Runaway

St. Clouds

The aging church van rumbled over pitted roads and through depressed neighborhoods, each pothole jostling Jess where she sat rigid in the rear compartment. Through the tinted windows, boarded up storefronts and vacant lots rolled past in a blur of urban blight.

She clutched the tattered straps of her backpack tightly, the only through-line remaining from her abrupt departure from home nearly a week ago. So much upheaval, turmoil and jarring transience packed into such a brief span. Now she was being uprooted once again, shuttled off to parts unknown at the advisement of Father Gregory.

The kind priest glanced back at her occasionally through the rear-view mirror, offering a warm smile and reassuring nod. Jess did her best to return the gesture, but her face felt numb, her throat constricted by a hard lump of trepidation.

Eventually, the decrepit city streets gave way to a countryside highway, ramshackle homes and apartment blocks replaced by verdant fields and groves. Jess stared out at the passing scenery, its pastoral innocence offering a stark juxtaposition to her inner turmoil and the anguish she'd so recently witnessed.

After what felt like an eternity of watching telephone poles and fences whip by, the van rolled through a set of ornate wrought-iron gates and up a winding tree-lined drive. Jess peered out with trepidation at the austere stone edifice looming ahead - a sprawling complex of cut granite and leaded windows that radiated cold grandeur.

St. Cloud's Sisters of Mercy Home for Wayward and Orphaned Children.

The van crunched to a halt on the circular drive. Father Gregory emerged, giving Jess an encouraging nod before moving to greet the solemn-faced older woman in a habit waiting at the front steps. They spoke in hushed voices for a few moments before the priest gestured for Jess to join them.

"This is Sister Abigail, she oversees the operations here at St. Cloud's," Father Gregory said, placing a comforting hand on Jess's shoulder as they approached the imposing nun. "She's been apprised of your situation and will see that you receive the appropriate care and guidance during your stay."

Jess couldn't help but shrink a bit from Sister Abigail's stern, appraising glare. She was tall and severe, with a hawkish nose and eyes that radiated strictness. A far cry from Father Gregory's warmth and compassion.

"You may rest assured, Father, we shall endeavor to put this young lamb back on a path of piety and righteousness," the nun said in a clipped, no-nonsense tone. "She shall have no further cause to stray into the sins of the world under our austere stewardship."

Jess stole a glance at Father Gregory, recognizing the dissonance between the woman's dour, almost militaristic piety and the more nurturing environment he'd described. Part of her wanted to beg him not to leave her in this cold, forbidding place.

But then the priest gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze and smiled down at her paternally. "Do not be afraid or lose heart, child. The sisters may subscribe to a philosophy of rigorous discipline...but it comes from a place of profound devotion. You would do well to embrace their tutelage through this transition. It will help fortify your spirit for the path that lies ahead."

Jess managed a muted nod, though her chest felt hollow at the prospect of being left behind at this severe institution. Father Gregory seemed to sense her apprehension. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to barely above a whisper.

"Be strong and have faith, Jess. We must all undergo trials and sacrifices to claim the ultimate reward of inner grace. I shall check on you again in a few days' time."

He stepped back, giving her an encouraging nod before turning to follow the brusque Sister Abigail through the heavy oak doors of the main building. Jess watched him go, fear and uncertainty gnawing at her insides.