What have I done? The thought shouted at her as she set foot in the patch of woods leading back to the towering stone building. For a few fleeting moments, she considered running away. She could walk back to the ferry and get a hold of her parents on the mainland, ask them to come and get her.

The idea quickly diminished as she pictured her mother's disappointed face. Returning home pregnant would hurt her mother more than anything she'd done so far. She had to stay, she couldn't bring that kind of shame on her parents.

Her heart dropped as she spotted the mossy statue of Mother Mary standing all by herself, surrounded by grass and vines. The courtyard was empty, they'd all gone inside. She sprinted towards the back door, across the open space, hoping to avoid being spotted from the windows above. Once there, she grasped the metal handle and pulled. It was locked.

She stood staring at the door, her mouth dry—hand dropping to her side. She'd have to go through the front, it was the only other way inside. With jittery legs, she walked alongside the stone prison, feeling as if she were a young girl bringing the paddle back to her father for punishment. Only this was worse—far worse.

The front lot was free of cars and people, only a few bikes stood, propped against the gate. Everyone was inside. She bent, hiding between the bushes on the side of the wide stone porch, trying to work up the courage to make her way up the stairs to the door. Everytime she made up her mind to go, she imagined the door flying open and Sister Mary Thomas seething on the other side.

She couldn't hide forever. With a deep breath, she made up her mind. She'd make a run for it. If Sister Mary Thomas was behind the door, the worst she could do was yell at her. Izzy would block her words out and retreat to some place in the back of her mind until it was all over.

With wobbling knees, she climbed the stairs, dread weaving its way into every fiber of her body as she neared the top. Like a nightmare, the door swung open in front of her.

To her relief, Mara stepped out, wearing winged sunglasses, her purse in her hand. She stopped abruptly at the sight of Izzy, slowly pulling the sunglasses down from her eyes. "Izzy?"

Izzy stood gawking, words of explanation failing to come to her rescue.

The nurse closed the door behind her, looking around. "What are you doing out here?"

Izzy had run out of lies. She pushed her hair behind her ear, staring at the step below her.

"Izzy." Mara said sternly, causing Izzy to met her gaze, her eyes gleaming with guilt. "You know you're not supposed to be out here. It's against the rules."

As if on cue, the door swung open once again, and Sister Mary Helen stepped out. Her head snapped around when she noticed Izzy. "What is the meaning of this, Isadora?" she said, her icy eyes scrutinizing her. "Where have you been?"

Izzy's mouth felt like sandpaper as she struggled to form a response. She wanted to crumple like a gown falling from a hanger and disappear in a pool on the ground.

Out of nowhere, Mara grabbed her arm, as if steadying her. "Are you feeling better now, with the fresh air?" she asked.

"I, uh." Izzy caught a slight nod from the nurse. Mara's eyes told her she wanted her to play along. "Yes, I feel much better now," she said.

The nun looked from Mara to Izzy, a frown covering her face. "Why is this girl outside?"

"She had a horrible bout of nausea," Mara said. "With all that is going on inside, I felt a bit of fresh air would do the trick."

The nun scowled. "Mara, in the future, please inform me if you are taking one of the girls outside. We've been looking for Isadora since she failed to show for lunch."

"Yes, sister." Mara gave her a curt nod as she lead Izzy back through the doorway.

"Hurry and join the other girls in the chapel," the nun said as she made her way down the porch stairs.

As soon as the door was shut, Izzy turned and threw her arms around Mara. "Thank you. Oh thank you!" she gushed, relief flooding over her.

"Shush." Mara pried Izzy away from her. She stood back so that the two were face to face. "I'm not sure where you were coming from, but this is the one and only time I'm going to cover for you. I'm risking my employment here."

"I'm really sorry," said Izzy.

"Go on now. Get to the chapel before you get into anymore trouble." Mara said. She turned and opened the front door, descending the porch stairs as it shut behind Izzy.

***

"Where were you?" asked Gloria.

She, Izzy and Dottie were walking back to their room from the chapel. They'd spent an hour praying for the sick. Izzy's knees were throbbing with each step. Inside her stomach, the kicks were growing stronger, she felt the baby was turning in circles as they walked.

"I told you, I was sick." Izzy lied.

She didn't trust Gloria to keep her secret. Dottie strolled along silently at her side. Izzy's heart quickened, wondering what the little girl had told the questioning nuns earlier. She prayed their stories matched.

"You don't look sick," said Gloria, her brow arching.

"I'm not anymore." Izzy wished the persistent girl would just give up and let it be. But, that was not a trait that Gloria possessed.

Gloria's eyes narrowed. "Come to think of it, I don't remember you coming inside with the rest of us." She drew in a sharp breath, coming to a halt in the hallway, her hand to her chest. "Did you stay outside that entire time?"

"She came inside," said Dottie, quickly coming to her defense. "I remember seeing her. You were asleep when we came back from the beach."

Izzy gave Dottie's hand a grateful squeeze. Gloria didn't seem satisfied, but she stopped asking questions. In the welcome reprieve, Izzy's mind drifted to Judd and Betsy's cottage and she smiled. She'd hold those memories close to her heart, and draw on them when things got worse. Wes's chestnut eyes lingered in her mind and she suddenly wished she would have kissed him. As crazy as it seemed, she would have loved to have that memory to relive on her lonely nights at the home. She would never see him again—it was better that way. The brief memories she had would be perfect, there'd never be a chance to ruin them.

They reached the door. Gloria was blubbering on about her boyfriend back home, when they opened the it, and froze—all three of them staring at the girl on the bed that used to be Rita's.

"What are you doing here? Why are you sitting on Rita's bed?" Gloria snapped.

The girl rose, she was tall, with short, raven hair and glasses that seemed a little large for her face. "Hello, I'm Francine," she said.

Gloria rushed forward, throwing open Rita's dresser drawers one at a time. All of her things were gone. She spun around. "I don't care who you are," she spat. "What have you done with Rita's things?"

"Gloria," said Izzy. "She's new, she doesn't know. It's not her fault."

"No," cried Gloria. "No!" She burst out of the room and took off down the hall.

Izzy and Dottie stood, looking from the door to Francine. The poor girl shifted uncomfortably in front of them.

"I'm really sorry," said Izzy after a few moments. "It's not you she's upset with. We—we're just surprised that they moved you into our room. We thought that Rita was coming back."

The girl looked at her hands. "What happened to Rita?"

"She had her baby early," Izzy explained. "The baby died, but she's alright. She's down in the infirmary."

She stopped, a sudden, dark feeling coming over her. Was Rita alright? Why had they moved Francine into the room?

She turned to Dottie. "Stay here with Francine."

***

"You didn't get her number? Her address, or anything?" Hank shook his head as the three of them stood on the beach, their slacks rolled up, feet immersed in the cold water.

"Nothing," said Wes, running his hand through his hair.

"A fine Romeo you are," said Gene, shaking his head.

Wes picked up a flat rock from the under the water and tossed it. It skipped across the surface three times before it sunk. "When we get back to Los Angeles, I won't have time for a girl anyhow," he said. "It wouldn't be fair to her. Besides—she didn't seem that interested when I brought it up."

"Oh—so that's what it really is." Gene turned to Wes. "This is a first for you, isn't it Wes? She turned you down, didn't she?"

"Welcome to the club," said Hank with a sigh. "Now you finally know how it feels."

"Shut up," said Wes. He looked down the beach as he'd done several times in the past couple of hours, hoping to see her standing there. Nothing. He was an idiot for asking whether or not she had a boyfriend. It was way too soon, they'd only just met. He'd scared her away.

"Well," said Hank, nudging him. "The good thing is that now you've got some experience to draw from when you sing that song that Judd wrote about losing the girl you love."

Wes huffed, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. "Hank, you don't fall in love with a girl after a couple of hours."

"Says who?" asked Gene, flinging a rock out over the water. It skipped five times before it sunk. He smiled triumphantly at the other two. "There's no formula on how long it takes for a person to fall in love."

"She is pretty. I can see why she caught your eye," said Hank. "But, she's kinda plain too. And serious, come to think about it. Definitely not the type you usually go for—blonde, blue eyes, long legs."

"Maybe that's the problem," said Wes with a sigh. "She's not my type." He gave the beach one more sweep, before he sloshed to the shore, gathering up his socks and shoes. "Come on guys, let's go. We've got to pack up for tomorrow."

Despite his excitement over returning to California, his mood turned sour as they made their way back to Judd and Betsy's cabin. Why was he brooding over the girl? It was embarrassing, the way he was hoping she'd appear back on the beach, looking for her like a lovesick puppy. He wasn't desperate. He'd never had a shortage of choices when it came to girls in California. They practically threw themselves at him, especially when he sang.

She was pretty. He pictured the way the light caught her chestnut eyes and her cute, slightly turned up nose. He liked the way she blushed when he looked at her, she seemed so innocent, but definitely not naive. Then there was the hint of defiance that she carried with her—he found it appealing, although he had no idea why.

Give it up, he told himself. Tomorrow was the beginning of a new life. 

Hello and thanks for waiting for this update. Hope I didn't lose anyone in the process! What do you think will happen next?