long moment she stared, silent, processing. Finally she nodded. “I understand.”  She said quietly, unsure of what to do or where to go now. Feeling more lost than she ever had in the whole of her life.  Had she ruined this chance for Oriana? Was damned if she could not make right what she had confessed? If she could not do this penance?  

“It would be improper for you to continue to wear those robes. If you wait a moment, I will fetch something for you to wear in the village.” The priest stood and returned later with a simple, rough frock of roughly Tara’s size and a pair of simple leather sandals. He turned toward the door. “Please leave your habit on the windowsill, and I will ensure it is returned to you.”

Tara cleared her throat, “How long do you suppose it will take me to find the family of Francesco Bianchi - this horrible man who was empowered by the Italian Government and aided by the Church?  Both of whom I’m sure will not wish me to find anyone who will remember his life?”

“I think that preemptively avoiding or excusing yourself from part of an honest atonement should wait until you have earnestly attempted the task. If you truly believe you’ve done all you can to atone, then what more could God ask of you? If you have not tried every avenue possible, why have you not?”

Tara clenched her teeth to keep from saying more and merely nodded.  She picked up the frock and went then to change out of the habit and into something suitable for traveling back into the village.  As requested, she put the habit on the windowsill before departing.  

She didn’t, however, go far.  Instead, Tara sat outside the convent.  She waited. She suspected that it would only be another twelve hours or so before Oriana had her meeting and was promptly put out.  She would be there when it happened. She owed Oriana an explanation for ruining her chances for a meeting with her mother. After that, who knew what would happen.  The only thing Tara knew for sure now was that was the last time she would ever give confession and for certain she was going to burn in hell… which meant, she was going to enjoy her time on Earth before she got there.  If she was going to burn regardless, well, she’d at least earn it.

She prayed.  This time not to an invisible man in the sky, but her real father in Heaven.  She begged Billy’s forgiveness and his understanding. She also prayed that her parents would be watching over she and her siblings.  She couldn’t be sure that God would be anymore, not while the head of the family was in such wanton disregard of the will of a Priest.  Tara would never let Oriana think, not even for a second, she regretted killing Franceso. She could not, would not, hunt for his family or try to atone with them.  There was many things she could have done, but to avoid hurting Oriana - well, she liked to think she could sell her soul. Though, judging by today’s turn of events… that wasn’t so true.  She couldn’t even keep her damn mouth shut for three days and now Ori would likely suffer for it.

Tara put her face into her hands and spent quite some time drifting between dreams, prayers, and tears.  Waiting for Oriana to eventually come stalking out of the convent… preparing for whatever well-deserved hell the woman would throw upon her.

“Tara!” 

She heard a truck, and glanced up to see a pickup truck idling in the road. Jo was sitting in the passenger seat, staring at Tara and calling to her in English.

“Tara, what- get in the truck and we’ll talk.”

“I can’t.  I have to wait for Oriana.”  She called back, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes.

“Oriana’s a big girl, Tara. Just come into the village for a bit and let me get you something to eat, something else to wear, and you can tell me what happened?”

Tell her what happened?  Yeesh. Even Jo wanted to know and she figured Jo was going to at least have been happy about being put out.  

Tara pushed herself to her feet, giving a look towards the convent and then she trudged over to the truck.  Jo leaned out the window to look at her. “Only because a Maenad should not be dressed in a damn potato sack.”  She muttered. Jo slid over, offering Tara the seat next to her, and said something to the driver about the village.

“They’ll keep her until dinner.  I’ll come back then.” She told Jo, staring at the convent even as the truck began to move.  Crossing her arms over her breasts she sighed heavily.

“Dinner… but that’s just an hour or so away, isn’t it? Or is Supper the middle one?” asked Jo.

“The later one.”  She waved a hand dismissively.

“Oh. Okay.” Jo paused. “Are you okay, hun?”

“Just pretty much confirmed I could never be the one thing I actually wanted to be in my life, sealed my fate to burning in hell, never seeing my parents again, and probably screwing Oriana out of ever knowing her mother… it’s probably not in my top ten best days ever.”  She stared out the window.

“I…” Jo turned to the driver. “Vino! Emergenza del vino!”

“Vino?” asked the driver.

Jo nodded as she reached an arm behind Tara and pulled her in for a hug. “Well I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that. I’m sorry if I blew things in there for ya. I did my best, but the Abbess came to me last night, and we had a talk about me leaving.”

“I wasn’t you…”  She sighed. “It was me.  She only came to you after I confirmed for her that you were with me.  I thought Oriana’s cover was still good but… I blew it. It’s all my fault.  If she meets her mother now it’s only by her wits and whatever mercy God might actually have to spare her and quite frankly, he’s done a shit job of that thus far so I’m not holding my breath.”

“Well, Ori’s got lots of wits first of all. And what’d God do to you in there?”

Tara shook her head.  “God didn’t do anything.”

“Well you just said he did a shit job.”

“Exactly.”  she drummed her fingers on the door of the truck.

“So. Oh. Okay. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ve already talked enough for three lifetimes.  My mouth is the fucking problem. I should shut it more often.  I apparently live under the delusion that I’m possessed of a talent I do not have.”  

“I think you have a beautiful mouth,” said Jo. “Not like that. I mean you do. But I mean, you say beautiful things. What’d you try to say that didn’t work out?”

“I tried to ask for help.”  She said in a quiet voice. “I got the only answer I could have expected from God and the church.”

“What’d you ask for help with?” asked Jo, her right arm still around her friend as the truck moved closer to the village.

Tara leaned onto Jo then.  “Just a little more time for me and a small bit of peace for Ori - but it was too much.  I asked for too much. It’s fine. I made the bed. When Ori comes out she’ll know this is typical me and just… roll with it.  Or not. Maybe she’ll leave me. I wouldn’t blame her.”

“Oh Tara. Don’t talk like that. You just need… 

“I need Ori to be happy… but I fucked it up Jo.  I fucked up so bad. I got selfish and sloppy and made it about me.  When it was never about me… it was her time.”

As the truck came to a halt, Jo reached out with her free hand toward Cirino, who handed her a bottle of red wine. Jo uncorked it with her teeth, spit the cork out, and handed Tara the bottle.

Tara took the bottle from Jo and took a drink before asking, “So, does he run a taxi service for disgraced nuns?  Does he and his friends pick up the cast offs for wild parties, consoling women after they fail to marry god?”

“He’s just a nice guy I met in the village. And I don’t know about a wild party, but we’re going to get you out of that sack and into something nicer, sit on a wall and watch the countryside, and kill that bottle of wine. And if you don’t feel better then… well then I’ll get you another,” said Jo, sighing as she squeezed Tara.

“Wine isn’t going to fix this.  I don’t know that anything can.”  She buried her face into Jo’s side.

“No… but I know a god who would recommend it.”

“Yeah.  And unlike some aforementioned Gods, he never let me down.  Alright… we drink. We drink and we laugh like Bacchus. Fuck all other Gods before him… literally.”  she laughed harder.

***

Tara wore a simple dress.  It wasn’t the sack cloth of earlier, but it was a far cry from the beautiful attire she’d worn in the halls of the House of Pleasure.  And yet, as she spun round the old barn’s dirty floor, laughing so hard she thought she might wet herself, she felt as pretty as she ever had before. She hadn’t bothered to learn the names of her hosts. One started with A, another with E. Or O. Whatever. They were fun.

Outside the rain came down in torrents.  It was a deluge of biblical proportions and had she been less drunk she might have gone on in her mind about how it fit her mood, but Tara was long gone to the world by the time the rain had begun.  Now the darkness outside only made the warmth of the music and lights within seem all consuming. She could think of nothing else but the sweet wine and how pretty Jo looked with her hair just that way.  She’d never been more beautiful than she was tonight!

Some part of her was vaguely aware that she had planned to go get Oriana, to wait for her to come out of the convent - but that voice was so quiet now.  She’d told herself it wasn’t time, but that was some time ago. She’d told herself that Jo was right, Oriana was capable of taking care of herself. She told herself that the Abbess wouldn’t put her out so in need… and on such a night.  A thousand reasons she could not go back, all meant to help her avoid the dark clouds on the horizon of her future and wrap herself in the bliss of this moment.  

A grinning young man with an open shirt grabbed Tara’s waist and gently urged her to the dance.  Tara did not refuse him, nor did she refuse when he handed her a bottle of wine to drink from. Was that the third bottle she’d helped empty? Who could remember?  She loved to dance. She was almost as good at it as Brigitte, who was never quite as good as Aurora but close. Tara was graceful by anyone’s measure though, even drunk and so she’d show this young man a good time.  She’d make him work for her smiles and laughs. If he thought to steal a kiss, well, she’d make him dance until he fell down.

When finally the room was dancing without her, Tara stumbled over to a pile of hay, followed by the young man.  She shoo’d him off though, asserting she might be ill or something similar. She wouldn’t remember anything tomorrow anyway.  “Go get your kisses from my friend.” She’d tried to say, but she wasn’t sure that it came out just as she meant it. Her Italian was sloppy when she was drunk.

Tara stretched out on the hay and listened to the pipe and timbrels. At some point, carried away by the music and  the wine, she drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, the world was darker- and spinning. She blinked, trying to get her bearings; she’d passed out in the corner of the barn.  Taking a deep breath, she slowly sat up in the hay and recognized familiar sounds that placed her immediately in Naples.

Fifteen feet away, Tara could see Jo as the woman rewarded the young man from earlier with more than a kiss. The moonlight illuminated the redhead’s body, and she didn’t seem to notice Tara, who was hidden in the dark corner of the barn. At least, that was Tara’s assumption until she saw Jo wink in her direction before arching her back and letting her red hair hang down behind her.

Tara’s breath was held as she watched, enrapt, and still a bit tipsy feeling.  Jo was a beautiful woman, one that Tara had thought about from time to time since meeting her, since seeing her and Ren, and now seeing her like this - she could not look away and after everything today, she could not find an ouce of shame within herself for greedily drinking in the sight.  She’d fucked everything up, one more thing, what did it matter? One moment of pleasure… why not? Jo clearly didn’t care. Why should she? Adultery? Well, she was already guilty of that, right? In for penny, in for a pound.  

Tara felt around in the dark, trying to find the bottle she last had. Her fingers alighted on it almost immediately.  Eyes still on Jo, she lifted the bottle up to her lips, hoping for some left behind to nurse upon, and Bacchus rewarded her wish.

She gulped down the sweet wine and wiped the excess from her lips with the back of her hand only to lick it up like a cat bathing, wasting not a drop as Jo leaned forward, clutching onto the young man’s shoulders and beginning to move her hips faster.

Tara smiled at Jo, encouraging her with her eyes.  Silent. She imagined Oriana for a moment, and what she might do in this moment and smile spread across Tara’s lips.  Again she drank from her bottle, feeling the heat rise within her, unsure if it was because of the wine or lust or both.  All she knew now was that she didn’t want it to stop. This was simple. This was easy. Why couldn’t this be her whole life?  Why did she have to leave The House of Pleasure… oh yes. Now she remembered.  

Tara drank again.  There was no Heaven.  Not earth at least and now she’d never see it after she died.  This, moments like this in a barn with friends like Jo, it was as good as anyone could hope for and so Tara dared not blink lest she miss an instant of it.  Her breath quickened and she longed for Oriana as she had not longed for her in some time and silently her hand drifted between her thighs - never looking away from Jo until the moment that Ori’s name escaped Tara’s lips.  Then she fell back into the hay with closed eyes, her bottle forgotten and fantasies took over.

*

“Now that,” said Bacchus. “Was a party. It could have been better, of course. The truest disciple of mine would have joined Josephine.” His tone was admonishing, but his smile was genuine as Tara blinked.

“Bacchus?”  She said sadly, shocked to hear his voice again.  “I…” She let go of herself and sat up to look at him better, squinting wondering just how drunk she really was.  “I know I drank a lot but… I saw you. You can’t be here. You’re… you’re dead.”

“I’m a god, First Student. I’m everywhere. Currently I’m the young man holding Jo in his arms- and more than a few others at this party.”

“You shall have no other Gods before me… I always thought that was an admission that there were other Gods.  An odd thing to say if there wasn’t.”

“No theology, Tara. I’m assuming your subconscious summoned me for a reason?” Bacchus drew up to his full height, removing his vest and standing in his shorts as he walked toward her where she sat on the hay.

“For a man, you are easy on the eyes.  I think it’s your eyes. I always saw your kindness.  I wish I had known you when you were very young. I think you would have been an amazing young man, Lord knows you were the best teacher.”  She smiled at him. “I’ve missed you. I wish you were still in Naples. I wish everything could go back to the way it was. I didn’t want to leave, you know that right?”

“I’m right here. Even better than Naples, no?”

She nodded and then crawled over to him.  “Will you let me sit in your lap again while we talk, like we did that night?”

“But of course. As a subconscious dream figment, I live to serve.”

“I’m dreaming then?  Of course, you said that already didn’t you?  Oh no, you can’t serve. You’re a God, right?”  she chuckled as he pulled her onto his lap. “Gods take what they want, be damned the rest of the world and it’s fucking problems.”

“Is that what you’d like me to do? Or did you want to talk?”

Tara turned in Bacchus’ lap and kissed him, wrapping her legs about his waist and locking her ankles.  “You taste real.” She said between kisses.  

“I’m more real now than I ever was before. I was always Bacchus. Now… well… what do you want, Tara?” He snapped his fingers and the woman in white who’d been swimming in the river appeared over one of Tara’s shoulders and kissed her neck.

He snapped again and Jo appeared over Tara’s other shoulder, looking just as she had in the barn.

Tara exhaled, adjusting on Bacchus’ lap.  She smiled like a cat with a mouse under its paw.  “You know me so well, and yet… we both know there is really only one thing I crave.  One person. Why isn’t it Oriana you show me? Is it because I know how mad she is at me right now?  Is it because I didn’t wait for her?”

Bacchus frowned. “You’re not really thinking about her right now, are you?”

“I love her.”  Tara insisted. “And I know that matters to you, more than you let anyone in that den of debauchery know.  I know that’s why you wanted to be with us. It wasn’t the sex. It was what we felt.”

“You’re right, of course.” He paused. “But also the sex.”

Tara laughed and rolled her hips across his lap, pointedly, “Yes, I do remember you enjoying that a great deal.  I’ll miss you in that regard as well. Not as much as Oriana, but I will miss it.”

“You want Oriana, then?” He snapped his fingers on both hands before Tara could answer, and Tara felt a familiar touch on her- on both sides, as she was flanked by one brunette and one blonde Oriana.

“Oh… shit.”  she said laughing nervously.  “I guess… if you’re a god, that’s a thing you can do.”  She kissed Bacchus then in gratitude as much as anything else and then turned from him to dive into this new distraction.  Anything would have helped her to not think about her emotional state, but two of Oriana? Well, that was just too much to ask her to ignore.  

Bacchus lay back, snapping again. A third and fourth Oriana appeared, surrounding Tara.

“You know,” said Bacchus as Tara threw herself at the four Orianas. “I think… I was supposed to have some sort of moral message for you. But I forget what it is.” Instead, he sat back and watched.

*

As the first grey lights of dawn broke in the Tuscan countryside, Jo crept over to where Tara was sleeping in the hay. Tara had her dress hiked up to her thigh as she lay, spread out, on the hay. She was twitching, to the extent that Jo nearly woke her up- at least until Tara moaned in her sleep. Using her finger to wipe the drool off Tara’s cheek, Jo decided it would be best to let her friend sleep it off.

*

Every nerve on Tara’s body felt like it had exploded; her hair was standing up in all directions as she panted to catch her breath. She looked around for Bacchus and the four Orianas and found… the forest. Newfoundland. The sack-dress was on the ground in front of her.

“What the…”  She grabbed the sack dress, abruptly trying to cover herself for fear her siblings or parents might appear out of nowhere.  The chill of the northern air began to settle into her bones and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep it at bay, trying to determine where she was and how to get back to the cabin.

Looking south, she saw a thin line of smoke in the sky.  Having no better ideas, she began walking towards the plume hoping it was home but knowing it might just be warmth at the very least.

After walking through the woods, she walked into a grove of olive trees and found Gavin Byrne sitting on a log near a campfire.

Tara stopped and stared at him for a moment, trying to process what she was seeing and make sense of it.  What had she been doing earlier? Oriana. Bacchus. The barn in Tuscany. How had she gotten here?

“Just for the record,” said Gavin, “the sex part of the dream is over. You’re a wild one, but I know you draw the line somewhere. I hope.”

“Grandpa… what are you doing here?” She looked around trying to put together why he of all people had appeared in this place.  

Gavin looked up, as if he was listening to a voice from the sky.

“If you asked the woman you were named for, she’d tell you that I’m a subconscious projection of the non-deity dependent personality aspect. If you ask me, I’m just kind of… hanging out, I guess. For someone I’ve never met, you sure hallucinate me a lot. Why is that?”

“When I was little,”  She said coming over to sit near to Gavin.  “I used to think I would marry a guy like you.  Mom talked about you all the time. Of course, back then I didn’t really know what I wanted.  I mean, I knew what Dad told me I’d do one day. That was the only truth. And the best of men, according to Mom and Dad was you.  Maybe that’s it… or maybe it’s because of the way Nona Bella writes about you. Maybe I see you as one of the best people I know about.  Or could be that … I see me and Ori as being rather like you and Nona Bella and Ori’s on my mind a lot lately and wanting to help her is on my mind a lot lately.  And … being that Ori is as mixed up in the head as Nona Bella when you met her, I think you’re the only one who can help me figure out how to make it right?”

“New rule. Twelve words or less every time I ask you a question. What’s the problem?” asked Gavin.

Tara blushed and held up her hands.  

“I … blew … our…”  She numbered each word on a finger. 

Gavin tensed.

“... cover…”

“Phew.”

“... and…” She barely contained her laugh.  “Ruined… Ori’s… chance...to meet her mom.” She threw the last out as if it were one word.

“Do you know for sure you ruined it?”

She shrugged. 

“Well then you didn’t ruin it.”

She exhaled.  

“A priest gave me an atonement I can’t do.  I won’t.” She shook her head.  

“So what?”

She rolled her eyes, “This is that non-deity part…”

“Do you think this priest is right?”

“If Francesco had left behind a wife and innocent little kids, sure, b-”

“That was a yes or no, by the way.”

She sighed.  “Of course he’s right.  God’s laws are clear. It’s straight forward.  I-”

“12 words, squirt. Keep up. God’s laws are clear, but you weren’t just talking to God. Why not find a better priest? I knew a good one in Vegas, though I’m pretty sure he’s been dead for… quarter-century or so.”

“I don’t think you … I mean… it’s not like shopping for a-”

“Why not? Everybody’s just making the rules up as they go. Why shouldn’t you?”

“Well… I…”  She snapped her jaw shut before she wasted words.  “Typically, one doesn’t confess to one Priest and if they don’t like the pennace go find another.”

“Typically, one doesn’t confess an assload of murders and expect to like the answer, right?” asked Gavin.

“I was trying to unburden my soul.”  She shook her head. “He was supposed to want-

“He does want to help you. But it’s not his job to make your life easy. He’s not going to wave his hand and let you waltz into a nun-house.”

She shook her head,  “And why not?!? Why shouldn’t he let me go into service?  

“Because you’re running away from your problems. If you really wanted to atone, you’d be out atoning right now instead of staring at your friend’s knockers. You don’t need to be a nun, Tara.”

Tara scowled.  

“I know that.”  she said softening.  “But for a minute it was nice to think I had a choice.”

Gavin reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with a pair of icy blue eyes.

“You do have a choice. You always have a choice. You just want to be good. You don’t need to be a nun to be good- to do good.”

“His penance … this mercy of his… it felt like a door slamming in my face when for a moment, i thought...”

“You’d have your cake and eat it too?”

“You did.”  She said flatly looking at his eyes unflinching.  “So did Mom and Dad. They paid dues but they got what they wanted.  Do you really see that happening for me?”

“They made compromises. I made compromises. Your grandmother made compromises. They didn’t just… fuck around and get everything they wanted. I gave up my life for my kids, backed away from the business when I could have been a Don- or even a Godfather. Instead I was changing diapers while Bella worked late. Your Grandmother always wished she could have a little bit more of what I did, instead of drowning in work. And your mother? She wanted to be a Godmother. She thought she was born to be a Godmother. Instead, she chose to be a mother- didn’t even run her own crew, because she stepped back to let Eg- Billy be the boss. You know, your father might have compromised the least… but even him, at the end…” Gavin frowned. “Nobody get’s everything they want. You get to pick one thing. Maybe two, if you’re lucky. If you want to be a nun, you can be a nun, Tara. No one’s stopping  you. It’ll break Oriana, but she’ll put herself back together. The family’ll find a way to make things work. If that’s what you need… then do it.”

Gavin leaned forward conspiratorially.

“Personally I think you’d lose your fucking mind after a couple months, but that’s just me.”

Tara’s lip twitched, almost smiling.

“You can be a good person and still be Tara Mastrosimone. Don’t listen to priests. Don’t listen to anyone. Listen to yourself, how you felt when you helped Mary. Or when Ori cries on your shoulder. Or when you send money to Gav and know you’re taking care of them. Goodness isn’t something you get from the outside, squirt. It’s something you know, and you can only get it by doing what you think is right.” 

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up.”  She said hoarsely.  

“Nah, you didn’t. But you really did,” he laughed. “It’ll be fine, though. That girl of yours can handle herself.”

“You like her, too.  I knew you would. She’s good stuff.”

Gavin looked up at the sky.

“Yeah. You can’t have everything, squirt. And you can’t have anything as long as you want to. But if you’re lucky, you get something…”

Gavin leaned over and poked Tara’s shoulder.

“Hey, remember that stuff I said about goodness.”

He poked her shoulder again.

“And tell Brigitte and Gav I say hi.”

He poked her again- hard.