Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold (35 page)

He will have pity on the weak

And save the lives of the poor.

She knows where I am
, the girl thought to herself, as she toyed with the faded red ribbon on the prayer book as the friars intoned Evening Prayer.
So why doesn’t she just call the police and have me arrested?

She must be afraid to, because she thinks I know too much.

So what is it that I know?

After prayer, she tentatively made her way down the aisle, step by step, to the sacristy. There she leaned against the closet door and looked at the Sisterhood, standing quietly in the sunset-colored light.

What should I do?

Again, she walked among the statues, feeling a surge of affection for the dilapidated images. In this place where she had no female friends, they took the place of womanly comrades. She remembered how Brother Leon had been singing to the statues, and pondered that. From the back corner, the woman with the lyre beckoned to her with outstretched palm, and Nora went up to her and looked in her frank glass eyes. On the plaster hand lay the white medicine bottle that the girl had taken from Mr. Fairston’s room.

Perplexed, the girl picked it up again, remembering that she had put it there the night she had come to the church during the rainstorm and talked to Brother Leon. She looked at the bottle again. No label, and two white pills inside.
If I had more nursing experience, maybe I’d understand what this is
, she thought to herself. Sighing, she put it back in the hand of the saint’s image.
Hold onto it for me just a bit longer, St. Cecelia. Thanks.

Frustrated, she put her hands in the pockets of her jeans and felt around for her door key.

It was gone.

Worried, she checked the chain on her neck, but there were only two keys on it, the key Bear had given her to St. Lawrence and the key to the Fairston home. No, she was sure she had put the door key right back in her pocket last time she had used it, right before she had encountered Bonnie…

….
So she did take something after all
.

That means she’s planning to come back.

II

“Nora, you have got to be even more careful,” Leon said to her when she told him as they were going into dinner. “Have the dogs sleep in front of your door, okay?”

“Okay, I will.”

He felt frustrated with her, that she wouldn’t tell them more about what her situation was. She had told them some of her story, but clearly, not everything.
Now I have to take my own advice
, he said to himself.
Trust.

It was Saturday night, and according to the Church’s liturgical calendar, Sunday had begun. It was also the eve of the Assumption, and an air of festive solemnity reigned. After dinner in the refectory, the community gathered in the library together. Father Francis gave Nora a seat on the rocking chair, and the others sat around in various places. Brother Herman passed out cups of tea and the inevitable day-old baked goods.

“Nora,” Father Francis said, “would you consider going to the police about this whole matter?”

“Believe me, I’ve been wondering that again and again,” Nora admitted, pushing back her hair. “But I think I need to wait.”

“What are you waiting for, if it’s not too much to ask?” Father Francis queried, putting down his tea.

 “Well, for one thing, my family should be home from vacation on Tuesday. But more than that even, I’m waiting for someone,” she said steadily. “My boyfriend. He should be back from Europe soon, and I’m pretty sure that he’ll know what to do. He’s kind of been in this situation before.” She looked at Brother Herman. “And I’ve decided to believe in him.” The white-bearded artist friar smiled.

 “All right,” Father Francis said, and lifted his cup back up to his lips. “You tell us if you need any help before then.”

“Can I ask you all for your opinion on something?” Nora said abruptly, staring at her teacup. “I’ve been debating about whether or not to finish college. Because—well, I guess I’m thinking about that M.R.S. degree,” she admitted, blushing. “I know everyone says I’ll regret it if I don’t finish, but I just don’t know if it’s—my path.”

“Then continue to pray about it,” Father Francis said. “I can’t tell you what’s right for you in this matter. But both going to college and getting married are huge decisions you shouldn’t let yourself drift into, or choose out of fear or impatience. Take your time. Think deeply about what you want and what God is asking you.” He took another sip from his tea. “I
can
tell you that it is not impossible that God is calling you to take this step. He often calls us to take steps that seem foolish to the world. But you have to pray and choose carefully.”

“And don’t just go because all your friends are,” Leon said. “I wasted two or three years in college because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. And by the time I figured out that I wanted to join a religious order, I had student loans to pay off first.”

“Well, it's not really a decision I can make right now,” Nora said with a sigh. “It's all theoretical until the man I want to marry proposes. And unless
he
figures out what he's doing with his life, I'm sort of in limbo.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “So what degree did you end up with?” she asked, as usual directing the conversation away from herself.

“I barely got a B.A.—in mental health and human services,” Leon said. “I was going to be a counselor.”

“But when he realized they don’t allow the incurably insane to be counselors, he gave it up,” Matt put in.

“Ha ha ha,” Leon said easily. He had been hearing that joke for a while.

“And what about you?” Nora looked at Brother Charley. “Did you go to college?”

The big novice nodded. “I was an auto mechanic and biker first. Then I decided to get a degree in business. Never thought when I went back to college that I’d end up a friar and a seminarian.”
 

 Nora looked at Matt, who was sitting next to Charley. The blond novice shrugged. “I’m probably the most average one,” Matt said. “I was majoring in theology and philosophy because I knew in grade school that I wanted to become a religious. For me it was a matter of finding the right order.”

“What about you?” Nora asked Father Bernard. The black-haired friar smiled.

“To tell the truth, I thought I was going to sell carpet, like my folks did,” Father Bernard said. “But I just wasn’t meant to be in flooring.”

He looked at Father Francis, who drained his teacup and set it down. “I was a sociologist, and am a psychologist,” Father Francis said. “I got my doctoral degree after I became a religious.”

Nora turned to Brother George, who had sat, silent and surly, sipping a cup of hot water during this whole exchange. “What were you in your past life—I mean, before you became a monk?”

Brother George said in clipped tones, “I was a pharmacist. Before I became a
friar
. Not a monk. Haven’t you paid attention to anything since you’ve gotten here?”

Leon winced at Brother George’s rudeness. Nora turned away suddenly, her hair whipping over her face, and got up.

“Nora, hey, are you all right?” Matt started to ask anxiously.

“Excuse me—I have to go get something,” she said, and turned and fled down the hallway.

Leon turned on the older friar. “There was no need for that!” he exclaimed. “You’ve been trying to make her uncomfortable ever since she came here!”

George’s face registered shame, but he became defensive. “I never wanted her to be here. She’s been a disruption to regular religious life ever since she got here. And now it looks as though our order is going to get involved in a police case because we let her in!”

“Our whole life is a disruption of regular religious life!” Leon retorted. “It’s one crisis after another anyhow!”

“But that doesn’t mean we should go looking for trouble! It shouldn’t be like this!”

“Shouldn’t it?” Father Francis cut in coolly, jostling his teacup. “What is it you want, George? A monastery? Maybe you’re in the wrong place.”

“Maybe you should go off and become a
monk
,” Leon interjected. “Maybe you should join the Benedictines and make fruitcake.”

“Leon,” Father Francis said sharply, and Leon knew he had gone too far. He pulled himself up short, and tried to calm down.

“We’re not here,” Father Francis said in his roughest Brooklyn accent, “to put down the Benedictines, or the lay people, or anyone else for that matter. We’re here to ‘put down’ ourselves, aren’t we? And I may be a dim bulb, but I don’t see that happening right here between you two brothers.”

“I’m sorry, George,” Leon said, attempting a genuine mortification of his pride.

“I’m sorry too, Leon,” George said, and although Leon knew it was not deliberate, George’s voice had a tint of superciliousness that made Leon’s streetwise pride go crazy. He thrust out his jaw and sat down.

“Well, well. As Christ said, ‘Where two or three are gathered in My Name, there’s bound to be problems,’” Father Francis opined dryly. “Let’s get ready for night prayer, shall we?”

Leon tried to put it aside as he finished his tea. It didn’t make it easier for him when Matt started (unintentionally or not) humming the tune of “And They’ll Know We Are Christians By Our Love” as he got to his feet.

As Brother Charley opened the door to the library, the dogs trotted in, tails wagging, then abruptly paused, staring at the sofa, where Brother Herman and Father Bernard were still sitting.

“Hey pooch,” Father Bernard put out a hand. “What’s wrong?”

Snarls broke forth from the dogs, and they approached the sofa sniffing. Brother Herman hastily got to his feet, but Father Bernard, perplexed, said, “Good pooches…?”

Suddenly the dogs’ growls turned into full-fledged barks as they leapt onto the sofa, scrambling over Father Bernard’s lap, sending his tea and the cushions flying.

“Holy Saints Francis and Clare!” the priest gave a yelp as Leon and Charley tried to grab the dogs. Then all at once, rats seemed to explode from every crevice of the sofa. Over a dozen furry gray whip-tailed cones darted out from under the cushions and beneath the tattered skirt, squeaking and making beelines for the doorway.  Howling, the dogs pivoted and leapt after the rats, barreling into each other as they went. The friars all flattened themselves against the wall to avoid the rodent-and-canine avalanche.

The dogs vanished into the depths of the friary but they could be heard, snarling and snapping at their prey. When the friars finally located them in the basement stairwell, the two were engaged in a massive tug-of-war over a large rat carcass.  The remains of several others were scattered on the steps.  

Father Bernard shuddered, “I’m never sitting on that couch again.”

“Those were big ones,” Leon said in awe.

“Well, well, so these devil dogs are useful after all,” Father Francis said.

“I’d say they’re less devils than exorcists,” Father Bernard corrected him.

“What do you say we call them ‘Cappu’ and ‘Shin?’” Leon asked.

“Sounds like a plan,” Father Francis said, and blessed them.

III

His brother was not noted for his sensitivity or tact, but when he picked Bear up and heard his story, Fish seemed to be possessed by an incredible discretion, at least for the moment.

“What’s Jean’s number?” he queried, as a weary and sore Bear tumbled into the back seat of the car.

Bear told him the number, and Fish, who had taken his cell phone back with a comment about Bear’s lack of technological savvy, punched in the number. “Jean?” Bear heard Fish talking. “It’s me again. Bear and I were wondering if we could come back over to your place for a while...You’re having a late supper? No, I’m sure we wouldn’t mind that at all. Bear, do you object to food? No? No, of course he doesn’t. Can we pick up anything on the way? No? All right, then. We’ll go change and be over there soon.”

He glanced over at Bear. “You need some R&R after that episode. More than pizza in a foodless apartment.”

“Thanks, Fish,” Bear murmured, his eyes closed.

Bear had rarely been so glad to see the Brier home, and it was an added bonus to find Mrs. Foster there again, too. Apparently she and Jean had really hit it off. After a few minutes among his close friends, he felt more relaxed than he had for the past few days since he discovered Blanche was missing. Jean looked over his injuries from his fight, and pronounced them not serious—mostly bruises—which he was glad to hear, as he was already stiff and sore.

During dinner, Jean suggested they avoid talking about the crisis. So Mrs. Foster told them about the girl her son Stephen was dating. Bear asked the Briers about their trip to California, and Rose embarked on an extended narrative of their adventures. Then she asked him about his European adventure, and he told them a few stories. There was a lull in the conversation, and Bear noticed that everyone else was still eating. He tried to think of something else to talk about.