"Three, going on four," the nun replied. "You were brought to me late Friday afternoon. This is Tuesday morning. You have been my only patient for the past week. Sometimes it gets slow around here. But I expect business will pick up in a couple of weeks when the next rash of colds goes around."

Sister Solange shifted the stack of fresh towels in her lap.

"Aren't you embarrassed, Sister?" Vivi asked. "I mean, with me naked?"

"For heaven's sake," Sister Solange said, rolling back the sleeves of her habit. "Why should I be embarrassed?! I am a nurse, Viviane Joan. I have seen people's naked bodies-boys, girls, men, women of all shapes-all of them God's creatures. The soul needs the body. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

Vivi closed her eyes again. This nun was not what Vivi had expected.

"Besides," Sister Solange said, "I come from a family of five sisters. We always bathed together when I was young."

"Five?" Vivi asked. "I only have one sister. She's really little. But I have three best friends. They're like my sisters."

"I bet you have a lot of friends, Viviane," Sister Solange said, standing. "It's probably best if you don't stay in there too terribly long. You don't want to end up a stewed prune. Besides, you're still weak. Want to climb out now?"

"I'm fine to get out by myself," Vivi said. She was not too thrilled at the thought of anyone, even a nun, seeing her body at this point. She was embarrassed at how skinny she was.

"No, Viviane Joan," Sister Solange said, firm. "I am responsible for you. You will let me help you."

Giving up, Vivi allowed Sister Solange to help her out of the tub. Steadying her, the nun helped Vivi pat herself dry, and soon Vivi was dressed in a plain, clean gown.

Exhausted, she slept for the rest of the day, waking only when the nun brought her a bit of rice and vegetables for supper. Vivi ate a small portion of it, and then ate an apple in large bites, rather than her customary small slivers.

That night she dreamed she saw her mother's face. Buggy was leaning close enough for Vivi to touch her cheek, but Buggy did not see Vivi. She looked straight past her daughter like she was searching for something she had lost.

"Mama!" Vivi called out in her sleep. "It's me, Mama! Look! Mama!"

Vivi twisted in the sheets, sweating and crying. Trembling, her body jerked sharply when Sister Solange turned on the light, but she was still not fully awake. The nun wore a white cotton gown and her head was unveiled. Her hair, closely cropped and blonde, resembled a scruffy canary, and she had about her an unselfconscious beauty and grace.

"Viviane Joan," she said, putting her hand on the girl's forehead. "Blessed child."

The words were spoken with great compassion, and they helped Vivi wake from the nightmare. But it was her mother's voice she wanted, no one else's.

"What is troubling you?" the nun whispered.

"I want to go home," Vivi said. "I want my mother."

The next afternoon, Vivi woke from a nap to hear Mother Superior's voice. She opened her eyes and began counting the strips of light that fell through the shutters that she had opened slightly. It was around noon, she could tell by the quality of light.

A short while later, Sister Solange helped Vivi get out of bed and get dressed. She slipped a lavender sachet into Vivi's hand and curled her hand over Vivi's when she said goodbye. She did not want to let her go.

Sister Solange has taken a vow of obedience, Vivi told herself. That is why she is doing this. That is why she is seeing me to the door, that is why she is making me leave her.

At Mother Superior's instruction, Vivi went immediately back to her classes that afternoon. Afterward, she skipped supper and lay on the bed in her dorm room. She held the sachet in her hand. The halls were quiet, with the other girls away at supper. Vivi felt like she was on a huge ship, alone.

After she slipped out of her gray wool school uniform, Vivi took down her blue velvet gown from the wall. She longed for a mirror, but there were none at Saint Augustine's. Reaching into her trunk, she lifted out the silver compact, a gift from Genevieve before she left. A single rose was engraved on the lid, and inside the powder smelled sweet, like Genevieve's dressing room. Opening the compact, Vivi looked at her face. She studied her eyes, her nose, her mouth. She longed to see her whole body reflected. She pulled the straight-back chair on top of the cot. Holding her dress, she climbed up onto the chair in front of the high window. Darkness had fallen, and with the light on in her room, Vivi could see her naked body mirrored in the windowpane. She pulled the dress over her head. Strapless, with tiny hooks that fastened up the side, the dress was now far too big for Vivi's emaciated body.

Jack could not keep his hands off me in this dress, she thought. He would rub the velvet lightly when we danced; his tender touch made me shiver with excitement.

Letting the dress fall, Vivi looked at her breasts reflected in the window. She cupped her hands under her bosoms. Then she dropped her hands to her sides and stared at her own image until the room started spinning.

Climbing down carefully from the chair, Vivi put it back in its place, and turned off the light. Then she opened the windows wide, and lay down on top of the wool blanket that covered the cot. It scratched her back. She could feel her eye sockets burning. She wished she had some bourbon. Soon she fell into a deep sleep.

She dreamed of Jack lying next to her on a pink-and-white checkered blanket at Spring Creek. They were holding hands, staring into a bonfire. In the dream, she was achingly hungry for the kind of food they usually cooked out at the creek. Suddenly the flames of the bonfire leapt toward the two of them. Flames hot and furious, ready to devour them. When she reached for Jack, he was already on fire.

She woke screaming, the smell of burning fabric assaulting her nostrils. It took a moment before she realized the flames at the foot of her bed were real. Her midnight-blue velvet dress was on fire and the flames had leapt to the sheets.

Vivi flew from the bed, careening in dizziness and fear. She clutched Delia's pillow tightly to her chest, but her feet felt shackled to the floor. She could not make herself move. As the fire crept further up the bedclothes, Vivi could not take her eyes off her party dress, now being released from its solid material into air. She watched the flames in horror, but the warmth felt good against her naked body. She felt like she was witnessing a demonic, lovely ballet.

Although she didn't see or hear anyone in the room with her, it felt like a pair of strong hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her out of the room. The next thing she knew, she was standing alone in the cold, dark hallway, naked. The door to the burning bed was closed. She heard the sound of feet running down the hall and a door slamming. She heard her own breathing.

She began to scream, and she did not stop. Not when the other students ran into the hall to see what was wrong. Not when a flock of nuns arrived in a panic. Not after the fire was put out. Not when Mother Superior threw a blanket over Vivi's bare body, saying, "Cover your naked self!"

They have incinerated my birthday dress, Vivi thought. They want to burn me alive.

Jerking Vivi by the arm, Mother Superior shoved her into her office. Once inside, she took Vivi by the shoulders and shook her. The wool blanket scratched Vivi's skin. Every part of her body itched.

"Stop shrieking this moment," Mother Superior said. "Get control of yourself, Joan."

Terrified, Mother Superior slapped Vivi across the face. She was determined to get the girl under control in the only way she knew how.

But Vivi could not stop screaming.

Sister Solange arrived in Mother Superior's office without her veil, her hooded cloak hastily thrown over her nightgown. Ignoring her superior's frown, she crossed to Vivi and took the girl in her arms.

"You must see to this student," Mother Superior said, the light from the desk lamp reflecting in her glasses. "The girl is seriously disturbed."

Behind Mother Superior's desk was a painting of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, bleeding. A crucifix hung to the right. Under the crucifix was the phrase "The Immaculate Victim."

"Of course she's upset, Mother!" Sister Solange said. "Her bed was set on fire with her in it."

Mother Superior rubbed her fingers against the rosary beads that hung at her waist. "Joan could have set the fire herself. We will have to look into it."

Vivi half heard their conversation. She had stopped screaming and now could only shake. Nuns came and went out of the room, but she could not follow it all. There was discussion about calling in Father O'Donagan, the priest who came to say Mass and hear confessions at the academy.

"Mother," Sister Solange said, "do you think it might be prudent to call her parents?"

"I do not think it wise to worry her parents about this," Mother Superior said. "This is better handled here at Saint Augustine's."

"With all respect," Sister Solange said, "as a nurse, I think it advisable to contact her family. Viviane Joan has been ill, and the shock of the fire may have her more troubled than we realize."

"Sister Solange," Mother Superior said, "I have made up my mind. Her parents will not be called."

"Yes, Mother," Sister Solange said, looking from Vivi to the image of the Bleeding Heart, then down at the floor. Her vow of obedience was a sacred one.

Sister Solange said, "Perhaps Mother might agree to letting Vivi spend the night in the infirmary so that I might observe her medically."

Mother Superior crossed back behind her desk, folding her hands into the sleeves of her gown. "It is agreed. You may have the girl tonight."

Then, raising the small crucifix of her rosary, Mother Superior kissed it. "Now, we have all had quite enough excitement for one night. It is time to return to bed. Pray, sisters, for the soul of this daughter of Mary."

They only pray for your soul around here, Vivi thought. Your body could burn up, for all they care.

At the infirmary, Sister Solange dressed Vivi in a long oversized flannel gown. The sleeves were full and poufy and sat like clouds over her skinny arms. She arranged a cotton throw over Vivi's shoulders, and placed a hot water bottle at her feet and one in her lap. Together, they sat in the small infirmary office, their chairs almost touching. A vase of roses sat on the desk, and to either side there were glass-fronted cabinets containing various pills and tonics.

On the desk, the nun had placed a cup of tea and a small plate of ginger cookies. She observed Vivi closely. "Please have some, Viviane Joan."

When Vivi raised the cup to her mouth, her hands shook so that she spilled tea onto her gown. She did not seem to notice. She stared at a few tiny yellow-gold chamomile flowers that floated in the cup.

After Vivi took a sip, Sister Solange said, "Good, now have a cookie, please."

Sister watched Vivi as she stared at the cookie without taking a bite. "Now you must talk to me, Viviane."

Hearing her true name caught Vivi the way sun unexpectedly glinting off a buckle or a piece of tinfoil might catch the eye. She looked at the nun, unsure.

"What name do they call you at home?" Sister Solange asked.

Vivi thought the nun looked tired. She stared at the nun's blonde hair, and looked down at Sister's hands. The nun was squeezing her fingers tightly together and then releasing them. When Sister saw Vivi notice this, she folded her hands underneath her cloak.

"At home," Vivi said, "at home they call me Vivi."

"Vivi," Sister Solange repeated, "what a lively name."

The nun lowered her head for a moment, in prayer or deliberation. When she lifted it, her eyes looked even more tired. "Vivi, I want you to try to pay attention to what I'm saying, please."

Vivi was listening to the tones of Sister Solange's voice. It was a mossy, quiet sound, the perfect green-blue.

The nun took Vivi's hands in hers. She watched Vivi closely.

"Vivi?" Sister Solange said. "Squeeze my hand."

Vivi looked up at Sister Solange, but she did not appear to have heard her. She began to shake violently. The nun took the teacup from the girl's hands. She did not want Vivi to hurt herself.

Sister Solange stood, took out a key from her desk, and opened one of the cabinets against the wall. She chose a bottle of tablets and shook two of them into her palm.

"Will you swallow these, please, Vivi?" she said. She had wondered earlier if the girl needed something stronger than tea to help her shock, but she dared not suggest it to Mother Superior. But Vivi was in her office now.

Vivi swallowed the pills as she was told. The nun knelt back down at Vivi's side. "Vivi," she said softly, "tell me who I can call at home to come and help you."

At first Vivi thought she might have dreamed the words. So many times in the past four months she had imagined someone saying these very words to her. She studied the nun's face. Was this some kind of trick? Was she about to be trapped and then punished?

Sister Solange waited patiently for a response. Slowly she lifted her hand and placed her palm tenderly against Vivi's cheek. "Vivi, dear, tell me who to call."

The touch of Sister Solange's hand against her skin revived Vivi.

"Call Genevieve Whitman at Highland 4270 in Thornton, Louisiana," she said. "Don't talk to Mr. Whitman, only talk to Genevieve."

"Is she a relative?" the nun asked.

Terrified that the nun might not call, Vivi lied and said, "Yes, she is my godmother."

"Thank you, Vivi," the nun said. "You are a dear girl, a blessed girl."

Vivi slept again that night in her old infirmary bed. She dreamed that she and Teensy and Jack were sitting on the sea wall at Biloxi, the sun caressing their faces.

The next day, Sister Solange helped Vivi dress in an outfit that she scrounged together with bits and pieces from the Lost and Found. The ensemble was mismatched, ugly, and scratchy, and the nun apologized as she handed the items to Vivi. "These garments are those of a match girl," she said, laughing, "not a tennis player."

Vivi buttoned an off-white blouse with stains under the arms. Over that she pulled a nondescript brown jumper that hung loosely on her thin frame. Wool socks and a pair of uniform oxfords were on her feet.

"How did you know I was a tennis player?" Vivi asked Sister Solange.

"Oh," the nun said, "you spoke of tennis many times in your sleep. Tennis and someone named Jack Ya-Ya."

Vivi gave a tentative laugh that turned into a cough.

"Anyway," Sister Solange said, "there is no reason for such a pretty girl to look like a penitent. But this clothing is the best I can do."

"What about my own clothes?" Vivi asked.

The nun bit her lip before she spoke. "Vivi, they are all too damaged."

"All of them?" Vivi asked.

"Yes," the nun said. "What wasn't burned was ruined by smoke."

"Except my pillow," Vivi said.

"Except your pillow," Sister Solange replied. "Your pillow survived, and so will you."

The sight of Genevieve and Teensy standing in Mother Superior's office was almost more than Vivi could bear. She longed to run to them, to hold them and smell them, to soak in all of the life that they carried. But she could not make herself take a step forward. She stood frozen, clutching Delia's feather pillow in her hand, looking far younger than her sixteen years.

Rushing to her side, Teensy and Genevieve enveloped Vivi in hugs. The suddenness of it disoriented Vivi, and she could not respond. She felt as though they were onlookers and she was a wreck on the side of the road.

"Mrs. Whitman," Mother Superior said, "I cannot release this child to you. You are not her mother."

"You are not her mother either, cher," Genevieve shot back.

"Do not speak to me in disrespect," the nun said.

"Cher is not a sign of disrespect," Genevieve said, changing her tone so that she might charm the nun. "It's French for 'dear.' "

"Then do not call me 'dear,' " Mother Superior said.

Leaving Vivi's side, Genevieve stepped in closer to Mother Superior's desk. Teensy gave Vivi's hand a squeeze, then let it go as she stepped close to her maman.

The light coming in through the windows seemed extraordinarily bright to Vivi. From where she stood, she could see Genevieve's Packard parked outside near the curb. The car seemed like a car in a dream, and Vivi thought that at any moment it might shift shape into a boat or a bird.