Raoul and Monique were on a train, naked, making love, and the train was crossing a trestle high over a canyon, and the trestle collapsed and everyone on the train plunged to their deaths.

Raoul and Monique were in a hotel room, naked in bed.

Raoul laid down a cigarette and the room exploded into flames, and the two of them were burned to death, and their screams awakened Teresa.

Raoul and Monique fell from a mountain, drowned in a river, died in an airplane crash.

It was always a different dream.

It was always the same dream.

Teresa's mother and father were frantic. They watched their daughter wasting away, and there was nothing they could do to help her. And then suddenly Teresa began to eat. She ate constantly. She could not seem to get enough food. She gained her weight back, and then kept gaining and gaining until her body was gross.

When her mother and father tried to talk to her about her pain, she said, "I'm fine now. Don't worry about me."

Teresa carried on her life as though nothing were wrong.

She continued to go into town and shop and do all the errands she had always done. She joined her mother and father for dinner each evening and read or sewed. She had built an emotional fortress around herself, and she was determined that no one would ever breach it. No man will ever want to look at me. Never again.

Outwardly, Teresa seemed fine. Inside, she was sunk in an abyss of deep, desperate loneliness. Even when she was surrounded by people, she sat in a lonely chair in a lonely room, in a lonely house, in a lonely world.

A little over a year after Raoul had left Teresa, her father was packing to leave for Ávila.

"I have some business to transact there," he told Teresa.

"But after that, I'll be free. Why don't you come with me?

Ávila is a fascinating town. It will do you good to get away from here for a while."

"No, thank you, Father."

He looked at his wife and sighed. "Very well."

The butler walked into the drawing room.

"Excuse me, Miss De Fosse. This letter just arrived for you."

Even before Teresa opened it, she was filled with a prescience of something terrible looming before her.

The letter read:

Teresa, my darling Teresa:

God knows I do not have a right to call you darling, after the terrible thing I have done, but I promise to make it up to you if it takes me a lifetime. I don't know where to begin.

Monique has run off and left me with our two-month-old daughter. Frankly, I am relieved. I must confess that I have been in hell ever since the day I left you. I will never understand why I did what I did. I seem to have been caught up in some kind of magic spell of Monique's, but I knew from the beginning that my marriage to her was a terrible mistake.

It was you I always loved. I know now that the only place I can find my happiness is at your side. By the time you receive this letter, I will be on my way back to you.

I love you, and I have always loved you, Teresa. For the sake of the rest of our lives together, I beg your forgiveness. I want…

She could not finish reading the letter. The thought of seeing Raoul again and his and Monique's baby was unthinkable, obscene.

She threw the letter down, hysterical.

"I must get out of here," Teresa screamed. "Tonight. Now.

Please… please!"

It was impossible for her parents to calm her.

"If Raoul is coming here," her father said,"you should at least talk to him."

"No! If I see him, I'll kill him." She grabbed her father's arms, tears streaming down her face. "Take me with you," she pleaded.

She would go anywhere, as long as she escaped from this place.

And so that evening Teresa and her father set out for

Ávila.

Teresa's father was distraught over his daughter's unhappiness. He was not by nature a compassionate man, but in the past year Teresa had won his admiration with her courageous behavior. She had faced the townspeople with her head held high and had never complained. He felt helpless,

unable to console her.

He remembered how much solace she had once found in church, and when they arrived in Ávila he said to Teresa,

"Father Berrendo, the priest here, is an old friend of mine.

Perhaps he can help you. Will you speak to him?"

"No." She would have nothing to do with God.

Teresa stayed in the hotel room alone while her father conducted his business. When he returned, she was seated in the same chair, staring at the walls.

"Teresa, please see Father Berrendo."

"No."

He was at a loss. She refused to leave the hotel room, and she refused to return to Иze.

As a last resort, the priest came to see Teresa.

"Your father tells me that you once attended church regularly."

Teresa looked into the eyes of the frail-looking priest and said coldly, "I'm no longer interested. The Church has nothing to offer me."

Father Berrendo smiled. "The Church has something to offer everyone, my child. The Church gives us hope and dreams…"

"I've had my fill of dreams. Never again."

He took her hands in his thin hands and saw the white scars of razor slashes on her wrists, as faint as a long-ago memory.

"God doesn't believe that. Talk to Him and He will tell you."

Teresa just sat there, staring at the wall, and when the priest finally made his way out of the room, she was not even aware of it.

The following morning Teresa walked into the cool, vaulted church, and almost immediately the old, familiar feeling of peace stole over her. The last time she had been in a church was to curse God. A feeling of deep shame filled her. It was her own weakness that had betrayed her, not God.

"Forgive me," she whispered. "I have sinned. I have lived in hate. Help me. Please help me."

She looked up, and Father Berrendo was standing there.

When she finished, he led her into his office behind the vestry.

"I don't know what to do, Father. I don't believe in anything anymore. I've lost faith." Her voice was filled with despair.

"Did you have faith when you were a young girl?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Then you still have it, my child. Faith is real and permanent. It is everything else that is transient."

They talked that day for hours.

When Teresa returned to the hotel late in the afternoon,

her father said, "I must get back to Иze. Are you ready to leave?"

"No, Papa. Let me stay here for a while."

He hesitated. "Will you be all right?"

"Yes, Father. I promise."

Teresa and Father Berrendo met every day after that. The priest's heart went out to Teresa. He saw in her not a fat,

unattractive woman, but a beautiful, unhappy spirit. They spoke of God and creation and the meaning of life, and slowly, almost in spite of herself, Teresa began to find comfort again. Something that Father Berrendo said one day triggered a deep response in her.

"My child, if you do not believe in this world, then believe in the next world. Believe in the world where Jesus is waiting to receive you."

And for the first time since the day that was supposed to have been her wedding day, Teresa began to feel at peace again. The church had become her haven, just as it had once been. But there was her future to think about.

"I have no place to go."

"You could return home."

"No. I could never go back there. I could never face Raoul again. I don't know what to do. I want to hide, and there is no place to hide."

Father Berrendo was silent for a long time. Finally he spoke. "You could stay here."

She looked around the office, puzzled. "Here?"

"The Cistercian convent is nearby." He leaned forward.

"Let me tell you about it. It is a world inside a world,

where everyone is dedicated to God. It is a place of peace and serenity."