Unfinished Desires Read Online Free PDF Page A

part well?”
    “Actually, I was hoping to have an audience with you, Mother Ravenel.”
    “Well, here I am. And this is Mother Malloy, fresh off the train from Boston. I’ve been giving her the grand tour. Mother, this is Henry Vick, the uncle I was telling you about, Chloe’s guardian. Mother Malloy will be taking charge of Chloe’s class, Henry.”
    “How do you do, Mother Malloy.”
    “How do you do, Mr. Vick. I’m looking forward to knowing your niece.” Her voice was low and precise. Only the “fah-ward” proclaimed her Boston roots. But behind those few words about Chloe, which in themselves stopped at the perfunctory, he wanted to believe he heard empathy and a warmth of heart. She was lovely despite her pallor.
    “I am still getting to know her myself,” he said. “And the more I know her, the better I like her. She is deep and she is hurting. She lost her mother at Easter—it was all very sudden, unexpected. This has been a period of adjustment for both of us.”
    “You have been a godsend to that child, Henry,” Mother Ravenel assured him, “and now you are doing exactly right in letting us help you. We will do our best to give her round-the-clock motherhood and guidance, won’t we, Mother Malloy?”
    “The thing is,” said Henry, realizing that the presence of the other nun might ease his task. “I have decided—that is, we have decided, Chloe and I—that we prefer to go on as we are. Chloe will be coming to Mount St. Gabriel’s as a day student and living with me. We agreed on this only this morning, but I wanted to inform you as soon as possible.”
    He could see Suzanne admirably suppressing her annoyance.
    “Well, Henry, this is news. But if it’s what you all have decided, I appreciate you letting me know so promptly. Of course, you understand I can’t refund Chloe’s boarding fee. There are no exceptions, even for an old friend. Besides”—here she managed a laugh—“your money’s probably already been spent.”
    “If it hasn’t been,” was his gallant comeback, “spend it on something wonderful.”
    “And what would you consider wonderful, Henry?”
    “Oh, a memorial ciborium for Chloe’s mother, encrusted with garnets. That was Agnes’s birthstone.”
    “Well, I don’t know if the fee will cover garnets , Henry.”
    “It will if I make up the difference. Have Haywood Silversmiths do it. Her dates on the rim.”
    “What about ‘Class of ‘34’?”
    “That, too, of course,” Henry magnanimously conceded.

    DURING THIS MELLIFLUOUS sparring between the headmistress and the uncle, Mother Malloy took what she hoped were unobserved ragged breaths. Or, rather, she was trying to find her breath. These two persons were well matched. There was history between them. Though Mother Ravenel had clearly been caught off guard by Mr. Vick’s announcement, she had remained in control. What, though, had she meant by “you all”? Didn’t that imply that more than two people were involved in the decision to keep Chloe at home? Or was this a regional quirk of speech? Mr. Vick had an astringent manner, yet was courtly in combat. He reminded her of her professor of Renaissance history at Boston College, Father Galliard: dry, exacting, but always cordial.
    But then, to her dismay, her light-headedness increased. Blue and purple spots showered inside her eyes. She caught herself tilting forward and would have fallen had she not reached out to grab the hulk of russet marble from which Mr. Vick had risen to greet them.
    The next thing she knew, she herself was semireclining on its benchlike ledge, their concerned faces floating above her.
    “—entirely my fault,” Mother Ravenel was saying. “I’ve been dragging her up our hills like she was a mountain goat. Speak to us, Mother Malloy.”
    Henry Vick was offering to bring a glass of water from the kitchen. “Or I have a flask of cognac in my car.”
    “No, please. It was—whatever it was has passed.”
    “When did you last