Dylan had been afraid of this. “Is there any way that we could buy some clothing from you—something Sister María can wear that will help her to blend in. I can pay you. She’s too easy to identify in that habit.”
Laura nodded. “Yes, I can help you with that, but there’s no need to pay me.”
“How about a bag of coffee beans?” He’d saved two, along with some Cuban cigarettes, for his Tía Julia back home in Arecibo.
For the first time in the hour since he’d met her, Laura smiled.
* * *
It felt sogood to be clean, hot water, soap, and shampoo washing away some of the stress and exhaustion of the past week.
Gabriela combed her wet hair and studied her reflection in the mirror. The bruises on her cheek were darker now, her lip still a little swollen. There was a bruise on her right breast, too. She didn’t know where she’d gotten that—probably from Pitón slamming her in the chest with his shoulder.
She hadn’t seen her naked body much over the past couple of years, so it felt strange to stand there in privacy, not as the pious Sister María, but as Gabriela.
She dried her hair as best she could with the towel then reached for her plain bra, panties, and dirty, stinking habit, reluctant to put them on again.
A knock at the door.
“Hermana, I have laid out some clean clothes for you to wear. We don’t think it’s safe for you to be seen in your habit. You’re too recognizable. I will leave you in peace to dress. If these don’t fit, we’ll find something else, but I think you’re close to my size.”
They were right about wearing her habit. The garments had protected her so far, but now they made her stand out.
Relieved, Gabriela wrapped the towel around herself and opened the door to find jeans and a yellow V-neck T-shirt emblazoned with a hot-pink poppy sitting on the bed beside a pair of pastel pink bikini-style panties and a black one-size-fits-all sports bra.
She hurried over to the bed, unable to keep from smiling as she ran her fingers over the faded, butter-soft denim. God, how she had missed jeans!
She dropped the towel, stepped into the panties, and reached for the jeans. Laura was shorter than she was and very slender, but Gabriela had probably lost ten pounds during her time at the Mission. The jeans fit like a glove.
She drew the sports bra over her head and then the T-shirt. And for a moment, she stood there, savoring the feel of wearing normal clothes again.
“Hermana, do they fit?”
“Yes, Laura, and thank you very much!” Gabriela gathered her dirty habit, panties, and bra, and bundled them into the towel, not sure what else to do with them.
She opened the bedroom door to find Laura standing there.
The woman’s face lit up. “You’re such a pretty girl. I’m surprised you had the chance to become a nun.”
“That’s very kind of you, Laura, but external beauty is fleeting.” Still, Gabriela couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you for lending me these clothes. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to bring them back to you.”
Probably never.
“Don’t worry about that. Just make it to safety.” Laura took Gabriela’s filthy habit and underthings. “I’ll wash these and save them.”
“It’s better for you to burn them. I don’t want the Guachimanes to find you with them.” Then she held out her rosary. “This is for you.”
Laura stared at her in amazement. “I can’t take it.”
“You’ll be helping to protect me. I’ve prayed countless times with this, so I hope it will bless you and Yadiel.”
Then, over Laura’s shoulder, Gabriela saw him.
Dylan stood down the hallway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze moving over her, raw male hunger on his face.
Gabriela’s belly fluttered, an emotion she hadn’t felt in months stirring inside her—desire.
Dylan seemed to catch himself. He stood upright and looked away. “No one will think you’re a nun now.”