Whispers of Ambition

Jane waited patiently in front of the airport exit. Her flight had arrived a little earlier than expected, so she assumed that her father might have been delayed, but the person who came to collect her was someone holding a little sign with her name on it.

- Sorry for the delay, Miss Donovan. - The Asian woman in the business suit spoke as she approached. - I looked for you inside, but you had already left

Not just because she was wearing a brooch with the Donovan family emblem on it, Jane also recognised the cautious, overly formal manner in which the servants in her house usually spoke.

Jane smiled as she came closer, trying to make her less tense. Many people had told her from a very young age that she had the smile of an angel.

- Don't worry about it, I left quickly because I wanted to get some air. It wasn not your fault.

The woman's shoulders slowly slumped. She tucked the nameplate she was holding under her arm to introduce herself:

- I am Hazel Smith, I will help you for now. Please, follow me.

Jane obeyed and the two walked together to the silver Mercedes parked a few metres away. Hazel opened the back door for her to get in and put her things in the boot of the car before sitting down in the driver's seat.

New York, the city where she had spent only a few days of her childhood, would now be the place where she would live from now on. Despite being her father's hometown, she had visited the place a few times during the holidays, but after joining the boarding school these visits were no longer possible.

Her father owned an up-and-coming liquor business, and even in a moving car, Jane recognised the affiliated bars and billboard advertisements. It was his dream alone, which he had consolidated without his parents' support and which was now receiving the prestige and attention he had always dreamed of.

Much of his father's success came from his partnerships and contracts, he knew that, but nothing took away his pride in having got where he was without his family's support. With his friends, he toasted and celebrated every contract he closed, bragging about his success while shouting his father's name and demanding that he recognise this victory from the grave.

Jane was surprised to receive a letter from him asking her to return immediately. Joceline's death was still fresh, which led her to think that he wanted her around to keep him company, but the reason explained in the letter was quite different.

Ever since Jane had been enrolled at the church boarding school in Italy, she had thought that her most likely future was to become a fairground girl. She didn't mind this too much, as she had always been more resigned to what happened to her than her older sister.

Even if she had any objections, they wouldn't be heard. She was only a child and her father was still responsible for her and would dictate her future as he saw fit.

In any case, she was dismissed from the convent. Her training to become a nun began just a few months before she had to move back to New York for reasons her father didn't fully clarify, but the passage from the Bible she followed most was the one that commanded honouring father and mother.

Remembering this, Jane also remembered her mother. She didn't have many memories of her, because when her mother disappeared on a trip she was still too young to remember anything, but she vaguely remembered a song that was sung to her while she slept.

Sometimes Jane even wondered if the reason she was sent to study abroad was because her face reminded him of the father of the wife he lost.

Joceline used to send letters to her younger sister every month, since in the convent novices weren't allowed to use technology. She claimed that her father always got strange around their mother's birthday and that he burned all her photos in a fit of rage.

Jane wiped her cheeks as she remembered her sister. Joceline had died just two months before their father had sent the letter to the convent. The weight of regret in her heart for not having been able to see her sister before her death still crushed Jane's chest.

Even though her trips to Italy to see her were more frequent than her father's, the last time the two met was two years before the car accident. Joceline sent several letters saying that she would explain her reasons for not being able to go when the two of them met in person, but she left before such a meeting could take place.

Jane still wondered what her sister wanted to tell her. She wondered if it had anything to do with why she was coming home that day, if it was good news or bad news

The pain of losing someone so important still hurt her. If she had the ability to go back in time and renounce the convent earlier, she would have done it. Guilt and regrets made it difficult to keep smiling whenever she remembered the chocolates Joceline had brought her the last time they met.

The taste was sweet, smooth. It was as if the chocolates were melting on her tongue while her sister waited anxiously to find out if Jane liked the present. Those chocolates would always remind her of Joceline.

Her luminous gaze, her soft voice and her gentle touch, full of comforting care. Missing every little detail that defined her made Jane's crying in the back seat of that car all the more heartbreaking.

As much as she tried to keep her tears down, going home and not being able to find her didn't seem right.

Hazel helped her get around the new house. Jane was so used to sharing a room with other girls that she felt lonely sleeping in such a big room on her own.

It wasn't really her room, it was only temporary, but she knew that when she moved out her new room probably wouldn't be so different. The amount of empty space bothered her, but perhaps it was even a little better for getting around than a small room with two bunk beds shared between four girls. This was by far the most comfortable place she had slept in a long time.

The house was huge, the living room was almost the same size as the convent courtyard and the other rooms were just as big. All the furniture in the house matched, but some rooms had more furniture than others. Jane found a piano, but she knew that neither Joceline nor their father played, so she was intrigued by the instrument.

The table at which Jane ate had eight seats, but only she ate there.

The first few days living alone in such a large place were uncomfortable. She woke up at the time she was used to, made her bed and carried out her prayer routine. When she had nothing else to do, she would walk around the huge mansion trying to memorise the rooms so as not to get lost.

Some places she wasn't allowed to enter, but she managed to trick Hazel into entering Joceline's room when she found it.

The decor was a little different from the rest of the house. The walls were a coral or salmon colour, the bed was large and full of pillows and teddy bears. Several shelves full of books circled the walls and photos were pinned to a board above a table with a purple computer on top.

Assuming that most of the people in the photos were her sister's friends, Jane smiled. Knowing that her older sister was so loved eased the weight of her grief a little. As long as all those people remembered Joceline fondly, Jane was sure she would be in a good place.

Some of the photos she recognised. Joceline had taken them with Jane during some of her visits. It was almost possible to hear the sound of her laughter before pressing the button to eternalise the moment.

Jane wondered how it felt to visit so many places and meet so many people. Looking at the happiness and affection on the faces of so many she had captivated with her radiant aura, she wondered if the friends she had made in France, Japan and even Italy had cried when they heard the news.

At times, Joceline didn't seem to realise how much she was loved. Looking into her eyes, Jane saw so much loneliness that it was hard to comment on as she showed off all those places she had visited.

She used to say that she envied Jane for having found her place in the world, because even though she had visited so many places, she didn't feel like she belonged in any of them.

Smiling with her lips pressed together, Jane took one of the photos out of the frame and watched her sister making a silly face at the camera with a strange statue behind her. If she could, she would tell her sister that she never really found her place in the world either.

She went to the convent at a very young age, didn't have a chance to have her say and, over the years, got used to being in a place where nothing she said really mattered. Even in the face of such devotion and blind faith, Jane had many doubts. Questions like the ones she wanted to ask were not well regarded among those people, so she kept them to herself, but they were questions that still kept her awake at night.

Being forced to pray four rosaries didn't cure her doubts, but it did teach her to stop asking questions that might sound blasphemous. Jane was sure that the God she prayed to was not the same as the others, but she kept her own faith.

Jane didn't want to believe that her sister, even though she had been such a charitable and kind person all her life, would be condemned to eternal damnation just for not believing in any religion. She wanted to believe that people are judged by what they do, not who they believe in.

The girl in that photo deserved an infinite amount of peace in the afterlife. The girl who made so many people's lives better and won the respect and admiration of even the bitterest deserved to have her efforts rewarded.

It wasn't fair to imagine that a few things someone did against what the pages of an old book said could cancel out a lifetime of kindness.

The world became less interesting after her death. No one could fill the space Joceline left in her little sister's heart.

Even though she tried not to think about it, Jane wondered how good people were taken away so early while mean and petty people lived to the full into old age. With every question she asked herself, her faith became a little more fragile.

It was curious how years of faith could be eroded by the loss of a loved one. Some nuns had told her that these moments served to test the truly devout, but the pain Jane felt felt more like torture than a test.

What kind of God tortures his devotees? Shouldn't the omniscient God know the heart of each person who prayed to him? Why did life have to be put on the scales to know its worth?

At that moment, she allowed herself to doubt so that the lump in her throat would fall away. She allowed her happiest memories of her sister to turn blue as she clutched that photo to her chest.

She released every tear of regret, guilt and resentment and let them wet her face as her shoulders shook. She imagined herself living in that house with her sister and sharing moments together in a reality where she hadn't remained at boarding school.

She opened herself up to all the feelings so that they could leave her. She expelled every weakness of hers before they came to define her.

Jane watched her father in silence as he read a piece of paper he was holding. His eyes ran down the lines quickly before he wrote anything down or signed anything and his brow furrowed slightly as he finished each one.

It was almost lunchtime and she wondered if he planned to have at least that meal with her since he had been away all week since she arrived.

He called her into his study, but didn't say a word to her during the five minutes they sat facing each other. She wanted to tell her father that she missed him, but knowing his temper, she knew she would be reprimanded for speaking without permission.

- Didn't you buy her better clothes? - He asked.

Even though he didn't look directly at any of them, they knew he was talking to Hazel just by his tone of voice.

- They're in her wardrobe, sir. She says she finds them very inappropriate and feels uncomfortable wearing them.

It felt like a draft of cold air had just passed through the room when Jeremiah lowered the files he was organising to face his daughter. His eyes travelled over the clothes she was wearing like an x-ray machine, which made her cringe slightly in her chair.

- You will wear what I tell you to from now on. - He said adamantly, turning his attention back to the papers. - Rowan Jansing is coming for lunch tomorrow. Hazel will teach you how to dress properly so that you don't embarrass me.

She nodded and stood up. Jane tried not to get her hopes up about the reunion, but it was still disappointing. So many years without seeing each other and those were the only words she heard from her father; cold, as if she were just one of his subordinates.

Not that she expected him to greet her with a hug and sweet words, that wasn't his style. At least a smile or a simple "it's good to have you back", just enough to remove the impression that she had done something wrong.

His lunch was served in his office, so again, Jane ate alone. There was nothing wrong with the food in front of her, but it tasted different. Nothing in the beef on the bone she was eating justified the bitter taste in her mouth.

She felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on her, as if the air was escaping from her lungs. She covered her mouth when a strange, slightly high-pitched noise, almost a sob, escaped her throat.

Somehow, she forgot how her father used to look at her. She forgot how disappointing she felt no matter what she did. She didn't remember how much it hurt not to have his approval.

The chair made a clattering noise that echoed around the room when she stood up. Her food remained practically untouched on her plate when she left the table. The lump in her throat prevented her from swallowing any more.

She passed Hazel on her way to her room, but couldn't understand what she said. Her hands were still shaking when she sat on the bed with them resting on her knees.

With her eyes closed, she took a deep breath, counting three seconds as she inhaled and three seconds as she exhaled, just as her roommate had once taught her to do. Anxiety weighed heavily on her back, but she held herself upright, slowly trying to regain the air she lacked.

Her father had brought her back for the sole purpose of fulfilling the agreement made between him and the late Conrad Jansing, and she couldn't afford to be shaken by a few simple criticisms. She had to be strong for Joceline.

Now feeling calmer, Jane stood up and faced the mirror. The skirt she was wearing was knee-length and her long-sleeved blouse seemed appropriate for the season. She had never felt so ugly wearing that kind of outfit before, but at that moment it was like seeing a stranger in the place of her reflection.

Jane never cut her hair like her sister used to, so when she loosened her ponytail, it flowed over her shoulders like running water down to her navel. Her hair was light brown and straight, only the place where her hair elastic held it made a small curl at the level of her ears.

Her eyes were also brown. Her chin was thin and she had a slightly snub nose. She didn't used to care much about her appearance while she was in the convent, but so many things had changed since she returned to New York that if it became a habit she wouldn't find it completely unfounded.

She was already tired of knowing that vanity is a sin, so her time in front of the mirror was limited. Girls weren't encouraged to dress up any more than they had to, so Jane didn't even know how to apply lipstick.

Joceline was always tidy, made up and perfumed when they saw each other. She tried a few times to teach her sister to put on make-up, but Jane refused. She saw no need to change what was already naturally perfect at the time.

Before, when her routine was as simple as her life, she didn't have to worry about such superficialities. With the change in circumstances, Jane had to alter many of her habits and learn countless new activities.

She would need to get used to high heels, short, tight dresses and perhaps she would need to let go of every single thing that had defined her for so long and replace it with new things. Many things needed to change, but perhaps that didn't have to mean that she would become a different person in essence.

Perhaps, even through so many different things, she could still keep a bit of herself. Perhaps she would find a new way of being herself in her new life.