One Hundred Five

Surely Joey wasn’t a murderer.   In all likelihood, she would never find out the real reason, so she had to come up with a better alternative than that for her father’s commitment to the Church. 

Shivering, she decided that murder was definitely out. 

What else could cause such a life-altering decision?

Pregnancy could, she thought with a wry twist of her lips, but Frannie said there’d been no girls.

Drugs, maybe?  The late sixties were renowned for the use of marijuana and hallucinogenic drugs.  But would Frannie consider that so very horrible?

No obvious answer was coming to mind, so she decided to accept the journal entry at face value, and hope that there was further mention in the remaining pages.

Opening the book back up, she resumed reading.

June 22, 1970

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, pretending nothing’s changed.  I guess technically it hasn’t, but I feel like I’m living a new life. 

My eyes search for him first thing when I enter a room, and I can’t keep from smiling inside when I see him.  He tries to be composed and professional, but I can see him fighting the smile too. 

It’s not even that we do that much.  We spend a lot of time in the garden, talking.  Holding hands if we think no one is looking.  Late at night, I’ll slip down from my room to the furthest, darkest corner of the garden – under the big willow tree that has the soft bed of grass surrounding it.  Some nights he’ll be there waiting for me, other nights he’s able to resist the temptation.  I’m never able to let the chance pass.  Just to touch him and kiss him and pretend that we’re just like any other couple stealing away to be alone.

So far, we’ve only had sex one time after the first.  In the very same spot that we both lost our virginity.  He didn’t want to, but I was a complete hussy until he had no choice. 

That willow tree holds a special place in my heart…

July 15, 1970

I’m a total wreck.  I just found out he’s leaving next week.  For good.  He’s been reassigned to another parish. 

I know I said I would take whatever I could get, but this is killing me.  What will I do without him here?  Sharing our secret has made all my days brighter, and I’m afraid they’re going to be very, very empty once he’s gone.

We have to make one more visit to the willow tree before he leaves.  HAVE TO.  If I have to give him up, I need one more memory to hold onto.

July 23, 1970

I’m an empty shell now.  He left yesterday and took my heart with him, giving me the same impersonal goodbye as the rest of the Sisters.  He never even looked back. 

It hurts, even though I understand why. No matter how painful it will be in the beginning, we decided it was best to completely cut ties.   Even though he did tell me which parish he’d been assigned.  I like to think it was his way of leaving the door open for me to write if I wanted to.

Right now, I’m trying to convince myself that I’m a strong woman, and will thrive now, just like I always have.  I lived 23 years without him.  It may not be all sunshine and roses, but I’ll live at least that many more now that he’s gone.

At least I got my one last memory under the willow.  He didn’t want to hear it, but I told him that I loved him.  It was the only way I could let him go.

Allegra wiped the tear that leaked from the corner of her eye.  Letting go of the man you loved was something that she understood all too well. 

August 7, 1970

I’m pregnant.  Pregnant!  The baby is due the first week of March.  Dear Lord, what am I going to do?  I can’t believe I was this stupid!  It never even occurred to me that I was going to get pregnant.  It was only a couple of times!  I didn’t even pay attention when I missed my period last month, I was so upset at the news of Joey leaving.  I’m going to be the shame of this convent and my family.  God help me…

August 9, 1970

Now that the shock has worn off, I can think a little clearer.  This baby is the only way I’ll have a part of Joey, and I’m going to cherish it.  There’s no way I can tell him about it, but at least I’ll know. 

As angry as Therese will be with me, I think she’ll help me.  But I can’t tell her the truth.  She has to believe that he didn’t want the baby and left me without a word.  If she knew I was keeping it from him, she would have a cow and demand that he step up and take responsibility.  She wouldn’t understand the commitment he has to keep.  I won’t be responsible for his departure from the church, and I don’t want him to think I’m trying to force his hand.  He has to do what he has to do, and so do I. 

I’ll call Therese.  She’ll cry and lecture and yell, but she’ll understand in the end.  She’ll know what to do.

The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m keeping my child.  Our child.

August 15, 1970

I finally talked to Therese, and it was just like I thought.  Once we got past her anger and hurt, she knew exactly what to do.  Nothing.  For now, I’m going to stay put and hope that my habit and robes hide everything well enough to keep my secret.  Therese will come when the baby is born and then I’ll go home with her.  I’ll go back to school.  Maybe secretarial school?  She’ll watch the baby for me while I go, and she said I can stay with her and Michael.  She’s also going to help me talk to Ma and Daddy.  And John.  Sometimes I think he’s worse than Ma and Daddy.  So overprotective.

I’m grateful to have a sister like Therese.  I love her so much, and I know she loves me.  I can’t think of anyone else I would trust in this situation.

Except maybe Joey.  I wonder if I’ll always miss him.  It’s not quite been a month, but I still think about him every day.  Especially at night, when the moon is full and shining on our tree.

December 24, 1970

It’s funny not to be home at Christmas.  Therese and I came up with an excuse about the orphanage needing me on Christmas and that it was just too far to travel.  I guess I’ll talk to them on the telephone tomorrow, but it won’t be the same as having Ma’s ham and turkey. 

I’m looking forward to next year’s Christmas.  My little one will be almost a year old and into everything, I’m sure. 

I finally picked out names.  For a girl, Allegra Therese.  Allegra is such a pretty name, and it means joyous in Italian.  I know she will be joyous, because she didn’t even cause me the first day of morning sickness.  Therese deserves so much more than I can give her, but the least I can do is honor her by sharing her name with my little girl.

I didn’t spend as much time picking out a boy’s name, mostly because I believe in my heart that it’s a little girl.  Just in case, though, I decided on John Joseph, for obvious (at least to me and Therese) reasons. But we’ll call him JJ. 

In the months that I’ve carried this precious life inside me, I’ve come to believe – even more so – that things happen for a reason.  People come into your life with a purpose, and that purpose is only revealed over time.  Everyone has a different gift to give you.  They give you the gift of themselves and it can touch your life in whatever way you’ll allow.  I could be bitter about my circumstances, but what’s the point?  I have the greatest joy that life has to offer growing in my womb. 

Merry Christmas my little one…

Allegra couldn’t stop the sorrow from overwhelming her, and she brought her hand up to stifle the cry that wanted to escape. 

Frannie would never get to see that next Christmas.  Or her baby.  Or work things out with the man she loved.  Her life would be over in two short months, and all she would have left behind was Allegra and this journal. 

And her love.  Her mother had loved her.  Circumstances hadn’t been ideal, but she’d loved her just as any mother should.  It was a lesson she could stand to learn.

Merry Christmas, Mama. 

She tried to turn her mind back to the journal, but couldn’t escape the tugging at her conscience.  How quickly everything could change.   It was human nature to live for the future, and pretend that it was waiting patiently for you to arrive.  But it wasn’t.   In a heartbeat, every good intention and plan for the future could be snuffed out just like her mother’s life had been.  

Richie may not be waiting for her when she went back. 

When she decided it was the right time TO go back, Fate may intervene in the form of a tragic accident.  She could be gone in an instant.  Just like her mother was.

What would he be left with then?  The knowledge that she had fled, unable to continue their relationship?  The belief that she may not love him?

Nausea roiled in her stomach at the thought.  She couldn’t do that to him.  He may be angry and upset with her when she reappeared, and she would willingly understand and accept it.  The important thing was to make sure he knew how much she loved him.  How he’d made everything in her life so much better.  That, as far as she was concerned, there was no one like him in this world.

Checking the clock, she saw that it was four-thirty.  It was still a bit early to be dragging her suitcases from the storage hall, for fear of waking the Sisters.  Allegra skimmed ahead in the journal seeing that there were only two entries left.  She would read them, take a shower  and then start packing her things.

February 5, 1971

I’m entering my 9^th month and the doctor says everything looks fine.  He doesn’t seem to be concerned that the baby is too small, even though I’ve hardly gained 5 pounds.  Of course, the baby has probably gained more while I’ve lost.  I’ve tried to eat and stay healthy, but I can’t get away from the loneliness of missing Joey, even after all these months. 

I guess in another 4 weeks I’ll be too busy to think about it.

February 14, 1971

Valentine’s Day, and I can’t help but think of Joey.  My belly is swollen with his child, and he has no idea. 

I know I wasn’t going to tell him, but I couldn’t quiet this little voice in the back of my head saying to do it.  Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part that he’d be at my side if he knew. 

So I sent a letter to him at the parish.  I figure the baby isn’t due for almost 3 weeks.  If he shows up and wants it (and me), then there’s still time to have Mancuso put on the birth certificate.  If not he or she will be a Bongiovi. 

All I can do is wait for the outcome and be happy about it – no matter what it is.

And that was it. 

Allegra rifled through the last few pages, making sure they were blank.  They were, and she closed the cover, keeping the book in her lap and mulling over what she’d read. 

Her father’s name was Joey Mancuso. 

She said it aloud and felt it roll off her tongue.  It wasn’t all that common.  As a matter of fact the only person she knew with that surname was the Bishop. 

Instantly, a picture of the church marquee flashed in her memory:  The Most Reverend J. Mancuso.

It looked like the only place she was going would be the Bishop’s office.