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At Nonnberg

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Maria knelt by her narrow cot, gazing blindly at the crucifix by the window. She’d been so sure she wanted this, so sure that the only serenity the world might offer was the safety of walls and the steadying rhythm of the ecclesiastical hours. Music, always, and service to God – that’s what the convent offered. A chance to grow up.

But no matter how hard she prayed she couldn’t resurrect that dream. Every time she closed her eyes she saw eloquent eyebrows and a crooked sardonic smile. Saw him, and in her mind’s ear always the sound of children singing.