Chapter Eight
The abbey of San Germaine was possessed by quiet. Stark and chilling, it was certainly a place to think, if not live. My days were strange. I wondered why this destiny was so stunningly non s****l. Not that my s****l juices died. I think stepping into this mood of complete tranquillity only augmented my natural need, even if it had nowhere to go.
My niche in the abbey life was tending a vegetable garden. But that was only when I wasn’t praying and paying penance prostrate on the abbey floor making myself humble enough to be accepted by the saints around me. Three weeks passed and I could say that part of me was content—that was Lily Claire. Plain Lily was confused. I expected at any moment to be returned to Ravel, but that didn’t happen, and it truly didn’t make sense.
