”“I’m only fourteen.”“A baby,” Sister Saint Augustine said. “Very well. Come inside. I’ll see if Sister’s well enough to receive you...”She stepped back, and the heavy door opened wide, as if on its own. Kristen went in. The nun heaved the door shut and brushed past her, leading her into a dim foyer. The walls were covered halfway up with dark oak. The ceiling, too, was oak, deeply coffered and toothed at the edges. The rugs were spotless, but they looked old — thick and dull blue, with an. My feelings were going crazy. A part of me was tempted to search Peter’s computer while he was out, or go through the files to search out who this Katrina woman is. But I still wanted to be the wife that does not snoop. Even though I had seen the text message, even though I had followed my husband earlier in the week, I still felt defined as good because of all the things that I had not done that I could have done. But it was more than goodness. I was proud also. I was too proud to snoop. More

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