It was obvious that she wanted to go up to the roof now and not wait until morning. Sister Agatha nodded in agreement. The water would have to be drained immediately to prevent the ceiling from collapsing.
Sister Agatha went to the front doors and stepped outside. Lightning was only visible behind the mountains now, and there was no more rain. The downpour had been typical of New Mexico storms—impressive but short lived.
Sister de Lourdes and Sister Bernarda came out to join her a moment later. After seeing that the canales, the protruding gutters, were clogged and the water wasn’t draining properly, Sister Bernarda and Sister de Lourdes followed her lead and walked to a storage shed to retrieve a long ladder and more flashlights.
Once the ladder was in position, Sister de Lourdes climbed up while Sister Bernarda held it steady and Sister Agatha aimed a flashlight. But as Sister de Lourdes reached the highest safe rung, it was clear she was too short to hoist herself up onto the roof.
Sister Agatha took a deep breath then signalled for Sister de Lourdes to come down. A few minutes later, trying to ignore the way her arthritic joints screamed with pain in this kind of weather, Sister Agatha stepped onto the ladder. Sister Bernarda’s fear of heights was something she’d never quite mastered and making her climb up now with only the glow of a flashlight for guidance seemed uncharitable. It was up to her.
Sister Bernarda tapped her on the leg, signalling for her to come back down. Sister Agatha came off the ladder and stepped away. Before she could figure out what was going on, Sister Bernarda grasped the sides of the ladder and climbed up.
With a sigh, Sister Agatha helped Sister de Lourdes steady the ladder and aim the flashlights. So many people thought that they lived loveless lives here in the monastery, but she’d seen more genuine affection since her arrival at Our Lady of Hope than she’d ever known on the outside. Love here often took the form of small, selfless acts of courage like what Sister Bemarda had just done.
Sister Agatha placed her flashlight in a pocket, forced her swollen hands to grip the sides of the ladder, and climbed up to join Sister Bemarda. Two could work faster than one. As she hoisted herself up onto the roof, she saw Sister Bernarda’s grateful smile.
The canales were clogged and blocked by branches, leaves, and plant debris. Oblivious to the light drizzle that had started, they cleared the canales and soon were ready to go back down. Sister Agatha went first. Sister Bemarda was a large woman and it would take two of them on the ground to steady the ladder for her.
Once the signal was given, Sister Bemarda went down slowly, feeling her way with each step, but as her foot touched the last rung of the ladder, she slipped and fell unceremoniously to the ground.
Hearing Sister Bemarda moan softly as she reached for her ankle, Sister Agatha looked over quickly at Sister de Lourdes. The younger nun nodded and ran inside to search for Sister Eugenia. The infirmarian was needed now.
Sister Bemarda struggled to her feet and, grudgingly accepting Sister Agatha’s help, hobbled back inside the chapel. As they stepped through the massive wooden doors and entered the cloistered side, Sister Eugenia suddenly appeared, pushing an empty wheelchair.
Sister Agatha recognized it instantly as the one Sister Gertrude had been using since her second heart attack. Here, everything was shared as the need arose.
Seeing the wheelchair, Sister Bemarda took a wobbly step backward and shook her head in protest. But Sister Eugenia’s formidable stare left no room for objections. Mortified, Sister Bernarda sat down, and allowed herself to be wheeled out of the chapel.
As soon as they entered the infirmary, Sister Eugenia spoke. “The vow of charity takes precedence over the vow of silence, so speak freely and tell me what happened,” she said.
“It was my fault,” Sister Bernarda whispered making sure her voice didn’t carry. “I was so relieved to be close to the ground again that I hurried—and slipped.”
Sister Eugenia took off Sister Bernarda’s alpargates, the rope soled sandals they all wore, then removed her wet woolen sock. As she did, they all saw the tattoo above her ankle that said, ’Semper Fi.’ The dagger between the words almost looked like a cross.
Seeing it, Sister Eugenia laughed, then noticing the uncomfortable look on Sister Bernarda’s face, added, “I’m sorry, Your Charity. I just didn’t expect the tattoo.”
Sister Agatha smiled widely. Somehow that didn’t surprise her at all. “At least the words that go along with that tattoo seem appropriate to our life here, too. Do you have any others?“
“You’ll never know,” Sister Bernarda answered with a trace of a smile.
After rubbing ointment over the ankle area, Sister Eugenia stepped back to evaluate her work. “All you have is a minor sprain. The ointment will help the swelling and the pain,” she said. Refusing to let Sister Bernarda leave the infirmary, Sister Eugenia led her to the cot. “Tonight, Sister, you’ll remain here.”
Assured that all was well, Sister Agatha stepped to the door and nearly collided with Sister de Lourdes. “I found some more leaks in the chapel,” Sister de Lourdes whispered at the infirmary doorway. “I’ve placed buckets beneath them, and brought towels to absorb any splashing or spills.”
“There’s nothing more we can do tonight. We’ll have to call in a roofer tomorrow. For now, you should go to bed. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a very long day.”
Sister de Lourdes bowed her head and hurried silently down the corridor. Sister Agatha continued more slowly to her own room, known as a cell. She was incredibly cold and the wet fabric of her habit felt as heavy as chain mail. Quickly slipping into another dry habit, she looked wistfully at her bed where Pax was snoring contentedly, then hurried back to the chapel.
Sister Agatha entered through the side door leading from the enclosure. Only candles illuminated the interior now but, even in the flickering glow, she could see fresh leaks everywhere. She was nearly finished positioning more buckets beneath the drips when she heard a rustle of cloth from somewhere behind her. Glancing back, she saw Reverend Mother watching her.
Sister Agatha shook her head imperceptibly, letting her know that the situation was grave. She was considering breaking the Great Silence and going up to talk to her when she heard a new plopping sound. Spotting a new leak near the second station of the cross, she hauled out another bucket from the sacristy and positioned it beneath the steady drip.
After wiping up the water that had collected there with a towel, she was ready to call it a night but, just then, a loud ring sounded. It was the telephone in Reverend Mother’s office, down the hall.
Sister Agatha’s heart began to beat faster. There were only two phones in the monastery—one in the parlor, and a separate phone line in Reverend Mother’s office. As their Abbess, it was necessary for Reverend Mother to maintain her own link to the outside. Calls from the archdiocese and the Mother House usually went directly to her. But nothing except an all-out emergency would have caused that phone to ring at this hour. Glancing down the hall, she saw Reverend Mother hurrying to answer it.
Sister Agatha followed Reverend Mother to the office, ready to serve if needed and preparing for the worst.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Authors’ Note
Acknowledgments
Chapter: 1
Chapter: 2
Chapter: 3
Chapter: 4
Chapter: 5
Chapter: 6
Chapter: 7
Chapter: 8
Chapter: 9
Chapter: 10
Chapter: 11
Chapter: 12
Chapter: 13
Chapter: 14
Chapter: 15
Chapter: 16
Chapter: 17
Chapter: 18
Chapter: 19
PREY FOR A MIRACLE
Thief in Retreat Page 25