Bobbi Smith (17 page)
Authors: Heaven
“All right,” he began, feeling rather self-conscious to be talking out loud, but figuring he was pretty safe since there was no one around. He’d been alone in the chapel for some time, and he knelt now as he began to speak in earnest. “Look, God, I know I haven’t always been as good as I could have.” He paused, thinking he’d phrased that rather well. “But right now, I could really use your help.”
He waited. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but a crack of thunder and the voice of God telling him what to do next would have been deeply appreciated. Whatever he’d hoped for, he didn’t get it. After a moment of total silence, he started up again.
“I’m not asking this for myself. You know I’m here for all the right reasons. But I could sure use a little support from you tonight. I’m supposed to be protecting Alex. I’m supposed to be keeping her safe. If Matt and Alex get a room of their own while we’re here . . .”
He stopped and waited again. This time in his mind the thought flashed—
Thou shall not bear false witness.
He grimaced and felt the bite of his priestly collar.
Thou shall not bear false witness.
He grimaced and felt the bite of his priestly collar.
“I know, I know, but I did it all for a good cause,” he pleaded his case.
Silence.
“Well, God, if you’ve got any suggestions about how I can get out of this without anyone getting hurt, I’d appreciate hearing them.”
He realized then that this had to be one of those notorious ‘gray’ areas. If you stayed with black and white to begin with, you didn’t get into the gray area, but once you were there, things definitely became complicated. He couldn’t tell the truth now, because it might ruin their search for the crown.
He sat there a little longer, hoping against hope that the mother superior didn’t have a room for a married couple.
Alex went back inside and sought out the mother superior in her office. She knocked on the door and when Reverend Mother called out for her to enter, she did.
“Could I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course, Mrs. McKittrick. Come in.”
“Thank you, and please, call me Alex.” She sat in the chair before her desk. “I was just in the cemetery and I met a woman there . . . a Mrs. Andrews.”
“Ah, so you’ve met Eleanor.” Her expression saddened and there was a catch of emotion in her voice.
“You know her?”
“Yes, we know her.”
“Why is she so unhappy? Why is she so alone? I know her husband and son are dead, but doesn’t she have any other family?”
The Reverend Mother saw Alex’s real concern, and explained, “No, I’m afraid not, and it’s a very tragic story. Her only son, Steven, and her husband were stricken by cholera during the epidemic some years ago. The son was only thirteen when he died, and her husband passed away just a few days later.”
“But they’ve been dead so long, and yet she still comes here every day.”
“Love knows nothing of time.”
“She’s so incredibly sad and lonely. Doesn’t anyone care about her?”
“We do. In the years since their deaths, I’ve been to her home many times, trying to bring her back to us, but she has always refused my calls. She has a servant tell me she isn’t at home.”
“Why does she treat you that way? What happened?” Alex was at a loss to understand someone who would turn away from her religion just when she needed it most.
“The night Steven was dying, Eleanor sent her husband to find Father O’Malley. She was certain if Father came and prayed over Steven, the boy would live.”
“Couldn’t he find the priest?”
“Oh, yes, he found Father O’Malley, and therein lies the problem. Father was with another family whose children were dying. He promised Jonathan he would come as soon as he could, but by the time he arrived, it was too late. Steven was already gone.”
“Oh . . . That’s terrible . . .” Alex could only imagine the horror of watching your only child die and being helpless to stop it.
“It was a terrible time for the whole city. Father tried to comfort Eleanor and Jonathan, but they held him responsible. Then, when Jonathan took sick a short time later, Eleanor turned completely against the church. She insisted on funeral masses for them, but after that, she never came back. I’ve been praying daily for her return to us. Father O’Malley died last year, and all he wanted on his deathbed was Eleanor’s forgiveness and understanding. Unfortunately, it was never to be. She wouldn’t talk to me or to any of the other sisters when we went to her and asked for her help.” Reverend Mother sighed. “My heart goes out to her. I understand her pain and her anger, but I will never give up hope that one day I’ll be able to reach her.”
“Someone has to help her.”
“We wish we could, but right now she won’t let us. Her heart must change if we’re going to reach her.”
“There must be something we can do . . .”
“God does work in mysterious ways, and maybe one day someone or something will change her and bring her back to us.” Her knowing gaze rested upon Alex. She saw the goodness and the compassion within her, and she wondered if she just might be the one who could work the miracle.
“Thank you for telling me all of this, Reverend Mother,” Alex said as she rose and left the room, her heart heavy with the knowledge of the old woman’s suffering. She understood now the look of complete estrangement she had seen in Eleanor Andrews’ eyes.
Alex wandered back out into the gardens and picked a bouquet of bright flowers. She went to the grave and laid the flowers there, where Eleanor would see them.
Alex remained in the graveyard a little longer, studying the stones. She was unaware that the mother superior was watching her from the window.
Nine
“Father Bradford, would you say grace for us?” Reverend Mother asked as they gathered for dinner that evening.
“I’d be honored, Reverend Mother,” Winn answered with a smile that hid his uncertainty. He’d made it a point to avoid the good sisters as much as possible all day for fear that they would see through his disguise. Now, forced into open prayer with no avenue for escape, he hoped his performance would be convincing.
“Let us pray. Bless us, O Lord, for these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ, Our Lord. Amen,” he intoned with all due respect and solemnity. He had to admit it sounded a lot better than some of the outrageous prayers he’d offered up as an undisciplined youth.
Everyone murmured a quiet, ‘Amen,’ and then settled in to partake of the sparse, yet tasty fare. At their easy acceptance of his blessing, Winn drew a deep, relieved breath.
When dinner was over, the nuns went off to their evening prayers. The mother superior, however, remained behind to speak to Alex, Winn, and Matt.
“I’ve had a room prepared for you,” she told them graciously. “We have only a single room available, so, if you have no objection, I’ve arranged for Mrs. McKittrick to share a room with one of the sisters. I hope that won’t inconvenience you.”
Matt smiled charmingly at the older woman. “I’ll miss having my wife by my side, but I understand. We appreciate your hospitality.”
She graced him with a smile of her own. “That is what marriage is about. Having one’s life companion with you, always supporting and helping you.”
“Matt and I have a wonderful relationship. We understand the importance of our vows, and we try to live them every day,” Alex put in sweetly, as she met the mother superior’s gentle regard.
“Bless you both. It’s wonderful to see a couple so happy and so in love. Don’t you agree, Father Bradford?”
“Most assuredly, Reverend Mother,” Winn replied. The smile he gave her was genuine; Alex was to be removed from harm’s way, and through no efforts of his own. As he cast a glance heavenward, he thought that, perhaps, there really was something to this praying. He offered up an unspoken thank you.
“I bid you good night then. One of the sisters will be here in a moment to show you gentlemen to your room,” she explained. “Alex, if you’ll come with me?”
Alex went to Matt and kissed his cheek. She bid both of them good night before following the mother superior from the room.
Shortly after they’d gone, another sister appeared to guide Matt and Winn to their room. It was at the other end of the building, far away from the women. The farther they walked, the bigger Winn’s smile became.
After the nun left them, Matt chuckled out loud and drew a strange look from Winn.
“A little relieved, are you, Father?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Only to me,” he said with a wide grin. “What would you have done if Alex and I had been given a room to ourselves?”
“Pray,” he growled, and his answer drew another chortle of amusement from Matt as they retired for the night.
The following morning, Alex was up at dawn with the sisters. A bell tolled, calling them to morning prayer. Alex dressed quickly for she wanted to join them in the chapel. As they made their way through the halls, they passed a large bank of windows that faced the cemetery and she caught a glimpse of someone already in the graveyard. Alex fell out of the line to get a better look, and there in the distance was Eleanor, dressed in black, already on her way to begin her vigil at her son’s and husband’s graves.
Alex’s good intention to accompany the sisters to the chapel faded as she watched the old lady move slowly through the cemetery. Alex had felt such a kinship to her last night that she knew she had to speak to her again. Slipping away from the convent, she hurried out to see her.
Eleanor was kneeling before the grave speaking to her son and husband in a low, almost inaudible voice. She sensed someone coming, and she looked up as the younger woman neared.
“You put the flowers here.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.
“Yes, I did.”
“Thank you. They’re lovely.”
“They’re for you. I wanted you to have them.”
Eleanor stared at this pretty stranger, trying to see into her soul. She didn’t understand why was she taking the time to bother with her. Eleanor’s pain was so great that she’d long ago ceased to feel anything else. This simple gift, however, had touched her in a way she couldn’t begin to describe.
“This is the first time in years anyone has done anything like that for me.”
“I’m glad you like them.” Alex touched her shoulder with a gentle hand and saw the first flicker of a different emotion in her gaze, something other than sadness. It made her smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Alex returned to the convent, turning back only once to wave before she disappeared inside.
Eleanor watched her go. When Alex waved, she didn’t wave back, but kept watch until she was safely inside. As she moved out of sight, Eleanor felt a warm tugging at her battered heart, and the feeling frightened her. She didn’t want to care about anyone. She didn’t want to feel anything. The black numbness that surrounded her protected her, and she couldn’t risk losing her last defense against the total devastation of reality.
Eleanor glanced up in the direction the young woman had gone, and wondered why she suddenly felt like crying.
Matt had been biding his time, searching around the convent and surrounding buildings for some hint of what they were supposed to do next. His search left him empty-handed, though, and he was growing impatient. Nothing made sense. He wanted to get on with the hunt for the crown, yet he was stymied. He was in the hall near the chapel when an elderly sister, who’d been introduced to him earlier as Sister Agnes, approached.
“Mr. McKittrick?”
“Matt, please, Sister.”
“Matt.” She said his name thoughtfully, thinking how wondrously young and strong he was. “Are you going to be with us long?”
“Only another day or two,” he answered.
“Pity.”
“Why? Did you need something?”
“No, no. I realize how busy you must be.”
“If you need my help, I’ll be glad to do what I can, Sister.”
“Well, now that you mention it,” she began, smiling up at him. “I could use the help of a strong man. Could you spare me a few minutes?”
Sister Agnes was short, barely topping five feet. Matt could only guess at her age, speculating that she was every bit of sixty. Old or not, her blue eyes were clear and intelligent, full of mirth and unquestioning love, and Matt was drawn to her. When she’d smiled at him, he’d been lost, for she had a smile that could light up an entire room. “Surely, Sister Agnes,” he agreed without another thought.
As she led him down the hall in a different direction, she began to explain, “I’m working with several of the other sisters, helping a poor family that lives not too far from here. Do you have time to help us this afternoon?”
With neither Winn nor Alex anywhere in sight, he decided to do what he could for the sweet nun. “Of course, Sister Agnes. Just lead the way. I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“Thank you, Matthew.”
He was tempted to correct her, to tell her his friends called him Matt, but somehow Matthew sounded right coming from her.
As they made their way through the streets, Matt was impressed by the number of people who called out happy greetings to the nun. She had a kind word for everyone and introduced Matt proudly as her friend. As they rounded one corner, a group of unkempt, dirty children came charging toward them.
“Sister Agnes! Sister Agnes!” they cried, surrounding her and practically fighting each other for the chance to give her a hug.
Matt stood back and looked on as she took the time to hug each child in return and ask them about their families and their activities. Just watching her touched his heart. He fought down thoughts of his own lonely childhood. When at last she was ready to move on, he returned to her side.
“They certainly love you,” Matt remarked a bit bewildered by her outpouring of love and kindness.
She cast him a sidelong glance. “That’s because I love them,” she told him simply.
They moved on to a small house that was little more than a shack.
“This is it,” she said as she paused for a moment before the abode so he could understand the poverty of the family who lived there. “Come and meet Mrs. Hawkins.”
Sister Agnes drew him inside with her. “Matthew, this is Deborah Hawkins. Deborah, this is Matthew. He’s come to help us.”
Deborah Hawkins had been pretty once, but there was a great weariness about her now. She was heavy with child, and two other children, little more than babes themselves, were playing on the floor at her feet. For all that the family was desperately poor, the house was well-kept, and the children were neat and clean.
“Hello, Mrs. Hawkins,” Matt said.
Sister Agnes led him back outside. “Her husband was killed just a little over a month ago in an accident on the riverfront. She’s all alone with no family to help her. We’re doing her as much as we can, but our funds are limited. The other sisters and I have been bringing food, and trying to get her house repaired before the new baby comes. A doctor friend has agreed to help her with the baby, so it’s just a matter of seeing that she’s as safe and comfortable as possible and making sure that she has enough so she can feed her children.”
“I’ll be glad to help however I can,” Matt offered, touched by her generosity and caring. “What would you like me to do?”
Sister Agnes had been hoping for just such a willingness from him, and within minutes she had him painting the outside of the house with paint she’d gotten as a donation from the owner of a mercantile. Once she was certain he was working without any problems, she returned to the convent to see to some other business. It was there that she found Father Bradford, looking for Matt.
“I know just where he is. If you’ll come along with me, I’ll take you to him.”
As they neared the Hawkins home, Winn saw Matt, his shirt open in the afternoon heat, busily painting the rundown house. Another sister was supervising his efforts. Winn fought down a grin as he approached his friend.
“I see you’re busy,” Winn remarked, watching Matt wield the paintbrush with reasonable skill.
“Yes, and I could use a little help here, Father,” Matt said over his shoulder without missing a stroke. “Grab a brush and pitch in. There’s more than enough work for two able-bodied men.”
It was an offer Winn couldn’t refuse. He shed his coat and collar and started to paint in his dark clothes, but Deborah Hawkins quickly came out to talk to him.
“I appreciate your help, Father, but wouldn’t you want some different clothes? I’d hate to think that you ruined your suit helping me.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any work clothes with me.”
“I still have some of my husband’s things. You’re about his size, and you’re welcome to them.”
The idea of being freed from the constraints of his ‘priesthood,’ if only for a little while, was liberating to Winn. He struggled not to sound too eager in his acceptance.
“Well, thank you. It certainly would make things easier.”
A few minutes later, Winn emerged from the house wearing a pair of work pants and a threadbare but clean blue shirt. The shirt was a little small, but he didn’t care. He felt like himself again.
Winn attacked the painting job with a zest that surprised even himself, for he was not really accustomed to physical labor. His rather decadent way of life at home had not included hard work or sacrifices.
The day grew warmer. Had Winn been anywhere else, he would have stripped off his shirt, but he knew he had a certain standard to uphold. Instead, he satisfied himself with just unbuttoning it. He worked alongside Matt, reaping high praise from the nuns as they did their share of the work indoors.
Alex had been hard pressed to find Matt or Father Winn all afternoon. Finally in desperation she went to the mother superior to ask if she’d seen them.
“They’re helping Sister Agnes?” Alex repeated what she’d just been told, surprised that they’d let themselves be sidetracked this way. They were here to find the crown, and every day they delayed, her father remained in prison, possibly coming closer to death.
“Yes, my dear, they are, and, according to sister, they’re doing a marvelous job. Sister Agnes is a firm believer that idle hands are the devil’s workshop, but she’s such a charming taskmaster that no one ever seems to care. I doubt they’ll be back much before dark. Knowing sister as I do, she’ll keep them going as long as their strength holds up and there’s enough light to work by. Shall we go see?”
They made their way to the widow’s home.
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