Prey for a Miracle

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  “About all this racket, Mother,” Sister Agatha said. “I’ve had an idea.” She held out the ear protectors.

  “Earmuffs?” Reverend Mother smiled.

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  “No, much better than that. These are ear protectors. They’re used by the police when they’re shooting. They deaden sound enormously.” She placed the pair on herself, smiled, then took them off and handed them to Mother. “Try them, Mother.”

  Reverend Mother put them on. After a moment, she smiled. “I love them,” she said, and took them off carefully.

  “They’d be out of the question for the externs when we’re working the parlor, but think of the relief it would give the cloistered sisters.”

  “I suppose we can all share this one, taking turns,” Reverend Mother said slowly.

  “There’s no need. I borrowed a pair for each of us.”

  Reverend Mother looked at her telephone, then sighed wistfully. “I have to be able to hear the phone so I can answer it, so I wouldn’t be able to use it during the day, and at night the roofers are gone.”

  “We could transfer all your calls to the parlor. Then whichever one of us is on duty can come find you if you get a call,” Sister Agatha suggested.

  Reverend Mother’s smile was one of unadulterated joy. “I think that would be perfect,” she said, then suddenly paused. “But it’s not dignified,” she added hesitantly. “What if we get another visit from the chancellor?”

  “We’ll give you advance notice before escorting him here,” Sister Agatha assured. “Mother, the sisters and you desperately need some peace and quiet. Think of being able to pray without distractions again! I don’t think Our Lord would disapprove of ear protectors. Remember the reading in Office today. ‘The Lord sees not as man sees, for man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’”

  Reverend Mother smiled, then nodded. “Give them out to the sisters.” She cleared her throat. “But first we need to talk about our intruder.”

  “I got the impression the chancellor wasn’t told. Am I right?”

  “You are. I saw no reason to bother him with that. But I need to know everything that you saw or heard. Sister Bernarda gave me some of the details before and after the sheriff’s man left, but now it’s time to hear from you.”

  Sister Agatha nodded, and told Reverend Mother everything she knew, including Sheriff Green’s reactions, and his offer to provide them with some protection.

  Reverend Mother considered it at length. “Do you think there’s a connection between this intruder and that piece of roofing material that narrowly missed falling on you?”

  Sister Agatha shook her head. “I’m sure that was just an accident, Mother, a result of carelessness,” she added, hoping she was right. “But the intruder was looking for something or someone. Natalie, I think.”

  “Sister Bernarda said that the stolen habit hadn’t been in the laundry room until after lunch. She guessed that the intruder must have come in and taken it from there. Thankfully, that didn’t give him much time to wander around.”

  “Since he took the chance of coming to the main building after I spotted him, my guess is I caught him a very short time after he began his masquerade. He ran to the main building hoping to spot Natalie, but got nothing for his trouble except an angry nun chasing him— me.”

  “From now on I want the sisters alert. I’ll be bringing this up at recreation,” Reverend Mother said. “Now go share our blessed ear-muffs.”

  Sister Agatha began to distribute the ear protectors a short while later. They came in two colors—bright orange and vivid red—and both colors stood out like beacons against their dark veils. But not one sister met the gift with anything less than unbounded relief.

  Sister Clothilde’s eyes lit up when she received her pair. She’d been working on the cookie dough with a pained expression on her face, but the second she put on the ear protectors, Sister Agatha was rewarded with a blissful smile.

  Sister Maria Victoria had been sweeping the floor in the refectory and cringing each time a nail gun fired or a saw started screeching. When she placed the ear protectors on, her eyes danced and a huge grin lit up her face. She pointed to her rosary and then back to Sister Agatha, indicating she’d be saying a rosary for her soon.

  “Everyone’s got their ear protectors,” Sister Agatha told Sister Bernarda later. “I can say without reservation that they were a hit!”

  “I saw Sister Eugenia and Sister Maria Victoria going down the hall, Sister Gertrude behind them, all wearing ear protectors. We now look like a monastery of militant nuns,” she said, then smiled. “You did a good thing today, Sister Agatha.”

  During the nuns’ recreation hour Sister Agatha stayed with Natalie in the parlor area.

  “Sister, can I talk to you?” Natalie asked, her mouse slippers squeaking as she approached. Hearing them, Pax sat up, stared at them, then lay back down.

  “Don’t let Pax get near your slippers,” she said, setting down the veil she was mending. “He’ll chew them up for sure.”

  Natalie laughed and sat next to the dog, putting her arm around him, then looked up at Sister Agatha. “I really need to see my mom. When can I go visit her?”

  Sister Agatha hesitated, unsure of what to say. She was absolutely certain that the phony nun had been searching for Natalie. Now more than ever they had to make sure she remained protected.

  “I know she’s in the hospital,” Natalie said. “Uncle Rick said that she’s in a deep sleep and won’t hear me. But Samara said that Mom will, so I want to go talk to her. She needs me. And I miss her.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she wiped an errant tear from her cheek quickly.

  No one without a heart of steel could have ignored the cry of a child who needed her mother. Sister Agatha felt her chest tighten. “Natalie, I promise that I’ll do my very best to get permission to take you there. But give me some time to try and make your case. I’m going to have to convince people who’ll think it’s a bad idea right now. And they could be right.”

  “I know everyone’s afraid that the person who hit us on the road will come after me, but I have to see Mom. And I know Mom would approve. She told me that nothing good ever gets done without courage.”

  “She’s right,” Sister Agatha admitted. “What were you talking about when your mother said that?” she asked, picking up on it immediately.

  “She didn’t like her boss, Mr. Carlisle, and she was upset with him. She’s very good at her job. She said so herself. But Mr. Carlisle always wants to do things his way. They argued a lot. He kept calling her at home, and Mom really hated that.”

  “What was it that Mr. Carlisle wanted her to do?”

  “I don’t know. Something to do with work,” she said. After a pause, she added, “Sister, you have to convince everyone to let me go see my mom. I’ve just got to see her!”

  “I’ll try my best,” she said, meaning it. If there was a way, she’d find it.

  The following morning, Sister Agatha returned to the parlor after Mass. Sister de Lourdes had taken Natalie to the kitchen, with Reverend Mother’s permission, so she could help Sister Clothilde bake cookies. The new oven had already been delivered and hooked up, under the watchful eyes of Sister Bernarda.

  Natalie was a natural inside cloister. She spoke only when necessary, keeping the silence as diligently as any of the nuns. Of course, the ear protectors were a constant reminder of the need for quiet.

  Sister Agatha picked up the ringing phone and heard a familiar voice.

  “It’s Tom,” Sheriff Green said. “Have you learned anything useful from Natalie?”

  She told him everything she’d found out. “You might want to check and see if Jessica’s boss, Carlisle, drives a pickup, and if so, what color it is.”

  “I’m sure one of my deputies already covered that, but I’ll look into it myself. Then I’m going to do a background check on the man. I questioned everyone in the construction office who worked with Jessica, but I didn
’t get much. Jessica wasn’t one to get together with the girls after work.”

  “Didn’t you tell me once that Jessica was a bookkeeper? If that’s so, that opens the door to a lot of possibilities.”

  “No, not a bookkeeper. Jessica worked as an accounts receivable and payable clerk,” Tom answered. “And Carlisle told me that if there had been any irregularities he or his boss would have found them. Carlisle is the head bookkeeper at the local office, but all their books are passed on to an accountant at company headquarters in Albuquerque. I’ll look into all that a little more when I talk to the people in Albuquerque.”

  “Let me know if anything useful turns up.”

  “Sure, but in the meantime keep pressing Natalie. She doesn’t remember her father apparently, but see if she can tell you who her mom’s last boyfriend was, or how long it has been since Jessica had one.”

  “I’ll try, but she’s having a rough time of it, Tom. She misses her mom terribly. If we could figure out a way to get her in to see Jessica, it would definitely help me earn her trust.”

  “That’s out of the question,” he said after a long pause.

  “Tom, we have workmen all around us and a phony nun nosing around, but we’ve still managed to keep her hidden and safe. Surely there’s a way to sneak her into the hospital.”

  “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.”

  11

  SISTER 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 a
sk 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.”