seemed unthinkable.
“I’ve been giving that some thought. We can move the bare necessities so we can have Mass—” She stopped as her voice broke. “But we’ll still need a new chaplain.”
“Mother, let me go to the station, talk to Sheriff Green face-to-face, and find out what they’ve learned first. Father’s death may yet turn out to be the result of an accident. Then I’ll stop by the rectory and see if there’s anything we can do to help Mrs. Williams, Father’s housekeeper. She’d been with him for years and must be devastated. While I’m there I can find out if the diocese has found a new parish priest, one who will also serve as our chaplain.”
“I’m also concerned about your additional contact with the sheriff. Do you think his seeing you again might make the situation even worse?”
“I wish I could say no with certainty, Mother, but I can’t. But I do know that Tom Green is a good human being, and will ultimately treat us fairly. Now that he’s had the opportunity to express some long-pent-up feelings, we should be on safe ground again.”
“I trust your judgment, child. Go, but come and see me when you return.”
When Sister Agatha returned to the parlor, she found Sister Bernarda at her desk reading the Liturgy of the Hours from her breviary. She gave Sister Bernarda a silent nod, allowing her to continue without interruption. As the silence stretched out for a moment, Sister Agatha considered the many ways her life had changed since she’d become a nun. As a kid, “amen” had often been the only part of most prayers she’d been wholly certain about. These days, prayer was the very fabric of her existence. It ordered her day, and gave meaning to everything she did.
“Did Reverend Mother approve?” Sister Bernarda asked at last, closing her breviary.
“Yes. She wasn’t thrilled, but knows we have to get around somehow.”
She nodded slowly. “I don’t know how we could have managed without any transportation at all.” She looked up at Sister Agatha. “Are you ready to take over for me here now?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I need you to handle portress duty for a while longer. I have to go back into town to talk to the sheriff in person. I have a better chance of getting the answers Reverend Mother needs that way than over the phone. Will you cover for me?”
“Of course. I can handle things here.”
Sister Agatha couldn’t envision any situation her companion wouldn’t be able to handle. She’d always figured that even in the midst of the Apocalypse, Sister Bernarda would find a way to get things organized and working efficiently.
She headed toward the door, then suddenly stopped and turned around. “And Sister?”
Sister Bernarda looked up at her.
“Pray that Father’s death is the result of natural causes or an accident. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long time before this monastery knows any peace again.”
4
S ister Agatha’s hope of getting information from Sheriff Green was dashed the second she arrived at the station. The young deputy behind the desk told her Sheriff Green wouldn’t be available for some time. They’d just received new evidence on Father Anselm’s death. Although the deputy refused to elaborate, the news sent a cold chill up her spine and instinct told her this wasn’t good.
Her first inclination was to go back to the monastery as quickly as possible and talk to Reverend Mother, but Sister Agatha knew there was still work for her to do in town.
She drove straight to the small rectory that stood beside the tall adobe-and-brick church near the center of old Bernalillo, along Camino del Pueblo. This street had once been the main highway, before the interstate was constructed well east of town. Helmet in hand, she walked to the side door and knocked softly.
Frances Williams, who’d been the rectory’s housekeeper for as far back as anyone remembered, answered right away. Seeing Sister Agatha, she smiled. “I’m so glad
“I’ve been giving that some thought. We can move the bare necessities so we can have Mass—” She stopped as her voice broke. “But we’ll still need a new chaplain.”
“Mother, let me go to the station, talk to Sheriff Green face-to-face, and find out what they’ve learned first. Father’s death may yet turn out to be the result of an accident. Then I’ll stop by the rectory and see if there’s anything we can do to help Mrs. Williams, Father’s housekeeper. She’d been with him for years and must be devastated. While I’m there I can find out if the diocese has found a new parish priest, one who will also serve as our chaplain.”
“I’m also concerned about your additional contact with the sheriff. Do you think his seeing you again might make the situation even worse?”
“I wish I could say no with certainty, Mother, but I can’t. But I do know that Tom Green is a good human being, and will ultimately treat us fairly. Now that he’s had the opportunity to express some long-pent-up feelings, we should be on safe ground again.”
“I trust your judgment, child. Go, but come and see me when you return.”
When Sister Agatha returned to the parlor, she found Sister Bernarda at her desk reading the Liturgy of the Hours from her breviary. She gave Sister Bernarda a silent nod, allowing her to continue without interruption. As the silence stretched out for a moment, Sister Agatha considered the many ways her life had changed since she’d become a nun. As a kid, “amen” had often been the only part of most prayers she’d been wholly certain about. These days, prayer was the very fabric of her existence. It ordered her day, and gave meaning to everything she did.
“Did Reverend Mother approve?” Sister Bernarda asked at last, closing her breviary.
“Yes. She wasn’t thrilled, but knows we have to get around somehow.”
She nodded slowly. “I don’t know how we could have managed without any transportation at all.” She looked up at Sister Agatha. “Are you ready to take over for me here now?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I need you to handle portress duty for a while longer. I have to go back into town to talk to the sheriff in person. I have a better chance of getting the answers Reverend Mother needs that way than over the phone. Will you cover for me?”
“Of course. I can handle things here.”
Sister Agatha couldn’t envision any situation her companion wouldn’t be able to handle. She’d always figured that even in the midst of the Apocalypse, Sister Bernarda would find a way to get things organized and working efficiently.
She headed toward the door, then suddenly stopped and turned around. “And Sister?”
Sister Bernarda looked up at her.
“Pray that Father’s death is the result of natural causes or an accident. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long time before this monastery knows any peace again.”
4
S ister Agatha’s hope of getting information from Sheriff Green was dashed the second she arrived at the station. The young deputy behind the desk told her Sheriff Green wouldn’t be available for some time. They’d just received new evidence on Father Anselm’s death. Although the deputy refused to elaborate, the news sent a cold chill up her spine and instinct told her this wasn’t good.
Her first inclination was to go back to the monastery as quickly as possible and talk to Reverend Mother, but Sister Agatha knew there was still work for her to do in town.
She drove straight to the small rectory that stood beside the tall adobe-and-brick church near the center of old Bernalillo, along Camino del Pueblo. This street had once been the main highway, before the interstate was constructed well east of town. Helmet in hand, she walked to the side door and knocked softly.
Frances Williams, who’d been the rectory’s housekeeper for as far back as anyone remembered, answered right away. Seeing Sister Agatha, she smiled. “I’m so glad
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