her a chance when no one else would, and for a few moments had made her believe in the impossible. In herself. Even if she never made it onto the stage again, she owed him for his kindness.
“You’ve been real good to me, Mr. Markham,” she told the crown of his hat. “I thank you for that. And for letting me audition.”
Without looking up, he shrugged. “It was my job. Nothing more.”
“Of course it was.”
South of San Francisco
“GONE? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE?”
Jack Wilkins glared at the ancient nun guarding the gate of the Catholic Abbey perched like a boil on a hilltop above the shimmering Pacific. He was tired, his foot hurt, his stomach still hadn’t found its land legs, and after months at sea the last thing he wanted to hear was that he’d come back too late. “Gone where?”
The nun blinked up at him like a startled bird. “New Mexico Territory.”
He almost fell off his crutch. “New Mexico?” Had she given up this crazy nun-thing? Was she back at the ranch, waiting for him to come home? “She’s not a nun anymore?” he asked, daring to hope.
“Novitiate,” the old woman corrected. “Sister Maria Elena hasn’t yet taken her final vows.”
If she hadn’t taken final vows, he still had a chance. “What’s she doing in New Mexico?”
“She has gone to say good-bye to her temporal family before beginning her ministry in ... hmm, now where was it?” She frowned, tapping a gnarly forefinger against her wrinkled cheek as if to roust a memory loose. “It’s an island, I believe. Yes!” She showed toothless gums in a pink smile. “An island in the Kingdom of Hawaii.”
Hope faded. Jack had been to the islands of Hawaii. In his desperation to put meaning back into his life after Elena had deserted him for the convent, he had spent months—years—traveling all over the South Pacific, from Samoa to Tahiti to New Zealand and Australia and back again. He knew of only one reason a nun would travel such a distance to take a ministry.
“The Island of Molokai?” he asked, his voice so strained he could hardly get the words out.
“That’s it! Yes, Molokai. There’s a small town ... on the coast, I think.”
The muscles in his chest clenched. “Kalawao?” Please, not Kalawao .
“Yes! The settlement of Kalawao.” The nun crossed herself. “May God bless her.”
For a moment Jack couldn’t catch his breath. He felt shaky and light-headed. Not his beautiful Elena in Kalawao. It was obscene. Unacceptable. Wrong.
Perhaps sensing his turmoil, the little nun reached through the ironwork of the closed gate to touch his shoulder. “Are you all right, my son?”
Jack stared bleakly at her, silently willing her to say she was mistaken, that she had the wrong nun, the wrong settlement, on the wrong island.
But her face remained serene and her faded eyes showed nothing but pity.
It made him want to yell at her, hit something, bellow his rage at God for this new insult. “How long?” he ground out.
The old woman patted his shoulder and smiled. “Why, forever, my son.”
“No, before she leaves! How long before she leaves?”
He must have shouted it. With a skittish look, the nun snatched her hand back and scuttled out of reach. Eyeing him from a safe distance, she spoke so quickly all the words ran together. “May, but she must prepare for her vows, so she will return in mid-April.”
A month. He had a month to convince her.
Resolved, Jack turned, his crutch banging on the stone steps as he limped to his horse.
“Go with God, my son,” the old nun called.
Not likely , Jack thought. He and God had parted company three years ago. Now they were bitter enemies. And Jack would fight Him, the Devil, and all the hounds of hell before he’d let Elena live the rest of her life in a leper colony.
Four
INTENT ON GETTING TO THE RANCH AND ELENA AS FAST as he could, Jack arranged with his ship’s captain to have his trunk sent to the ranch as soon as the harbor agent
“You’ve been real good to me, Mr. Markham,” she told the crown of his hat. “I thank you for that. And for letting me audition.”
Without looking up, he shrugged. “It was my job. Nothing more.”
“Of course it was.”
South of San Francisco
“GONE? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE?”
Jack Wilkins glared at the ancient nun guarding the gate of the Catholic Abbey perched like a boil on a hilltop above the shimmering Pacific. He was tired, his foot hurt, his stomach still hadn’t found its land legs, and after months at sea the last thing he wanted to hear was that he’d come back too late. “Gone where?”
The nun blinked up at him like a startled bird. “New Mexico Territory.”
He almost fell off his crutch. “New Mexico?” Had she given up this crazy nun-thing? Was she back at the ranch, waiting for him to come home? “She’s not a nun anymore?” he asked, daring to hope.
“Novitiate,” the old woman corrected. “Sister Maria Elena hasn’t yet taken her final vows.”
If she hadn’t taken final vows, he still had a chance. “What’s she doing in New Mexico?”
“She has gone to say good-bye to her temporal family before beginning her ministry in ... hmm, now where was it?” She frowned, tapping a gnarly forefinger against her wrinkled cheek as if to roust a memory loose. “It’s an island, I believe. Yes!” She showed toothless gums in a pink smile. “An island in the Kingdom of Hawaii.”
Hope faded. Jack had been to the islands of Hawaii. In his desperation to put meaning back into his life after Elena had deserted him for the convent, he had spent months—years—traveling all over the South Pacific, from Samoa to Tahiti to New Zealand and Australia and back again. He knew of only one reason a nun would travel such a distance to take a ministry.
“The Island of Molokai?” he asked, his voice so strained he could hardly get the words out.
“That’s it! Yes, Molokai. There’s a small town ... on the coast, I think.”
The muscles in his chest clenched. “Kalawao?” Please, not Kalawao .
“Yes! The settlement of Kalawao.” The nun crossed herself. “May God bless her.”
For a moment Jack couldn’t catch his breath. He felt shaky and light-headed. Not his beautiful Elena in Kalawao. It was obscene. Unacceptable. Wrong.
Perhaps sensing his turmoil, the little nun reached through the ironwork of the closed gate to touch his shoulder. “Are you all right, my son?”
Jack stared bleakly at her, silently willing her to say she was mistaken, that she had the wrong nun, the wrong settlement, on the wrong island.
But her face remained serene and her faded eyes showed nothing but pity.
It made him want to yell at her, hit something, bellow his rage at God for this new insult. “How long?” he ground out.
The old woman patted his shoulder and smiled. “Why, forever, my son.”
“No, before she leaves! How long before she leaves?”
He must have shouted it. With a skittish look, the nun snatched her hand back and scuttled out of reach. Eyeing him from a safe distance, she spoke so quickly all the words ran together. “May, but she must prepare for her vows, so she will return in mid-April.”
A month. He had a month to convince her.
Resolved, Jack turned, his crutch banging on the stone steps as he limped to his horse.
“Go with God, my son,” the old nun called.
Not likely , Jack thought. He and God had parted company three years ago. Now they were bitter enemies. And Jack would fight Him, the Devil, and all the hounds of hell before he’d let Elena live the rest of her life in a leper colony.
Four
INTENT ON GETTING TO THE RANCH AND ELENA AS FAST as he could, Jack arranged with his ship’s captain to have his trunk sent to the ranch as soon as the harbor agent
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