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chanced a look at her in the rearview mirror, as if to insure her reality. Their eyes met and he smiled, still amazed that he was actually bringing her back with him. “Michael’s going to be one surprised, happy little boy when he finds out what I’ve brought back with me.”
    Catherine couldn’t help smiling and finally left his gaze to stare out the window, oblivious to the passing landscape.
    Philip half turned to talk to her. “Sister? Have you been to London before?”
    “I passed through once when I was a child.”
    “Well, Norwood is a small village to the northwest. We should be there before noon.”
    The mention of noon reminded him they hadn’t eaten anything and he was starved. Jeffrey was probably famished too. “Are you hungry, Sister? We can stop some place along the way.”
    “No, thank you, Mr. Norwood. We only eat two meals a day at the convent and I don’t plan to sup before evening.” After she’d explained herself, she realized the men were probably anxious to eat, but were too polite to mention it. They’d been driving all night. “Please stop if there’s something you want. It was thoughtless of us not to offer you food at the convent. It’s just that everything happened so fast.”
    “Please, Sister,” Jeffrey broke in. “We imposed on you, but I have to admit I would like a little something. We’re coming into Chippenham. How about it, Phil?”
    After Philip nodded, he pulled the car over in front of a shop. In a few minutes he’d purchased some meat pies they both devoured with relish.
    Catherine was reminded of the time when her father was still alive. He’d always had a big appetite after coming home from the college where he taught history and mathematics. In a few minutes she felt Commander Norwood’s eyes on her again after he’d started up the car.
    “Michael says you’re part French, Sister.” He spoke casually, as if they were all good friends out in the country for a lazy afternoon drive. Being in the company of men was something she was going to have to get used to. It was inevitable. The Commander wouldn’t be normal if he weren’t curious about her.
    At the convent there was little casual conversation except around the children. If there weren’t a war on, there’d be no children at Our Lord of the Lamb and life would be austere and quiet. To be engaged in conversation with someone like the Commander was no small matter, but she found it stimulating and it eased her nervousness. She presumed it was a release for his pent-up emotions as well, so she tried to react as naturally as possible.
    Jeffrey noticed a far away look in her eyes and wondered if she’d heard his question. “Sister? Are you part French?”
    “Actually my father was Belgian.”
    “And your mother?”
    “English.”
    He smiled. “An interesting combination. Where you were born?”
    “In Bruges.”
    “That explains why you’ve taught Michael so many French songs. I think his pronunciation is quite remarkable for a child.”
    “Michael has a good ear and is an excellent student, even if he’s only five,” she volunteered.
    “Six,” he corected her. “We had a birthday party for him the second day he was home. Needless to say, his great wish before blowing out his candles was that you would come to see him.”
    Catherine closed her eyes. “He loved parties,” she admitted. “There are birthdays almost every day of the year with all the children we house at the convent. It helps to pretend there’s some normalcy in the world. The children play the game much better than do some of the rest of us.”
    Philip eyed Jeffrey. He realized this nun was no backward farm girl. “Michael told us you lost a brother in the war last year, Sister. I’m very sorry.”
    She paused before answering, a bit surprised Michael had revealed so much information to them. “Yes. He lost his life in the trenches.”
    “Don’t you have another brother as well?”
    “Yes. He died of a liver ailment