by Aimée Thurlo
“If you do anything to me now, the dog will attack you no matter how many commands you know.”
“I wouldn’t be that stupid. My move would come when you least expected it—in a week, a month. Or maybe I’d strike out at one of the other nuns when she’s out alone making a meal delivery.”
Sister Agatha handed him the amber plastic. “You win this round.”
He offered her a hand and helped her down, a show of courtesy for the benefit of anyone watching from a distance. “Just remember that I’ll be keeping a real close watch on you and the other sisters. None of you are ever out of my reach.”
Sister Agatha looked off into the distance and added, “Did you get all that, Sheriff?”
McKay turned his head just as Sheriff Tom Green stepped out of the shadows. He’d come around from the far side of the monastery, hidden by the wall. Tom quickly moved between McKay and the driver’s door, effectively blocking his escape. Several other deputies also converged on them, including the one who’d stayed in plain sight across the road.
Sister Agatha kept a tight hold on Pax’s collar as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a digital recorder. It was still running. “Here you go, Sheriff,” she said, handing it to Tom.
“Your own words, along with all the evidence we already have against you, will be enough to make sure you serve hard time. You and Senator Holman are going down,” Tom told McKay.
Sister Agatha looked at McKay and smiled. “As it says in Job, He ‘catches the wise in their own craftiness, and disappoints the counsel of the wicked.’”
Reverend Mother and Sister Agatha sat outside on a banco, watching the team of nuns building the small well house. Sister Jo was at the top of her form, directing the construction of a solid structure that would serve them for many years. The framing was almost complete around the sturdy foundation, and an insulated wooden floor was already in place around the pump. Some electrical work would come next—but outside help would be needed for that part.
“Did Chuck say anything else about seeing the angel?” Reverend Mother asked Sister Agatha as Sister Ignatius joined them.
Sister Agatha nodded. “He’s still trying to decide if it was just the power of suggestion and a trick of the light, Mother. Without a photo, I’m guessing he’ll remain a skeptic.”
“Tzuriel was sent to us, not to the world,” Sister Ignatius said, now as familiar with the incident as the rest of the sisters. “Our Lord must have asked Tzuriel to show himself to us so we wouldn’t be afraid. The rest of the world didn’t need to see him.”
“I just wish we all could have had a chance to say thank you directly,” Reverend Mother added with a wistful smile.
Sister Ignatius suddenly crossed herself and pointed ahead. “You were heard,” she whispered. “Do you see it, Mother?”
Sister Agatha searched the ground ahead, but she couldn’t see what Sister Ignatius was talking about.
Mother glanced at Sister Agatha, questions filling her eyes, but Sister Agatha shook her head, mystified.
“The leaf,” Sister Ignatius said in a whisper. “The gold leaf.”
Although they were surrounded by many varieties of green, all part of the new spring growth, there was one perfectly formed gold leaf on the ground directly in front of them. The breeze suddenly caught it, and as it lifted up off the ground, Reverend Mother and Sister Agatha saw that it was in the shape of an angel, wings and all.
Reverend Mother gasped, then whispered a heartfelt “Thank you.”
Before she’d even finished the words, the leaf floated upward into the trees and out of their sight.
“It wasn’t meant to stay here. God demands faith most of all,” Sister Ignatius whispered.
As the bells for Compline rang, a hush fell over all of them. With bowed heads, the Brides of Christ put down their tools and answered their Lord’s gentle summons.
