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boarded the bus, the tears streaming down his cheeks. She would always remember her last sight of him: as the bus pulled out of the station, he’d taken the handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes. Then with slumped shoulders, he’d turned and walked away. She’d watched sadly, wishing she could have spared him this grief and knowing she couldn’t.
    Despite Angie’s eagerness to enter the religious life, she was nervous. She arrived in Boston midafternoon and caughta cab that deposited her in front of the motherhouse. She was cheered to see that the wrought-iron gates were open wide as though to welcome her. Carrying her small battered suitcase—originally her mother’s—Angie walked resolutely up the brick walkway to the convent’s entrance and rang the bell.
    â€œAngelina. I see you made it on your own.” A tall nun, so thin and sleek that she resembled a crane, stepped forward to greet her.
    Angie didn’t recall meeting her before.
    â€œI’m Sister Mary Louise. We met briefly when you made your application. Don’t worry if you don’t remember me. You met a lot of us that day.”
    Angie smiled in relief. There’d been so many, and their faces and names were a blur in her mind.
    â€œI’m the Postulant Mistress. We’ll be having tea shortly. Now, come inside and make yourself comfortable. Several other girls are already here.”
    She was ushered to a formal room furnished with a dining table and chairs. Angelina recognized Mother Superior there; she also saw three young women, obviously the other postulants. What surprised her was the immediate sense of connection she experienced. These girls, who sat self-consciously at the table, sipping tea and munching cookies, would become her new community. Her family.
    â€œMother Superior, I’m sure you remember Angelina Marcello,” Sister Mary Louise said, escorting Angelina to the older nun.
    Angelina hesitated, uncertain if anything was required of her, such as bowing or genuflecting. She knew priests kissed the Bishop’s ring, but she wasn’t up on etiquette for meeting such an important woman.
    Sister Agnes’s smile was warm and encompassing. “Of course I remember Angelina. You come to us from Buffalo, New York. I’m right, aren’t I?”
    Angie nodded, holding herself stiff for fear of saying or doing something wrong.
    â€œI thought so. Is there a chair for Angelina, Sister?” Mother asked and Angie was offered an empty place at the table. As soon as she sat, Mother Superior introduced her to the others. “Meet Karen. She’s from Boston and Marie is from Columbus, Ohio. Josephine comes to us all the way from California. We’re so pleased you’re here to be part of us.”
    By the end of the day, Angelina had been introduced to twenty women ranging in age from seventeen to twenty-two. The postulants were served an early dinner, with only Mother Superior joining them. Because they sat across from each other, Angie and Karen had a chance to talk.
    â€œDid your family bring you?” Angie asked, aware that most girls had been accompanied by their parents and sometimes siblings.
    Karen gazed down at the polished tile floor and shook her head. “They were unhappy with my decision.” Her hair was dark and straight and fell to the middle of her back. She had a pretty face, Angie thought.
    â€œMy father was too,” she confessed. This trip to Boston was the first time Angie had traveled anywhere outside of New York State. She’d worried about making the trip by herself but in the end, she’d managed quite nicely. That reassured her, in some small way, that she’d made the right choice.
    â€œI think this is such a beautiful life,” Karen told her. Her eyes held a dreamy look. “The habits are lovely, aren’t they?”
    Angie’s smile was vague. She’d never stopped to think about the