Darker London

Trying to find a church that she fitted into had become one of Catalina's most important pre-occupations, especially since she had made the decision to marry Ciaran. They needed somewhere to wed that would support them, somewhere that would become their home with people who would become their family. They had come to this church last Sunday, although this morning Ciaran had been unwell and said he couldn't make it along. Catalina had sent her love and said she'd pray for a quick recovery from whatever cold had knocked him down.

She'd spoken with some of the other members of the congregation last week, but not many as she would have liked, and she had spoken in depth with the Father as well, explaining her search for a church in the area but not talking about her fall from grace. If he asked, however, she would not keep it from him.

This week as people gathered just outside after the service to chat with friends, Catalina stood a little awkwardly and smiled at anyone who met her eye. She wasn't sure where to even begin with a new church, not really. It had been hard enough coming to London in the first place and starting at a new one, and in truth she still missed so much of her church back in Chile. There were ways things were done, and words that were said, and just little differences in the running and worship that she felt she had lost. It wasn't big things, it never was, but it sometimes made her feel a sense of isolation just to be so far from the place where she had first fallen in love with God.

She held a cup of tea in her hand - most had tea or coffee or juice, a few moments to turn themselves from the world inside the church and back to the one outside - and she blew on it softly before taking a sip.

[Set a monthish after this scene, and backdated to a couple months ago. I'll work it out properly later.]

Catalina thought a lot of sin of late: women were the gateway through which sin had entered the world, and Catalina was the conduit for Father Ciaran's own sin. What was she meant to do with that knowledge? She spent a lot of time in prayer and reflection and she had officially left the Sisterhood. Guilt. Guilt was a lot of her focus, but there were other things she couldn't help but return to as well.

Like Ciaran. Like the fact that Ciaran had said he wanted to marry her. At the time she'd pushed it away, pushed him away, and since he'd come to her on that occasion she'd not seen him.

But Catalina knew she wanted only two things in her life: The love of God and the love of Ciaran. Could she be allowed to have them both?

She found Ciaran's home outside of the Church by asking her ex-sisters and her ex-priest. (Ex, because she could no longer attend that Church, not without facing all those she'd come to know there and feeling she had to explain her failings. No one had ever asked - either they knew her sin and said nothing, or simply assumed that the religious order had not been for her. It was unusual for young people to leave the order in the first year and a half after taking their vows. That time was given to the newly initiated for that very purpose. One had to be sure, and Catalina had thought she was at the time.)

She focused her thoughts and rubbed her thumb and forefinger over the medal of Saint Mary around her throat. (Mary, for penitent women, for strength against sexual temptation. Catalina needed a little of Miss Magdalene on her side.) Then, when she felt she was almost ready, she knocked on the door and waited.