It also summoned Arjun and Jeremy’s faces, closing before her like twin doors on iron hinges. Shutting her out of a place she shouldn’t want to go—and yet, something in her raced forward, crying for entrance.

Or just crying. That too.

Madeleine, who hadn’t allowed herself the release of tears in a long time, lowered her face into her hands and let them come. Her chest heaved and ached as she sobbed. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. Lord, take this bitter cup away from me.

Christ had said that before his crucifixion, begging God to spare him from an excruciating death. God had declined to do so. Nobody was immune to suffering. Certainly not Madeleine, who was already acquainted with it and—apparently—about to become more so.

She’d lost her parents and brother…she’d left her Sisters…and now this new, awful truth—something was wrong, horribly wrong, with her. Something that had been eating away at her soul, maggot-like, for decades. How much did you have to endure before God decided it was enough? And what on earth was she supposed to do, now that she couldn’t look away anymore?

Keep looking.

Madeleine shuddered at the return of the unwelcome voice. It did love to say things she wasn’t ready to hear. But every time, it was what she needed to hear. Was it the voice of God? Her own conscience? Something else? Would she ever know?

She sat up and wiped her tears away. Her breath was painful in her chest. Blowing her nose helped to relieve the pressure in her sinuses. Crying might be a release, but the aftermath was messy and inconvenient, like all the rest of this.

Okay, she told herself as she tossed the tissue toward the trash can. It bounced off the edge and landed on the worn carpet. Okay. You’re homosexual. Now you know.

(She had always known.)

Now you know, and you can deal with it. You can live with it. You can live through it like you’ve lived through everything else. It’s just another cross to bear. Pick it up and carry it.

Practically speaking, nothing had to change. Madeleine had never acted on her urges with women, and she wasn’t going to start. She’d just keep living her life as she always had. She could begin by getting ready for bed as she always did. At the very least, she’d start life as a homosexual woman with clean teeth.

The thought chased a hiccupping laugh out of her, which was something, at least. She could still laugh at silly things. She could still hate flossing and make herself do it anyway.

She could still pray.