Chapter Seven
Sister Mary Rose, the nun with the Mona Lisa smile, bowed her head to a crucifix that sanctified the space, her hands folded tight, as if concrete had been allowed to bond the fingers in place. The profile of her face was interrupted by a white coif - a cotton cap secured by a bandeau and white wimple of starched linen that covered her cheeks and neck to frame her face. A black veil, the last piece of the headdress, fell from the top of her head down to meet her tunic. The light from a small table lamp illuminated the features of a woman totally unaware of her grace and beauty.
It was the same routine each night. She prayed she would be humble, kind to her sisters in the Lord (especially the one she didn’t understand), and be fair to the children and not pick favorites. But
