Chapter 104

Anxious as she was to delve into the contents of the little book, she placed it on the bedside table.  It had gone unread all these years, so it would keep long enough to ensure Sister Mary Clementine got safely back to her room.

After escorting the Sister through the winding hallways of the cloister, she wove the same path back to her own room, head spinning.  The lock clicked in place, and she spun around, hurrying to reassure herself that the journal was right where she’d left it on the table. 

Never taking her eyes from it, she removed her robe and resumed her position under the light blankets of the twin bed.  Squirming into a comfortable upright position, Allegra folded the blanket and sheet at her waist, resting her back against the little wooden headboard before reaching for the book again.

Her mother’s journal.  Frannie’s journal.

Allegra turned it over, inspecting the age-worn cover for any distinctive markings, yet unable to locate anything.  It appeared to be a garden-variety dime store journal like a million others from that time, she was sure.

The exterior offered no clues as to the contents, yet she continued to scrutinize every minute detail, rather than just opening it to reveal the information hidden inside.  As much as she wanted to, the uncertainty ate at her.  

Reading the journal’s contents felt like invading the privacy of a woman she’d never known.   Plus, the desire to know what was lurking within its covers felt like a betrayal to her mother – Therese.  The woman who had invested her entire life into Allegra. 

She placed it reluctantly on the nightstand, and was reaching for the lamp switch when another thought struck.

So had Frannie.  She’d GIVEN her life for Allegra.

Was it so wrong to want to know what was in here?   It may be the only opportunity she would get to learn just a little bit about the woman who had given birth to her.  The curiosity would still be alive even if Frannie wasn’t her birth mother.  She would want to know something about the aunt that everyone loved, yet she hadn’t had the opportunity to meet.

Wouldn’t she?

Snatching the journal back up, Allegra knew she would.  She’d want to know what was in this even if this was Uncle John’s, and he had always been a part of her life.

And who knew?  It may be nothing more than an address book, if there was anything at all in it.

Decision made, she carefully turned back the cover and smoothed her hand over the first page, finding that there was indeed something in it.

Francis Sophia

Bongiovi

Allegra traced her fingers over the neat script, automatically searching for any similarities to her own handwriting. 

The way the F swooped at the top maybe? 

From nowhere, she realized that the ‘S’ reminded her of Richie’s signature.

Not now.

Fanning the pages gently, she saw that there were several entries, but that the journal was by no means full.  Looking at the dates, she saw that it ended shortly before she was born.  It was tempting to read that entry first, but…

I guess the best place to start is the beginning.

Drawing a determined breath, she delicately folded back the first page, in an effort not to tear the paper that had been unexposed for almost four decades.  

May 31, 1970

I’ve never had the need for something as girlish as a diary before, and I feel silly, but what else am I going to do?  There’s no one for me to talk to about this, and it’s eating me up inside.  There’s no way I can tell anyone here, or Therese. 

Sweet Mother Mary, Therese would just die!  She can’t ever find out, or she’ll be so disappointed.  And give me that LOOK!  The one that says I broke her heart, but what else did she expect?  You’d think she was way more than a couple years older than me.  She treats me like a daughter instead of a sister sometimes.

Ooops.  I got sidetracked.  What I was going to say before I busted wide open was…

I lost my virginity tonight!

Two months after I take my solemn vows of chastity, poverty and all that before God, I’ve given myself to a man.  A man that helped officiate the vows.

I’m going to Hell.  Pretty sure there’s no way around that now.  Not without 62,837 Hail Marys and 700 acts of contrition.  But sex was so good that I don’t think I’ll mind. 

Joey was so considerate and tender, even though he didn’t know any more than I did.   It was absolutely awkward, but the laughing, kissing and gentleness made it the sweetest experience I’ve ever had.

I think I love him.

Is that even possible? 

But he has to feel something for me, too.  He has to.  Why else would he break his vows as surely as I’ve broken mine?

He told me I was beautiful.  Beautiful!  Me!  Plain little Frannie Bongiovi that never had a boyfriend.  (I still wonder how much John had to do with that).  Joey said my eyes were the clearest blue he’d ever seen, full of sunshine and kind-heartedness.

I acted  like a fool, stuttering around after that.  I think I finally said something stupid like “Your eyes are the gray of a summer storm cloud.”  Oh good grief.  I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.

But he kissed me and everything else stopped mattering. 

What will we do?  He didn’t say much afterward.  Just kissed me on the forehead and said he’d see me soon.  I have to wonder what’s going to happen next though.  Will we leave the Church so that we can keep seeing each other?  We can’t do this again and not expect God to strike us dead, or something equally horrible.  Right?

I’m so confused…

Allegra couldn’t help but laugh a little. The questions Frannie asked reminded her of the way she talked to herself sometimes. It was reassuring to find that she wasn’t the only one who fell victim to self-interrogation.

That kind of thing couldn’t be hereditary, could it?

Eager to see what other things she and Frannie may have in common, Allegra turned the page for the next entry.

June 2, 1970

It’s been two days and he’s avoiding me.  AVOIDING ME!  We make a huge step like giving each other our virginity and he AVOIDS me?  Doesn’t he know girls are clingy and needy?  I don’t care that those things don’t apply to me.  After something that monumental I need some guarantee that I haven’t screwed my whole life up for no reason.

That’s only fair!

If he doesn’t speak to me tomorrow, then I’m going to hunt him down and corner him.   He can’t do me this way.  I won’t stand for it.

June 3, 1970

I’m such a sissy.  Talking a big game is easy when there’s no one but a piece of paper to confront, but when it comes down to it, I chickened out.  I can’t exactly corner him in the sanctuary of the church, stomping my foot and demanding things – even if it’s just good manners – in exchange for my sexual favors.  That would make me a Jezebel, wouldn’t it?  Leave your money on the bedside table…

Is that what I am?

June 4, 1970

He’s left.  LEFT!  Not permanently, I don’t think.  Sister Mary Clementine said he’d gone away for a few days.

How foolish could I be thinking he cared for me?  Priest or not, he was just interested in one thing I guess.  Just because we’ve spent hours upon hours talking to each other about our past, present and futures I thought we meant something to one another.  

He knows things about me that NO ONE knows.  It may not mean anything to him, but I’ve never told ANYONE that I became a nun because it was the only way to compete with John and Therese.  And that it got me away from home.

Funny.  Now that I think about it, he didn’t really share anything, he just listened to me. 

Oh Sweet Jesus.  I’m a gullible fool.  I’m going to confession and try to wear out my rosary today.

June   7, 1970

He’s back.  I saw him from across the garden as he entered the building through the back door.  I don’t think he saw me, but even if he did I wouldn’t know.  I pretended to be engrossed in the clematis.

Yeah, I’m a mature adult.

June 8, 1970

He asked to see me tomorrow. 

I was going through the dining hall with my dinner, just about to pass his table.  My head was held high and I wasn’t going to even glance in his direction, but he reached his hand out to touch my arm.  And it sent sparks down my spine, darn it!

He spoke softly so no one could overhear when he asked me to meet him in the garden early tomorrow morning. 

Is this going to be the explanation I need, or will he try and have sex with me again? 

God help me, I don’t know which I want it to be!

June 9, 1970

Joey and I spent hours in the garden this morning.  It was really awkward at first.  He was embarrassed, and I was hurt and neither of us said anything.  We just stared at each other for a long time, until he softly apologized.  I know it’s easy to say the words, but the regret in his eyes or the sincerity in his voice couldn’t be faked.  I have to believe it was real, especially when he told me why he left.

I guess he was sort of a wild child in his teens, giving his mom and dad all sorts of grief.  He said he was always getting into fights at school, committing vandalism and even a little bit of shoplifting.   Then it got worse.  I don’t even want to think about it, much less write it.  But because of what happened, he made a vow that he would be a better person.  That’s how he ended up in the priesthood.  He can’t break that vow now, even if he has lived the life of a saint since it happened. 

Until he met me at least.  Funny that with all the trouble he seemed to find, none of it involved girls.  He said he’d never found anyone to capture his interest and didn’t want to fall into this trap now, but that there was something about me he couldn’t stay away from.  He also said that I’m the only thing that’s ever made him question his decision and if he were free to leave the priesthood, it would be for me.

That made me feel better.  But it also made me want to hold him close and kiss him.  I think he knew that and felt the same way.

Even knowing that there will be nothing more than what there is I can’t stop thinking about him.  I want whatever he’s willing or able to give me.  Is that wrong?  To be so desperate that you’d sell yourself short? 

Stupid question, since I don’t care about the answer.

Allegra let the little book fall to rest in her lap, keeping a finger wedged in it to save her place. 

Poor Frannie.  Waiting all that time to find the man of her dreams, yet she couldn’t have him.  What could have happened in Joey’s life to push him so unwaveringly toward the Church?  Something that was too horrible to even write about? 

The only thing she could think of was murder, but that meant he would be in jail, not the priesthood.  Wouldn’t he?