Longing Makes the Heart Feel Empty…

T he night had always held such magic before.

Rhona longed to folic beneath the stars but by each day's end, she fell into an exhausted slumber. In keeping with the decree of Father Issac, she had to produce something of value or suffer starvation.

She'd never realized how long a week could last.

The weather didn't offer her any cheer either. Dark clouds crowded the sky, peppering the little shed with cold rain. Beyond the threshold of her shelter was a sea of mud that swallowed up the summer meadow, transforming it into a bog.

A second week crawled by, and Rhona found herself looking toward the house with a hunger she feared would transform into a longing. Being alone suited her not at all.

Does taking the veil suit you?

Her inner voice wanted to help her persevere, but the truth was, she was bending. It wasn't the endless work that made her think of kneeling before Father Issac; it was the solitude.

"I did not want to be a nun either."

Rhona looked up from carding wool. The Mother Superior was standing in the doorway of the little shed. She smiled warmly at Rhona.

"You think it a harsh life," Mother Superior continued. She withdrew a bundle from beneath her tabard. "Yet there are others which offer fewer comforts or dignity."

She placed a bundle on the window ledge.

"Come back to the house, Child. I do not wish to know our newfound comfort comes from your suffering."

Rhona tightened her grip on the handles of the carding paddles. Mother Superior was watching her.

"Is there a man in your heart?" Mother asked. "If so…where is he?"

Rhona longed to know where Peadair was as well.

She'd tested him. Was that the reason for his absence?

He owed her nothing.

"So that is what stands between you and taking vows." Mother Superior read the expression on Rhona's face correctly. She tucked her hands back beneath her tabard while she contemplated Rhona. "I will see you next week, Child, if you do not come to me first."

The nun was gone as silently as she had appeared. It wasn't until Rhona noticed the sound of the rain hitting the thatch on the roof that she realized how solitary her life was now.

But she still didn't want to take vows she wasn't sincere in taking.

You won't be the first to make do with what you can get…

Her inner voice was correct, but it frustrated her. So she began to pull the paddles again to straighten out the fibers of wool. Swish-swish. Back and forth. Simple, repetitive work. She didn't loathe it, but she wasn't ready to give up on there being some moments of excitement in her life as well.

Like Peadair's kiss.

Two weeks really wasn't all that long.

Not when she was thinking about doing something that would last for the rest of her life.