Excerpt from The First Stone

“So you've made yourself comfortable, then? You're happy with your room?” Yesterday had been my day off. Rachel must have done the intake. I reminded myself to check Magnolia's file after she'd left the office.

“It's great. I'm sharing with Lou-Ellen and her little boy. He's only a couple months older than Moonbeam. Food's good, too.” She flashed me another grin and glanced down at her generous body. “Not that I need it!”

Her laughter kindled mine. Our eyes met. Hers were espresso-brown, practically black, fringed with mascara-augmented lashes. They snagged me like magnets.

Something jolted through me-a lightning strike, a sudden storm, some personal earthquake. The floor dropped out from under my chair and I found myself suspended in space. My breath caught in my throat and perspiration soaked the armpits of my gray wool sweater. I'd been chilly before -- we tried to stretch our donor's generosity as far as possible -- but now I burned. I couldn't tear myself away from her gaze, though I knew I'd been staring far too long.

“Are you okay, Sister?” Her husky voice, barely louder than a whisper, wound its way into my stunned consciousness. Her hand hovered above mine, threatening a gesture of comfort.

Don't touch me, I pleaded silently. Don't. I pulled back, abruptly enough that I probably seemed impolite, and folded my hands in my lap, a safe distance from the smooth, dark glow of her skin. An almost forgotten ache woke in my belly. The tips of my breasts tingled under my shapeless garments.

“Ah--oh, um--sorry. I--um, just felt a bit faint. Most likely it's low blood sugar. I have problems with that sometimes.” I fumbled in my desk drawer and found a couple of lemon drops. “These help. Do you want one?”

“I shouldn't,” Magnolia replied. But she popped it into her mouth anyway, her lips pursed into a tight O around the candy.

I sucked hard on the sweet-sour nugget, glad for an excuse not to talk while I regained my composure. What in the name of Jesus was going on? Why was I reacting this way? She was a guest, a client. I had a responsibility to her and her child, a responsibility to protect and succor her. To nurture her fragile recovery and send her back into the world stronger, better able to handle the challenges I knew she'd face. To do that, I had to be friendly but a bit aloof. Our women needed the sense of authority that came with my status. They needed the discipline.

As for me -- I was a nun, for heaven's sake, sworn to chastity and a pure life of service to others. Lust was a mortal sin.

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