Prey for a Miracle

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Prey for a Miracle Page 14

by Aimée; David Thurlo


  Natalie tried to hide behind a young elm, but Sister Agatha had already seen her. After giving Pax the command to jump into the sidecar, she turned off the engine.

  “I know you’re standing behind the tree, Natalie, so you might as well come out,” Sister Agatha said gently, taking off her helmet.

  Natalie stepped away from the tree, but didn’t move toward the motorcycle. “You can’t make me go back. Samara never lies and she said Mom needs me. Mom has to fight right now or she may never come back. Call the hospital. They’ll tell you.”

  The intensity and emotion behind her words made Sister Agatha believe her. “I understand that you really want to see your mom but, Natalie, do you have any idea of how dangerous it is for you out here?”

  “I was careful,” she said, “and I had Pax to protect me. Sister, unless you take me to see my Mom, I’ll just run away again.”

  Looking at Natalie and hearing the desperation in her voice, Sister Agatha didn’t doubt it for a minute. “Okay. I’m going to talk to the sheriff. But first you have to come and sit in the sidecar with Pax while I let everyone know you’re safe.” She handed Natalie the spare helmet.

  As she spoke to Tom and assured him that Natalie was fine, Sister Agatha caught a glimpse of something like a mist or maybe smoke directly behind Natalie. The second she turned her head to look at it squarely, it was gone. Sister Agatha rubbed her eyes, wondering if allergies were fogging her vision.

  “You saw Samara, too, didn’t you?” Natalie said with a smile.

  Natalie’s question unnerved her. “I saw a mist…no, smoke. I don’t know.”

  Natalie looked disappointed, but then her face became set, determination shining in her eyes. “We have to go now, Sister.”

  Realizing that Tom was still on the line, she nodded to Natalie and turned her attention back to him. “Natalie needs to see her mother tonight, Tom. If I take her back to the monastery, she’ll find a way to get out again. I think we should arrange for that visit right now. Preempting another attempt is the best way to protect her.”

  “I’ll call the hospital right away and see how Jessica’s doing,” Tom answered. “Hang on.”

  Sister Agatha glanced at Natalie. “We’re trying to work things out now.”

  “Mom’s in trouble, Sister. I’m just supposed to talk to her, but maybe I can make her get better, too. Lots of people seem to think I can do that.”

  “What if you try and she doesn’t get better? How will you feel then?”

  “Disappointed. But I’ll know for sure then. And Samara says what’s most important now is that Mom hears my voice. I can do that at least.”

  “Okay,” Tom said, coming back on the line. “The head nurse in ICU says that signs are there that suggest Jessica is trying to come out of the coma. But so far she hasn’t regained consciousness, and the longer she stays in that state, the more uncertain the prognosis. She’s also battling a secondary infection, so they have reason to be concerned.”

  “We’re going to the hospital,” Sister Agatha said flatly.

  “Okay, then here’s the deal,” Tom said. “I’ll meet you there, and we’ll go in through the side door. No stops along the way to ICU, and Natalie can only stay for a few minutes. Clear?”

  “We’ll be there.”

  13

  SISTER AGATHA FOLLOWED TOM’S DIRECTIONS, AND AS SHE pulled up to the side entrance, she found him seated on the steps, waiting as inconspicuously as possible.

  “Hurry up,” he urged, coming out of the shadows to meet them. “Leave Pax in the sidecar and let’s get going.”

  Urging Natalie to walk quickly, Sister Agatha stayed on her right while Tom remained a step ahead. Once inside, they went down a long, dark hallway that smelled of disinfectant. The lights were muted and the hospital was quiet now that visiting hours were over. As they hurried into the elevator and the doors slid shut, Sister Agatha caught a glimpse of a man wearing a blue Dallas Cowboys baseball cap standing by the soft drink machine. He seemed to be the only person around not wearing white.

  The moment they reached the second floor, they continued down the corridor at a brisk pace and on through twin doors to a ward marked ICU. A tall, redheaded nurse came out from behind the nurses’ station.

  “Mrs. Johnson,” Tom greeted her.

  The nurse supervisor, according to her photo ID, crouched down in front of Natalie. “This is a very special favor, Natalie. We normally don’t allow anyone under the age of thirteen to come into this area— and never after hours. The only reason I’m allowing you to go in there is because your mom is fighting to wake up and, like you, I’m hoping that somehow she’ll hear your voice and that’ll help her find her way back. But don’t worry if we don’t see any changes right away. Your mom will need lots of time to get well again.”

  Natalie nodded, then glanced back at Sister Agatha. “Will you come with me?”

  Sister Agatha nodded, suddenly very afraid for Natalie. If a miracle occurred tonight and it turned out that Natalie had the gift of healing, then the girl’s childhood—what was left of it—would vanish in that one instant. But if nothing changed, Natalie would have to face the fact that neither she nor her angel had been able to help the person she loved most in the world.

  Sister Agatha nodded to the uniformed deputy stationed by the door. He was short, broad, and built like a tree trunk with arms. More importantly for Jessica’s sake, he had the cop look—that unblinking gaze that went through you somehow and said “back off” without the need for words.

  Sister Agatha walked behind Natalie as they passed other patients, and those awake and able to do so followed the girl with their eyes. Sister Agatha saw the spectrum of emotions Natalie inspired on their faces—acceptance, hope, fear, and even desperation.

  She was suddenly reminded of how precious and how fragile the gift of health was. Here, Sister Agatha was once again face-to-face with mortality, and she had to resist the impulse to run away from this place that echoed with the pain of too many endings and lost second chances.

  Mingled with the scent of antiseptics that filled the room were other odors—those of despair, and death. Sister Agatha knew it by heart. It had been indelibly etched into her memory during the long days and nights she’d sat by Kevin’s bedside, watching him slip away from this life. Her only comfort back then had come from the worn rosary she’d owned since her first communion.

  Natalie went to her mother’s bedside, then took her hand and rested her head against Jessica’s side for a long time. After a while she rose on tiptoes and began whispering something in her mother’s ear. Her words were lost amidst the beeps and hums of the machines and the wheeze of respirators scattered around the unit.

  Minutes passed slowly. When Tom signalled her, Sister Agatha placed a hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “Natalie, it’s time.”

  Natalie hugged her mother then, and as she did, Sister Agatha saw movement behind Jessica’s closed eyelids. Signalling Mrs. Johnson, who came over immediately, Sister Agatha pointed down.

  “Jessica’s fighting it,” the nurse agreed, “but she’s got a ways to go.”

  Natalie let go of her mother, then looked at Sister Agatha. “Mom heard me,” she said with such conviction that none of them refuted it.

  As Natalie turned to walk out of the ward some of the other patients reached out to her with their hands, or called to her softly. Natalie stopped by their beds and spoke to each, talking about her angel and telling them not to be afraid. Mrs. Johnson didn’t try to stop her, but remained close by, watching.

  “That girl’s got a real gift,” Mrs. Johnson said to Sister Agatha in a whisper-soft voice.

  “Not for healing. Her mom’s still in a coma,” Sister Agatha replied quickly, relieved for Natalie’s sake, yet disappointed for Jessica.

  “Sometimes the best gift is the ability to bring hope. A few of the patients who reached out to her tonight have been so consumed by their own pain, they haven’t cared about anything or anyone for some ti
me. But look at the way they respond to her,” the nurse said, watching Natalie as she held the hand of an elderly woman.

  When they stepped back out into the hall, Tom was waiting. Anxious to leave, he led them quickly back down the hall. As they reached the elevator, Sister Agatha caught a glimpse of the same man she’d seen downstairs wearing the cap. Once again he was in the shadows, this time near a visitor’s waiting area at the end of the hall. As she turned to point him out to Tom, the man disappeared into the stairwell.

  Uneasy, Sister Agatha pressed the elevator button so the doors would slide shut, and then told Tom, choosing her words carefully so as not to alarm Natalie.

  “I’ll handle it. But now you and Natalie have to go home.” He paused. “I’ll have a deputy follow you from a distance, just to be safe.”

  “Bad idea. The more attention you call to us, the worse off we’ll be. I’ll have Natalie duck down in the sidecar on the way back so no one sees her. And don’t worry. If I even think for a moment that someone’s following us, I’ll head straight for the station.”

  “Okay, then get going. I’ll track down the man you saw,” he said as the elevator doors opened.

  Sister Agatha led her charge back outside quickly to where Pax was waiting. As Natalie climbed into the sidecar, Sister Agatha handed her the helmet. “Now scrunch down like a turtle in its shell, because we don’t want anyone to see you, and hang on.”

  Sister Agatha sped away from the hospital, staying on the main street. If she did pick up a tail, she’d have more maneuvering options. At first, she glanced back in her rearview mirror every few seconds. But after ten minutes, she relaxed. No one was behind her.

  As they passed The Hog, the biker bar at the north end of town, she saw someone waving at her. When she waved back but didn’t slow down, the man let out a shrill whistle that managed to pierce even the deep rumble of the Harley. Pax jumped up instantly.

  “Natalie, stay down,” Sister Agatha said quickly as she continued north. “A lot of people wave when they see me and Pax on the motorcycle. But we don’t want anyone to know I’ve got an extra passenger tonight.”

  As she continued down the dark highway north of Bernalillo, she caught a glimpse of twin headlights in the rearview mirror. A car was quickly gaining on them.

  Her heart began to hammer, and she reached toward the sidecar, handing Natalie the phone. “Press the number one,” she shouted so Natalie could hear. “Tell Sheriff Green someone’s following us.”

  Sister Agatha turned down a farm road that she knew well, and the car behind them followed. She’d selected this route on purpose. The dirt road circled around, allowing her to reverse course without risking a confrontation with whoever was following. Reaching the highway again in two minutes, she pressed the bike for more speed. Her next stop would be the police station.

  The headlights loomed behind them, so close that Sister Agatha couldn’t look in the rearview mirror without being blinded. As she slowed momentarily for a familiar bump in the pavement, the car behind them suddenly accelerated and pulled up right alongside her.

  Clinging to the handlebars in a death grip, Sister Agatha turned her head to look at the driver. It was Chuck Moody—a young, local man she’d testified against in court two years ago on a hit-and-run charge. He’d been sent to prison, last she’d heard.

  Moody waved at her and grinned widely. “Sister, it’s me, Chuck! Pull over!” he yelled out.

  Before she could answer, he backed off, allowing her to continue and ducking back into the lane behind her motorcycle. Seconds later, red and blue flashing lights appeared just ahead of her on the road. A police cruiser was blocking her lane and another unit was coming up rapidly from behind them. Moody slowed and moved over to the side of the road.

  “Natalie, stay down!” Sister Agatha yelled without turning her head, then pulled over to the shoulder and parked.

  Moody, who’d parked some distance behind her, got out of his car with his hands up in the air. “Whoa! What’s going on here?” Chuck’s straw-colored hair was already starting to thin though he couldn’t be more than twenty-three, and he had the reddish beginnings of a beard. “I was just trying to get Sister Agatha’s attention so I could talk to her.”

  The deputy who’d pulled Moody over patted him down for weapons, then nodded to Tom. “He’s clean.”

  “What did you want to talk to Sister Agatha about?” Tom demanded, walking up to Moody and shining his flashlight in the young man’s eyes.

  “Okay, okay. Chill out. I’ll tell you. During the trial, when she testified against me, I said a lot of crap I shouldn’t have. But I’ve changed now—yeah really,” he said seeing the skeptical look on Tom’s face. “As corny as it sounds, I’ve been wanting to ask her to forgive me for what I said. I was hoping we could mend some fences here.”

  He looked directly at Sister Agatha, who’d approached cautiously. “You helped me more than you know, Sister. I haven’t had a drink in over a year, and I’m finally getting my act together. I’ve got a job at the paper doing the editor’s legwork—you know, research, getting copies of county records, stuff like that. It doesn’t pay much, but I’m hoping for the chance to start writing copy in a few more months.”

  Chuck looked at Sister Agatha with pleading eyes. “I just wanted to let you know you did a good thing. I’ve seen you around a few times, but my boss kept calling me away to do this or do that. Cell phones can be a curse.”

  Seeing the dark red beat-up sedan he drove, Sister Agatha glared at him. “Chuck, you scared me half out of my wits! If I’d have known it was you all this time…”

  “I really am sorry, Sister Agatha. But, listen, one of the things I wanted to tell you is that you can use my employee’s discount to place an ad in the paper. That way you can advertise the monastery’s cookies. I’ve heard the sisters are going into business now.”

  “My mistake, Tom,” Sister Agatha said with a sigh. “Let him go.”

  “Not quite yet,” Tom answered. “Mr. Moody, tell me where you were the night of the storm.”

  “Easy. I was working with Janice Bose, my editor at the Chronicle, until nearly two in the morning. The wind blew a cottonwood branch through the office window. We spent hours shutting down and moving the computers, cleaning up the mess, and getting the system up again in the next room. The security guard helped us block out the rain with a sheet of plywood, but it was an all-nighter, Sheriff. You can check it out with Janice,” he said.

  “I know Janice. I’ll check your story.”

  “Sister Agatha,” Chuck said, turning to look at her, “I learned one big lesson in prison—I never want to go back again. If there’s anything I can do for you to make up for all the trouble I caused before, just let me know. From now on, I’m one of the good guys.”

  “Thanks, Chuck. I’ll keep it in mind.” After shaking his hand, she glanced at Tom. “I’ve got to get back to the monastery. Everyone will be worried because I’ve been gone so long.”

  “Go. Chuck and I are going to have a little talk about reckless driving.”

  Sister Agatha hurried over to the Harley. Right now all she wanted to do was get Natalie home—safe.

  Ten minutes later Sister Agatha stopped the Harley in front of the monastery gates and switched off the engine. “We’ll push the bike from here,” she said softly. “We don’t want to wake the sisters— if any of them actually managed to fall asleep.”

  Natalie nodded, still downcast, but helped Sister Agatha push the motorcycle through the entrance and over to the parking area.

  Pax beside them, they closed the gates and Sister Agatha locked up, noting that the girl hadn’t said a word since they’d left the hospital.

  “Natalie, don’t be sad. You did a wonderful thing tonight. You may not realize it but you brought hope back into the lives of some of the patients in that ICU ward.”

  “But I didn’t do anything,” she said.

  “Yes, you did. When you told those people about your angel, you re
minded them that there’s more to life than what you can see and touch. And by doing that, you healed their spirits. We all need to believe in something.”

  “But that’s not enough. I wanted Mom to get up and walk out with me.”

  “The fact that it didn’t happen may be a blessing in disguise, Natalie. When word gets around—and it will—that you can’t heal people, that will make things easier for you. People won’t be bothering you as much.”

  When they entered the parlor, Sister Bernarda was waiting.

  “Several sisters are still in the chapel praying. Let me go tell everyone you and Natalie are back safely.”

  “Thank you,” Sister Agatha said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll get Natalie into bed.”

  After making the girl promise that she’d never run away again, Sister Agatha turned off the lights and shut the door.

  “I’ll stay with her now,” Sister Bernarda whispered, having returned.

  Before Sister Agatha could answer, Reverend Mother came up to the grate. “Children, I’ve just received some exciting news. Jessica Tannen has regained consciousness. She’s still in serious condition and her memory is fuzzy, the way it can be with a mild stroke, but she’s finally opened her eyes and is apparently aware of her surroundings. Father Mahoney, who’s at the hospital now, called to give me the news.”

  A sense of foreboding filled her. “Did he know that Natalie was there earlier?” Sister Agatha asked.

  “Yes, and he wasn’t very happy when he heard,” she said. “But he’s sure that Natalie won’t be credited with a miracle. Her mother is still very confused and is having trouble processing any kind of information. And one of the patients Natalie touched passed away not long after she left. Under those unhappy circumstances, I don’t think anyone’s going to credit her with the gift of healing.” Reverend Mother exhaled softly. “Get some sleep, children. Matins will ring soon enough.”

 

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