Prey for a Miracle (11 page)

“This isn’t the time to be taking unnecessary risks.”

“It’s not unnecessary. Natalie needs to see her mother, Tom. Come up with a way.”

“I’ll try to think of something.”

Sister Agatha hung up and used the clapper, a traditional wooden device reminiscent of castanets, to call Sister Bernarda to take her place. As soon as she arrived, Sister Agatha went to find Natalie.

Moments later Sister Agatha found Sister de Lourdes watching over Natalie while she played tug-of-war with Pax. Sister Gertrude sat in her wheelchair across the room, mending some habits.

Sister Agatha waited, watching Pax bring out a side of Natalie she hadn’t seen—a girl who smiled and laughed like any other kid her age. When Pax finally lay down, tired, Sister Agatha signalled Sister de Lourdes, and took Natalie aside.

“Will you come sit with me for a bit?” Sister Agatha asked.

“Sure. Did Sheriff Green say I could go see Mom?”

“I’m still working on getting the sheriff’s permission, but I’m hoping he’ll say yes soon. Okay?” Seeing Natalie nod, she continued. “But if we want the sheriff to help us, we’re going to have to help him catch the bad guy who caused the accident. Will you answer a few more questions about your mom for me?”

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Has your mom ever had a special friend, someone who would visit every once in a while and stay to talk or maybe have dinner?”

Natalie thought about it for a while. “Mom works a lot, so we don’t have people come over. She says that we’re each other’s best friends.”

“Is she friendly with the parents of your friends at school?”

“She used to be, but she’s mad at most of them now because of the way they act around me—they either want something or they won’t talk to me at all.”

“Is there any one person she’s particularly upset with?”

Natalie considered it for several long moments. “Mrs. Pacheco, who teaches life science. She and her husband were there one day when Mom picked me up. Mrs. Pacheco wanted Mom to let me go with them so I could visit her son. Mom tried to explain that I couldn’t do anything for him, and I told them that, too, but Mrs. Pacheco just wanted me to talk to him about my angel. She said it would be like a visit from heaven.

“Mom said that Mrs. Pacheco should call Uncle Rick instead. That what her son needed was God’s help, not mine. Then Mrs. Pacheco got mad and we left.”

“That was the end of it?”

She shook her head. “The next day at lunch Mrs. Pacheco said that she needed to show me something and took me to the teachers’ parking lot. Her son was in the car. He was a lot older than me, and really sick, and I didn’t know what to do. They wanted me to touch him and I did, but I don’t think it helped. He was still sick. Samara told me that he was going to die soon, but I didn’t tell them that. That afternoon the principal found out and Mrs. Pacheco never came back. Now Mrs. Winters is our teacher.”

Sister Agatha nodded but said nothing. The heaviest burden placed on Natalie came from people’s expectations. It hurt her deeply to think of the weight those young shoulders were expected to bear.

“Sister, I really have to go see my mom soon. Samara said that Mom needs to hear me tell her that I love her and that I’m waiting for her to get better. Samara’s already said it would be fine and I’d be safe, but nobody believes me,” Natalie said, crying tears of frustration. “It’s just not fair! Uncle Rick, Mom, and the sisters always say that we need to have faith and that God can do anything. So why don’t they believe me when I tell them about Samara?”

Sister Agatha searched her heart for an answer. “It’s just hard to believe in the extraordinary—particularly when it happens in the midst of very ordinary lives.”

S
ISTER AGATHA SAT ACROSS FROM TOM GREEN’S DESK AT THE
sheriff’s office. The door behind her was closed and Pax was outside with other officers.

She’d told him the few bits of information she’d been able to learn from Natalie, and now watched her old friend consider his options. In the last few years, with the additional weight of his responsibilities, he’d become more reserved and cautious. Tom liked things nice and neat—black or white—which was why law enforcement suited him. But this case was filled with too many intangibles and those clearly made him uncomfortable.

“What do
you
make of the angel?” he asked.

“I believe in angels, but I’m not really sure that what Natalie sees isn’t just a product of her own imagination.”

He gave her a long hard look. “You don’t like this angel thing at all, do you? Reality and fantasy don’t mix—one destroys the other— and that’s what makes you uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on. It’s me, Tom Green. I
know
you. You went into the monastery because you fell in love with the ideal man. As long as He’s not tangible, you’re safe. I’d bet the farm that the last thing you want is to actually
see
an angel.”

Although there was some truth to what Tom was saying, the bottom line was that he had no idea what a calling really was.

“I felt compelled, for lack of a better word, to go into the religious life. Despite what you think, God is as real to me as the beat of my own heart,” she said. “But what I fell in love with is the gentleness that shimmers through every answered prayer. When there was no one else I could turn to, He gave me peace. The apostle John said it best, ‘We love Him because He first loved us.’”

Sister Agatha shook her head in exasperation. “This is a tough thing to talk about in a way that makes sense to someone else. It’s like asking you to explain why you love your wife or your kids. You can list all the things that draw you to them till you’re blue in the face, but that still doesn’t explain it. Love is much more than just that.”

“Maybe I don’t understand what drives anyone to the religious life, but I’m not wrong about this—something about this angel thing really bothers you.”

“I’m not sure what to make of it. But you’re right about one thing. I don’t want to see Natalie’s angel. A part of that is due to plain, old-fashioned fear. But there’s more to it than that. Not seeing the spiritual means that I live by the words, ‘the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.’ That gives wings to my faith. It challenges me to continually reach upwards and be better. If you
see,
you don’t need faith, and faith is the only sure gift I bring Him daily along with my love.”

He remained silent for a moment, then said slowly, “I’ve heard of children seeing angels when they’re facing death. Maybe that’s the case now with Natalie,” he muttered. “I’ll ask around about the deal with Mr. and Mrs. Pacheco,” he added in a stronger voice. “Judging from what Natalie told you, they may have a monumental grudge against Jessica.”

“Do you know what happened to their son?”

“If they’re the same Pachecos I know about, their son just died from leukemia.”

“Those poor people must be going through their own version of hell. It may be easier for them to talk to a nun right now than to you. You can always send a deputy later if you need to make it official,” she said.

“If you pick up a lot of hostility or evasiveness, give me a call,” he said, giving her their address.

Sister Agatha and Pax got underway a few minutes later. The Pachecos lived just west of the river. Although she knew some of the families in the area, she couldn’t remember ever having met them.

As she drew closer to the address, Sister Agatha was forced to drive up an unpaved, graveled road thick with dust despite the recent rain. Even Pax ducked down after several sneezing fits. When they arrived about five minutes later, Sister Agatha glanced down at her dark habit and saw that it was coated with dust. Brushing it off the best she could, she placed Pax at stay beside the bike and walked toward the wooden porch of the long, narrow mobile home.

Before she reached the steps, a heavy, middle-aged woman wearing black pants and a loose-fitting black cotton shirt walked outside to the porch. “Can I help you, Sister?”

Sister Agatha introduced herself. “I heard about your recent loss and wanted to assure you that the sisters will be praying for the soul—”

The woman held up her hand.
“Now
the Church wants to help? They had their chance. Father Mahoney could have insisted Natalie be allowed to come and spend a few moments talking to my son. Instead, I had to put my job on the line sneaking her out to the school parking lot. And all that, for what? So she could see Peter for all of thirty seconds? God gave Natalie the ability to speak with angels so she could help others, but the priests want to keep her hidden away. It’s all about control.”

Understanding that the root of her anger was pain, Sister Agatha was filled with compassion. “I am so very sorry for your loss, but believe me, there was nothing Natalie could have done for your son.”

“You’re wrong, and so was Father Mahoney. My son
did
get better after he saw Natalie. He stopped being afraid of dying, and for a little while before he passed away I think he saw angels, too.” Mrs. Pacheco’s voice broke and she swallowed, wiping her tears away quickly. “If Natalie could have stayed a bit longer, maybe…” She shook her head. “I don’t know why you came, Sister, but you better leave. There’s nothing we want from you
or
the church.”

“No matter what else happened, Natalie did help you. Now her mother’s in a coma because someone ran them off the road. This is
your
chance to help Natalie. Won’t you answer just a few questions?”

Mrs. Pacheco took a long shuddering breath. “All I know about that accident is what I read in the papers. What else can I possibly tell you?”

“When was the last time you spoke to Jessica? And can you think of anyone else at school who wanted Natalie’s help?”

“The last time I spoke to Jessica was the day she refused to let Natalie come to my home and talk to Peter. But there
was
someone else hanging around school the day Natalie saw my boy in the parking lot. I had duty outside later that afternoon while the busses were there, and I saw him watching the children waiting for their rides. When Natalie came outside to sit on one of the benches, he started walking toward her. Then Jessica pulled up and called Natalie. The guy did a quick about-turn and that was the last time I saw him. I was called into the office by the principal just after that. I forgot all about it until now.”

“Did you recognize the person?”

“I thought it was Joey Rubio, my next-door neighbor. He works for Del Martinez’s roofing company. I can’t swear it was him, though. I was standing in the bus loading zone and he never looked in my direction.”

“Did you go to the Tannen house to try and see Natalie the night of the accident?” Sister Agatha watched the other woman’s expression closely.

Tears filled her eyes and Mrs. Pacheco shook her head. After a long pause, she answered, “The night of that downpour my family and I gathered here for a prayer vigil. A priest was here, too.”

“Father Mahoney?”

“No, I don’t want anything to do with that man. We asked Father Ramirez to come over from the Corrales parish.”

Sister Agatha felt the woman’s pain and anger and wished there was something she could say to ease that awful burden. As she stood there, Mrs. Pacheco drew back into herself as if trying to escape the grief that lay like a weight over her shattered heart.

Out of respect, Sister Agatha waited a bit before speaking. “Why do you think Joey might have wanted to see Natalie?” she asked at long last.

“Joey won custody of his daughter after his divorce, but his ex took the girl and ran. Joey’s been looking for his daughter ever since. He was probably hoping Natalie and her angel could tell him where they are. But, remember, I’m not sure that was Joey.”

It saddened her to think of all the people who were looking exclusively to Natalie, not realizing or understanding that they, too, had the power to pray and ask for God’s help on their own. But one thing was becoming very clear—Natalie would never know a normal childhood in this community.

“Sister Agatha, Natalie
has
received a special grace. That’s why she’s able to see that angel. She’s God’s gift to us.”

“No one has been able to prove the existence of that angel.”

“Nor disprove it. Why doesn’t Father Mahoney take Natalie to the hospital and let her help her own mother, for God’s sake? She should be allowed to try at least.” Mrs. Pacheco backed into her home, tears in her eyes, and closed the door.

With a heavy heart, Sister Agatha walked back to the Harley and signalled Pax to get into the sidecar. She’d go to the Rubio home next. He was probably at work, but maybe someone else was there.

Sister Agatha drove down the lane to the next house. The residences stood on one-acre lots that also held old sheds, corrals, and inoperative or additional vehicles. As Sister Agatha drove up the graveled road to the Rubio home, she noticed an elderly woman tending a small garden near a dilapidated stucco building that looked like a workshop. She pulled a long hose, watering each plant patiently. Sister Agatha looked around and, not seeing any other animals, gave Pax the command to accompany her.

“Good morning,” Sister Agatha greeted the woman, and introduced herself.

“Buenos dias, Hermana.
I’m Carmen Rubio. What can I do for you?” She crouched down and picked a large green caterpillar off a plant, then tossed it to the ground, squashing it with her heel.

“I need to talk to Joey. Is he here?”

“No, he’s probably still at the monastery. Unless it rains they’re going to be working on that roof of yours every day until it’s done. Didn’t you see him over there?”

“I didn’t even know that he was part of the crew,” she said.

Sister Agatha knew that Joey wasn’t the person who’d disguised himself as a nun because the other workers would have noticed his absence. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t the person who’d run Jessica and Natalie off the road. The two incidents didn’t have to be related.

“How’s the search for Joey’s little girl going?” Sister Agatha asked, deciding to check out the possibility that he’d been the man Mrs. Pacheco had seen.

The woman’s face clouded with grief. “
Mi nieta,
my granddaughter, will grow up never knowing how much her father misses her. She’ll just believe that we didn’t care, if I know her mother. But someday we’ll find her. We’ll never give up hope.”

“Has Joey considered hiring a private detective?”

“He did once, but it cost a lot of money and the man never found my granddaughter. He said he was getting close, but I think he was lying. Once we ran out of money, the detective threw up his hands and stopped doing anything at all. When we heard on TV about Natalie, Joey said he wanted to talk to her. But Natalie’s gone now, hiding with the police.”

“Did Joey ever actually talk to Natalie or Jessica?”

“He wanted to—was thinking about it, you know? But all the men in this family like to think a long time before doing anything.”

“So Joey never got the chance to find out if she could help him or not?”

The woman shrugged. “Not as far as I know, but these days my grandson doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Did Joey ever go to Natalie’s school to try and find her?” Sister Agatha asked. “Other people did.”

Carmen stopped and looked at her long and hard. “And what if he did? What are you really asking, Sister? Are you thinking that he wanted to see her so badly he caused that accident? I know you work with the police sometimes.”

“I don’t know what happened that night, so I’m trying to put the pieces together. That’s all.”

Carmen shook her head. “You’re looking for someone to blame. Don’t try to fool me. Do you know the saying,
‘Mas sabe el diablo por
viejo que por diablo’?”

Sister Agatha nodded. “The devil is wiser because of his age than because he’s the devil.”

“My grandson is a good man. He wants to find his daughter, but not by endangering someone else’s.
Usted comprende?”

“Yes, I do. Thanks,” Sister Agatha said, and turned to walk back to the Harley with Pax.

“Sister,” Carmen called out before she’d gone more than a few steps. “If you care about that little girl, you should convince Father Mahoney to let people find out for themselves what she can or can’t do. Everyone’s curious and the more they talk about Natalie, the more the story will grow. Pretty soon they’ll claim she parted the Rio Grande, and ten people will step up and swear they saw her do it.
Es
verdad.”

“Yes, there’s truth to that,” Sister Agatha said. She was quickly coming to the same conclusion herself.