And Teresa's heart began to lift. "It sounds wonderful."

"I must caution you. It is one of the strictest orders in the world. Those who are admitted take a vow of chastity,

silence, and obedience. No one who enters there ever leaves."

The words sent a thrill through Teresa. "I will never want to leave. It is what I have been searching for, Father. I despise the world I live in."

But Father Berrendo was still concerned. He knew that

Teresa would be facing a life totally different from anything she had ever experienced.

"There can be no turning back."

"I won't turn back."

Early the next day, Father Berrendo took Teresa to the convent to meet the Reverend Mother Betina. He left the two of them there to talk.

The moment Teresa entered the convent, she knew. At last,

she thought exultantly. At last.

After the meeting she eagerly telephoned her mother and father.

"I've been so worried," her mother said. "When are you coming home?"

"I am home."

The bishop of Ávila performed the rite:

"Creator, Lord, send thy benediction upon thy handmaid that she shall be fortified with celestial virtue, that she may maintain complete faith and unbroken fidelity."

Teresa responded, "The kingdom of this world and all secular adornings I have despised for the love of our Lord,

Jesus Christ."

The bishop made the sign of the cross over her.

"De largitatis tuae fonte deflux it ut cum honorem nuptiarum nulla interdicta minuissent ac super sanctum conjugium nuptialis benedictio permaneret existerent conubium, concupiscerent sacr amentum, nee imitarentur quod nuptьs agitur, sed diligerent quod nuptьs praenotatur. Amen."

"Amen."

"I espouse thee to Jesus Christ, the son of the Supreme

Father. Therefore receive the seal of the Holy Ghost, so that thou be called the spouse of God, and if thou serve him faithfully, be crowned everlastingly." The bishop rose. "God,

the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth, who hath vouchsafed to choose you to an espousaiship like that of the blessed Mary, mother of our Lord, Jesus Christ—ad beatae

Mariae, matris Domini nostri, Jesu Christi, consortium—hallow you, that in the presence of God and of His angels, you may persevere, untouched and undefiled, and hold to your purpose,

love, chastity, and keep patience that you may merit to receive the crown of His blessing, through the same Christ our Lord. God make you strong when frail, strengthen you when weak, relieve and govern your mind with piety, and direct your ways. Amen."

Now, thirty years later, lying in the woods watching the sun come up over the horizon, Sister Teresa thought: I came to the convent for all the wrong reasons. I was not running to God. I was running away from the world. But God read my heart.

She was sixty years old, and the last thirty years of her life had been the happiest she had ever known. Now she had suddenly been flung back into the world she had run away from. And her mind was playing strange tricks on her.

She was no longer sure what was real and what was unreal.

The past and the present seemed to be blending together in a strange, dizzying blur. Why is this happening to me? What does God have planned for me?

For Sister Megan, the journey was an adventure. She had gotten used to the new sights and sounds that surrounded her,

and the speed with which she had adapted surprised her.

She found her companions fascinating. Amparo Jirón was a powerful woman, easily able to keep up with the two men, and yet at the same time she was very feminine.

Felix Carpio, the husky man with a reddish beard and a scar, seemed amiable and pleasant.

But to Megan, the most compelling of the group was Jaime

Miró. There was a relentless strength about him, an unshakable faith in his beliefs that reminded Megan of the nuns in the convent.

When they began the journey, Jaime, Amparo, and Felix were carrying sleeping bags and rifles on their shoulders.

"Let me carry one of the sleeping bags," Megan suggested.

Jaime Miró had looked at her in surprise, then shrugged.

"All right, Sister."

He handed her the bag. It was heavier than Megan had expected, but she did not complain. As long as I'm with them,

I'm going to do my share.

It seemed to Megan that they had been walking forever,

stumbling through the darkness, getting hit by branches,

scratched by underbrush, attacked by insects, guided only by the light of the moon.

Who are these people? Megan wondered. And why are they being hunted? Because Megan and the other nuns were also being pursued, she felt a strong rapport with her new companions.

There was little talking, but from time to time they held cryptic conversations.

"Is everything set at Valladolid?"

"Right, Jaime. Rubio and Tomás will meet us at the bank during the bullfight."

"Good. Send word to Largo Cortez to expect us. But don't give him a date."

"Comprendo."

Who are Largo Cortez and Rubio and Tomás? Megan wondered.

And what was going to happen at the bullfight and the bank?

She almost started to ask, but thought better of it. I have a feeling they wouldn't welcome a lot of questions.

Near dawn they smelled smoke from the valley below them.

"Wait here," Jaime whispered. "Be quiet."

They watched as he made his way toward the edge of the forest and disappeared from sight.

Megan said, "What is it?"

"Shut up!" Amparo Jirón hissed.

Fifteen minutes later Jaime Miró returned.

"Soldiers. We'll circle around them."

They backtracked for half a mile, then moved cautiously through the woods until they reached a side road. The countryside stretched out ahead of them, redolent with the odors of mowed hay and ripe fruit.

Megan's curiosity got the better of her. "Why are the soldiers looking for you?" she asked.

Jaime said, "Let's say we don't see eye to eye."

And she had to be satisfied with that. For now, she thought. She was determined to know more about this man.

Half an hour later, when they reached a sheltered clearing, Jaime said, "The sun's up. We'll stay here until nightfall." He looked at Megan. "Tonight we're going to have to travel faster."

She nodded. "Very well."

Jaime took the sleeping bags and rolled them out.

Felix Carpio said to Megan, "You take mine, Sister. I'm used to sleeping on the ground."

"It's yours," Megan said. "I couldn't—"

"For Christ's sake," Amparo snapped. "Get in the bag. We don't want you to keep us up screaming about goddamned spiders." There was an animosity in her tone that Megan did not understand.

Without another word, Megan climbed into the sleeping bag.

What's bothering her? she wondered.

Megan watched as Jaime unrolled his sleeping bag a few feet away from where she lay, then crawled into it. Amparo

Jirón crawled in beside him. I see, Megan thought. Jaime looked over at Megan. "You'd better get some sleep," he said.

"We have a long way ahead of us."

Megan was awakened by a moaning. It sounded as though someone were in terrible pain. She sat up, concerned. The sounds were coming from Jaime's sleeping bag. He must be terribly ill, was her first thought.

The moaning was getting louder, and then Megan heard

Amparo Jirón's voice saying, "Oh, yes, yes. Give it to me,

querido. Harder! Yes! Now! Now!"

And Megan's face flushed. She tried to close her ears to the sounds she was hearing, but it was impossible. And she wondered what it would be like to have Jaime Miró make love to her.

Instantly Megan crossed herself and began to pray:

Forgive me, Father. Let my thoughts be filled only with You.