Page 21

Matthew walked the quiet streets of the small town, wiping his brow every few steps. When he came upon the church, he walked inside, touching his fingers to the holy water and crossing himself as he entered.

Taking a seat in one of the middle pews, he listened as the choir practiced, singing in beautiful harmony one of his favorite songs. He let the music float over him, covering him in feelings of peace and blissfulness.

“That’s enough everyone. We’ll practice again tomorrow,” said the woman. She turned to see the gentlemen fanning himself with his hat and frowned.

“Get me a bottle of water,” she said to one of the other women. The woman scurried away, bringing the bottle back to her.

“You look hot and tired,” she smiled handing him the bottle. She was at least as old as Matthew’s grandsons, or so he thought.

“That’s kind of you,” he said. “I saw the church and thought it was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Our convent is attached to the church. Most of those women you were listening to are young novices. They’ll be nuns soon enough.”

“I see. And you’re the Mother Superior?” he asked.

“Oh, no. Not me. I’m Sister Frances. I’ve just been here forever,” she smiled, nodding. “It was my true calling. I can’t show you the inner sanctum of the convent, but would you like a tour of our gardens and the church? It’s very old.”

“I’d love that,” nodded Matthew.

“You seem familiar to me,” she said. “Do I know you?”

“No, no, not me,” he smiled. “I live much further south. I’m just passing through here.”

“I see,” she nodded, uncertain of her strange feelings. “Well, as you can see we’ve got flower gardens, but also vegetable gardens that we use to feed our staff and our community should they need it. We’ve been very fortunate here.”

“You know, I have six daughters of my own. None wanted to follow a path into the church, which was fine with me, but I wonder what makes a young woman choose this path,” he said.

“Well, for many it’s a true calling from God. They only want to serve him. For others, it’s a family thing. Perhaps generations have sent their first or second born to become priests or nuns. Still others choose because of poverty or, or other reasons.”

“Like violence,” he said staring at the woman. She stared back at him, swallowing hard.

“I s-suppose that could be true. I don’t know.”

Matthew nodded at her and took a seat on the bench beneath the crepe myrtle tree. She sat at the other end of the bench, folding her hands in her lap uncomfortably.

“You know, I’m a man that owes everything in my life to God. I believe that, truly. Yes, I’ve had great luck, a beautiful, intelligent wife, fifteen wonderful children, but it was all through Him that it was possible.”

“That’s very enlightened,” she smiled.

“I’ve been blessed with an ability to know when people are telling me the truth or not.” The woman fidgeted, turning to stare at the old man. What was his game? “You’re not telling me the truth.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said quietly. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yes, ma’am, I guess I am. You know very well why women choose to be here. Why you would come to a place like this? For instance, you might have been a young girl with her whole world ahead of her. School, marriage, anything your heart desired.

“Then one night coming home from the movie theater with friends, you stop to have a milkshake at the old drive-in that used to be at the end of the road.”

She startled, turning with a gasp and Matthew touched her arm, willing her to stay.

“There were men on motorcycles. Big men that looked scary, dangerous, but you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t flirt but you didn’t discourage the men from speaking with you. Your friends got scared and left you. They left you with more than a dozen men.

“The drive-in got scared and closed their doors, leaving you alone with all those men. It was horrible for you. I know that it was. Those men abused you, abused your body and left you in shame, naked on the side of the road.

“When the sheriff found you, he took you home to your parents’ horror. They were going to send you away for a while. Somewhere that no one would know you. Until after the baby was born.”

She stared at him, swallowing as tears filled her eyes.

“Turns out, you were sent to another convent. You were forced to have that baby, give him away, and then join the convent. This wasn’t your calling. It wasn’t what you wanted and for years now you’ve counseled young pregnant women to give up their babies, no matter what their situation, and then forced them to become nuns. When Sister Agatha was attacked, it was different. She was too old to become pregnant but you couldn’t allow her to stay here.”

“H-how do you know all of this? Who are you?” she asked staring at his angelic face.

“Oh, I know a great many things,” he said smiling. “Like that you are the mother to Weaver Crup. Harry Clayton raped you and impregnated you. You actually ran away once upon a time and asked him to marry you. He laughed at you. I know that must have hurt. He’d taken the child from his adoptive parents and was raising him in his motorcycle club.

“But when you found out it was your own son and his father that raped and beat Sister Agatha, you wanted to hide that.”

“I never meant to harm her,” she said shaking her head at her folded hands. “I just wanted her to drop the charges. He’s my son.”

“He was your son,” said Matthew. “He died in prison, just a few days ago.” She gasped, shaking her head again.

“No, please no,” she said quietly.

“You were willing to put that young woman through hell, the same hell you suffered, just to keep your son and his father, both of whom wanted nothing do with you, nor cared for you, to allow them to walk free. You knew they were guilty. You had footage of their guilt because you were there in the grocery store as well.

“You saw them come into town and you knew who they were. You followed them into the store, not realizing that Sister Agatha was there. You watched them. You watched what they did to her and you said nothing.”

“There is nothing to be done! I couldn’t have stopped them,” she cried.

“You could have helped Sister Agatha. You could have supported her in her fight instead of making her lose her faith. You chose two men who cared nothing for you or your life, or for the life of any woman for that matter. You went against every vow you took. Why?”

She just softly cried beside him, Matthew still holding her arm to ensure she didn’t run.

“Why?” he asked more firmly.

“Because I love them! I always hoped he would return for me,” she sniffed. “I know it sounds crazy. He raped me, beat me, but he made me feel more alive than anyone ever. I’ve waited for him to return for me. Except he didn’t. He came that day only to create trouble. All the times he came back to scare Sister Agatha or that attorney of hers, he never once came to find me. I even waved at him once. I waved at him!”

Matthew nodded, placing his hat back on his head. He stepped from beneath the shade of the tree and looked at the woman.

“I believe you have some decisions to make. God will be watching to see what you do. So will I.”

“Wh-who are you?” she pleaded. “Please tell me who you are.”

Matthew bent at the waist, gripping the woman’s neck and kissed her forehead. He whispered something to her and then walked away.

It was nearly three hours later that the sisters found her seated in the gardens. Worried about her mental state and her inability to speak, they called an ambulance and began to pray.

She was already praying for her soul.

Jenna was in her favorite spot, sitting in the garden and soaking in the smells and sounds of nature around her. It was the most peaceful place on earth and if she could just disappear here, she would die happy.

“How are you feeling?” asked Matthew.

“Oh, hello Matthew. I’m feeling well, thank you.”

“Are you?” he asked. She looked up at him and the smile faded from her face. “I mean no disrespect, Jenna but you’re not alright. You won’t be alright until you tell the whole story.”

“I-I don’t know the whole story.” Matthew tilted his head.

“You know, I went to visit the convent today. I had a wonderful talk with Sister Frances.” She tried to stand but something was holding her in place. She couldn’t move. “I wondered why you wouldn’t tell anyone that she was there, in the grocery store watching what was done to you, yet she said and did nothing.”

“Sh-she told me her story. She told me who those men were,” said Jenna. “She begged me not to go to trial. At first, I agreed. I said I wouldn’t do that to them, but that she needed to tell the others about it. She said she would but she lied. She didn’t tell anyone and I was left alone, ostracized by my community.”

“That’s why you left the convent?”

“Partly,” she nodded. “I never belonged there, Matthew. I have faith. I am a good Catholic. I believe in God but that is not the life for me.”

“You knew what happened to her was the same as what happened to you,” he said calmly.

“Yes. I knew. Which was why I couldn’t fault her decision to try and save her son. I was trying to do what God might have wanted me to do but it all felt wrong and I was confused.”

“You were confused because no one would ever ask you to harbor a rapist, attacker, or killer. No one. She was manipulating you at a time when you needed her guidance.”

“Did you tell the others?” she asked.

“No. It’s your legal team and you need to do that. I can’t force you.”

“Nash will hate me,” she whispered. Matthew actually chuckled at that, shaking his head.

“Honey, there is nothing that you could say or do that would make that man hate you. He cares for you.” She nodded.

“We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Friends.” Matthew stood and began to walk out of the gardens when she called him back.

“Matthew? How did you know?”

He just gave a golden smile and she felt a chill go up her spine. There was true magic in this place. The kind that Jenna would never understand.