Even in the gathering gloom, Joseph saw a flush in her cheeks—pleasure at her father’s compliment but embarrassment that she’d just called herself beautiful. It was nothing less than the truth.
How different her hair looked by firelight. In full sun, the strands shone like the brass of his thurible. Now, their color was darker and deeper, like the fragrant myrrh he burned within. Her halo of braids was looser as well, her long tresses barely contained, so he could better estimate their full glory. Unbound, they might cascade to the floor.
He must look somewhere else. Joseph’s gaze landed on the books lined up along the mantle. Some were law tomes, but many of the volumes must belong to her. “I know you share your father’s love of books. You said you have some teaching experience as well?”
“Oh, yes!” She stopped stitching. “Do you know of a position?”
“I’m afraid we can’t pay you very much, but we do need another catechist. I was thinking: once you become acquainted with the parish’s children and their parents, it might lead to other things—perhaps a position as a governess.”
“It might. Thank you, Father.”
He would do anything to inspire such a smile. “When the weather’s mild, if you can bring your sewing work with you, you’rewelcome to sit in the Biblical garden afterward. The light must be better.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“On the contrary.”
Joseph was both disappointed and grateful when Miss Conley returned her eyes to her sewing. “I had a letter from my mother this morning. My eldest sister-in-law has been safely delivered of her tenth child. They named her after Our Lady.”
“I imagine your parents chose your Christian name to honor Saint Teresa of Ávila?”
Miss Conley nodded. “I was born on her feast day.”
“Have you read any of her writings?”
“I have. For my Confirmation, I asked for an English translation of herLife. It took my father almost a year to procure it, but finally he did.” She looked up to the last book on the mantle and smiled.
Joseph read the spine with its antiquated spelling:The Flaming Hart, or, The Life of the Gloriovs S. Teresa.
“That copy is nearly two hundred years old! I cannot understand why, but Saint Teresa seems to have fallen out of favor.”
“You’ve not read her other works, then? I think my set is from the seventeenth century as well.”
“You own the set?” Miss Conley gasped, abandoning her work on her lap. “Might I see the other volumes?”
“You may borrow them, for as long as you like.”
“Oh, thank you, Father!”
Joseph was becoming very warm by the fire. He stood and moved to the window.
Though she remained seated, Miss Conley turned in her chair. “Isn’t Teresa extraordinary?”
“She certainly is.” Joseph tried to stare into the alley; he tried to keep himself detached. He was not successful.
“I realize I’m prejudiced, but I think she is truly unique. She’s so honest, so human, even humorous—but also so utterly holy that she leaves me in awe. Her yearning for union with God is palpable, there on the page. The way she writes about Christ, as if He is herdearest friend…” At last Miss Conley lowered her eyes. “Yet she never forgets His divinity or her unworthiness.”
“We are all of us unworthy. But I think she must be precious to Him, too.” Joseph decided that if he stayed at the window, it was safe to admire her. “There’s a chapel devoted to Saint Teresa in Rome. In the vault above it is an inscription from one of her visions, one I don’t think she mentions in herLife. Christ said to her:Nisi coelum creassem ob te solam crearem.” Joseph waited to see if Miss Conley understood.
She wrestled visibly with the Latin, furrowing her brow and catching her lower lip between her teeth. Finally she shook her head. “Something about creating Heaven…”
“‘If I had not already created Heaven, I would create it for you alone.’ Teresa insisted Christ meant that for all of mankind…but He said it to her.”
She held his eyes for one long moment in the firelight, before her brother entered the room.
CHAPTER 22
When I returned to Charleston from Hayti, the dogs that were set to guard against negroes began to bark at me, though previously they had allowed me to pass.
