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probably won’t get in.” She laughed, and the sound of it made me want to weep with thanks. “I forgot my phone charger at home, and I had to wait until Mom bought me a new one. I’m sorry.”

I could practically hear her bottom lip between her teeth. I could picture her picking at her sleeves, timid and sneaking in a dark hotel room.

We didn’t talk about before, but we spoke for nearly an hour. I knew eventually we would need to, but just hearing her voice was more than I could have asked for.
    She called me every night for the remaining six days of her trip. The conversations were light, kept to the day’s events, and even though I longed to hear about more than shuttle bus rides and campus radio stations, and to tell her about more than the weather and lesson plans, it was enough to know she was safe and wanted to hear my voice before she lay down for sleep.
    Lacie was finally due back at school the next day, and I was awake before my alarm sounded. I was up before the sun, my heart singing joy through my veins. I didn’t know when we’d be granted time together, but she would be here.
    Only, she wasn’t.
    Not at first.
    I passed by Sister Bernice’s English class after first period with a stack of flyers the soccer team didn’t really need this early, but served as an excuse for me to see her. As my hopeful eyes scanned the classroom though, my hazel-eyed miracle was nowhere to be found. Her seat was empty, no white peacoat hanging over the back, no open notebook to indicate she was nearby.
    Pierced with disappointment and confusion, I returned to my office and paced. I shuffled papers and made a cup of tea I forgot to drink.
    Lacie.
    My Lacie, long-away and long-awaited.
    Where was she?
    When the bell rang, signaling the move to second period, I picked up my folders for Freshman Religion and dragged myself to the hall, dreading the slow pace of the day. Maybe she’d stayed home to rest after her trip, I thought, but it did little for my discouraged hopes.
    And then, the sun rose.
    Splendid and safe, radiant and real, my love was walking with her friends. She smiled as they talked and carried her notebook close to her chest. Long dark hair hung in a neat braid over the Saint Casilda’s Academy for Girls insignia, and the grey uniform sweater that clung to her had never looked so soft.
    She looked up just in time to catch my eyes as I passed, and there were steps of space between us, but after so long apart—after the last time I’d seen her and she’d tried so hard to smile—the effortless curve of her lips and the gladness in her eyes lit me from within.
    It was just like that, like stepping into sunlight.
    “Salve, Father Marc,” she singsonged as she passed with her friends.
    Good morning.

I contained my elation in a smile that was all hers.
    “Good morning, ladies,” I returned, nodding.

Just like phone calls that were kept light, it was more than enough.

I was far too thankful to be impatient.

Freshman Religion and the advanced Latin class afterward passed easily. I looked forward to our tutoring session at her house tomorrow afternoon, and mass Wednesday morning, and every chance I could think of seeing her again.
    Standing from my bed, I cross my humble room to my window once more and stare out into the dimly lit garden of Dutch crocus and bloodroot. Early Stars of Bethlehem glow in the moonlight, decorating the dark with little yellow blooms.
    After my final class of the day was finished, I returned here with exams to grade for what I thought would be my first truly restful night in ten days’ time. I was halfway through them when my phone rang.
    It was Lacie’s father, and I leaned back in my chair as I answered, curious.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Theodore. How are you?”

“Afternoon, Father Marc. I’m well, I’m well. I have your field day order ready and was hoping you could come by and pick it up from the house around dinnertime? I could use a hand lifting some