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“Come,” Sister Philomena urged. “Walk with me. I know it doesn’t look like much from this side, but there’s a lovely little garden in the back. I believe your mother liked gardens.”
Roman’s jaw clenched, and he wanted to demand answers immediately. He thought about calling Salvatore and getting him to follow, but surely Roman could deal with whatever the Sister was going to do. Or say. He idly wondered if he was going to be forced to kill a nun. And whether that would reserve him an extra special place in hell.
He followed her, his thoughts swirling, and was surprised to discover the nun hadn’t been exaggerating. The back of the main building had a paved courtyard with towering trees and flowers in full bloom. His throat constricted in recognition—many of them were the exact ones he had tattooed on his chest in memory of his mother.
Sister Philomena sat on a stone bench. “Luciana came to Monash on a business trip with your father, I believe. This place was already aiding the community, and she came to offer a helping hand whilst in town. She was very beautiful, Roman. She lit up whatever space she was in.”
“Yes,” Roman said, swallowing hard. “That was her.”
Sister Philomena smiled at him. “You do the same.”
He grunted but didn’t correct her. He knew it wasn’t true. He was too much like his father. “Keep going,” he urged.
“She spent the day working here in the garden. It gave her peace, I believe. And courage,” she added, meeting his eyes. “After a few hours, she confessed her husband was not a good man, and she was looking for a way to leave him. She had just discovered she was pregnant. Becoming a parent has a way of changing a person at their very core. Or so I have observed.”
Roman’s head swirled. This was certainly not what he had expected when he decided to pay a visit to the shelter. Was the old woman lying to him? If so, for what purpose? And if she was not, well, it meant he was standing in a space where his mother had once been. Where she had once tended to the earth. Gardening had been her one joy—other than her children. And the one thing she could do to escape his father’s company. His father had hated dirt—unless he was burying someone in it, of course. He would need to look into the nun, as well as everything she had just said. He would get Luca onto it. His brother had a vested interest in the subject of their mother as well. It was only fair.
“Are you okay? Have I misspoken?” Sister Philomena asked solicitously, her eyes kind.
“I...” Roman cleared his throat when his voice cracked. The small sign of weakness annoyed him, and he closed off the part of him that was the little boy yearning for information about his mother. Compartmentalization was one of his strong suits. “I am fine. And you didn’t misspeak. I appreciate the information. This is all very unexpected. I wasn’t aware anyone in my family had business ventures in Monash. It’s one of the reasons why I made it my base of operations.”
“And your home,” Sister Philomena added, causing Roman to look at her. “It is also your home, is it not?”
Roman nodded but didn’t speak.
“Unfortunately, your father returned before I was able to offer more than a sympathetic ear to your mother. She left, and I never saw her again.” She shook her head sadly, reaching forward to stroke a petal in vibrant red. “I heard she died in childbirth.”
“I heard that too,” he replied. The Sister didn’t question his tone or response, but he saw the shrewd look she tossed him. Oh, yes, he mused. She is more than she seems. It would do him no good to wonder what his life would have been like if the woman before him was successful in aiding his mother. So, again, he pushed the useless thoughts away, locking them up.
“I also heard you killed your father,” Sister Pip said next.
She said it so easily that it threw Roman for a moment. “I’ve never been charged with his murder.”
The nun snorted, waving his comment away. “Of course, you haven’t. It wasn’t a question, Roman. Merely a statement.” She looked him over again. “I would hope someone who holds no love for the type of man your father was would treat women very differently than he did.”
“I would hope so, too,” Roman agreed, unsure where the conversation was going.
“Good. That means I can trust you with a certain green-eyed doctor,” she stated. “Come now, help me up.”
Roman was speechless as he offered the Sister his arm. She used it for leverage, though he was sure she didn’t need it. The strength in her frame belied the fact. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he hedged.
Sister Philomena scoffed. “These eyes might be old, but they see just fine. There’s also nothing wrong with my brain. You came here looking for a friend, stating you’re responsible for a recent large donation. A donation that Dr. Hawthorne brought to me. Of course, it is Angela you’re sniffing after.”
His mouth fell open. “I’m not sniffing after her!”
“You’re not?” Roman shook his head and Sister Pip continued. “Well, you should be.”
Roman choked on his own spit. It was embarrassing. The nun patted him on the back until he got himself under control. He eyed her as if she was a bomb about to blow. “You’re scary, you know that?”
She laughed. “So I have been told. Anyway, Angela is in the clinic, talking a young woman through her options for an unexpected pregnancy. She will be out soon.”
They walked back to the front of the building in silence. Roman really had nothing more to say. He’d been completely blindsided. Both from the information he received and due to the wily woman still gripping his arm.
“If you ever want to talk more about Luciana—or anything, for that matter—the doors of Lighthouse are always open.” Sister Philomena patted his arm before letting go. “And here is our Angela now.”
Roman looked up, spotting Angela leaving the main building with a younger female. She was dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, and a brown sweater. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and Roman thought she looked amazing. The gentle way she wrapped her arm around the teen, and the way she whispered into her ear spoke volumes of her compassionate nature and kind soul.
“Ah, I see.” Sister Pip nodded her head slowly. “You don’t need to sniff after her, do you? It’s already too late for that.”
