Page 11

LANCASTER, PENNSYLVANIA, FIVE YEARS LATER.

“Phone charger?”

“Check.”

“Toiletries?”

“Check.”

“Rain boots?”

“I’ll wear them on the plane so I don’t have to pack them.”

Madeleine eyed her scruffy suitcase, which already appeared full-to-bursting even though she’d pared everything down as much as she could.

Who’d have thought a former nun could accumulate so many possessions?

She glanced over at her roommate, who sat on Madeleine’s bed as she read the packing list. Becca’s forehead creased in concentration, as if she were the one flying to Scotland on a hare-brained mission.

“Did I put anything on the list about bringing my sanity?” Madeleine asked.

Becca gave Madeleine a wry smile.

She’d been supportive of this adventure ever since it had been put in motion—the moment Madeleine had paid back the loan she’d taken from the Daughters of Grace to start her new life.

As soon as she’d signed the final check, she’d started putting her meager savings toward a trip to Orkney.

To find answers, if not her angel.

She’d miss the apartment, even if she’d only be gone for a month—plenty of time between her return and the start of school in mid-August. It had become a haven.

After all this time, Madeleine had managed to make her room reasonably homey, although it had taken a while to shake off her sense of austerity and put up a decoration or two.

Now there was a poster of her favorite bookstore in the French Quarter and an illustrated quotation from Emily Dickinson.

On the bureau sat an older photo of her with her parents and brother, taken when she was sixteen, only a couple of months before the car accident.

It was angled so that she couldn’t see it easily, but…

well, it was there. Meanwhile, a crucifix hung on the opposite wall so that she saw it as soon as she woke up.

Becca propped her elbows on her knees.

She was a widow in her early fifties, and five years ago she too had needed a fresh start—plus a cheap place to live while dealing with her late husband’s debts.

Madeleine had left Philadelphia both to save money and escape painful memories, but she hadn’t known anyone in Lancaster.

She and Becca had met on a site dedicated to finding roommates.

Together they’d grieved the end of their marriages: Becca’s to Mark and Madeleine’s to Christ. At first, Madeleine had been sure they’d never be able to relate to each other, but she should have known that kinship could form in unlikely places.

Becca had become a kind of sister when Madeleine needed one most, and she’d done her best to return the favor.

Too bad Becca couldn’t come along to Orkney and make sure Madeleine didn’t fall into the clutches of a supernatural force, but somebody had to stay home and feed the cat.

“How’re you feeling, hon?” Becca asked.

Madeleine gave a rueful laugh.

“Scared senseless. But excited. And kind of in shock.”

Becca nodded solemnly.

“There’s only one place that can hold all of those feelings at once.”

“Oh no,” Madeleine said immediately.

“I’m saving every penny.”

“Relax, it’s on me. You can’t go off to the land of haggis without one last taste of great American cuisine.”

Twenty minutes later, they sat in their booth at Applebee’s, ordering their usual drinks.

They’d started coming here as a joke—a tacky chain restaurant was so incongruous with Becca’s grief and the minimalist life Madeleine had fled.

The joke had turned serious, and now Applebee’s was their Friday night routine.

Life on the outside, so to speak, had been strange at first. When Madeleine had left the convent, she hadn’t drunk alcohol in years outside of the rare feast day.

Nor had she worn secular clothing, gone grocery shopping alone, or slept in her own room.

Strangest of all had been the excess of time, when once her hours had been full of fellowship.

At first, she’d cried so often from loneliness that she’d wondered if she’d made the worst mistake of her life.

Becca had helped with that too.

After they’d had a couple of weeks to get used to each other, she’d proposed some “retail therapy,” and they’d gone to Goodwill.

It had been surreal to don a form-fitting sweater, to say nothing of a pair of jeans.

She’d spent decades basically pretending not to have a body and hadn’t realized how it would feel to see it again.

Madeleine, with only two skirts and three blouses to her name, had looked at herself in the mirror and seen a woman with shapely limbs, pleasing curves, and a head of short, dark, wavy hair.

For the first time, she’d thought, Maybe this can work .

Now her hair was long enough to fall just past her shoulders, and she’d expanded her sweater collection considerably, along with other items. She even had a couple of necklaces that weren’t crucifixes.

The server dropped off their beverages, and Madeleine raised her pink margarita glass into the air.

“I’ll miss you.”

“Just me? Not a word for Booster?”

“Don’t let him throw up hairballs in my room while I’m gone.”

Becca grinned and raised her sangria.

“I’ll miss you too. To your adventure. May the next month be life-changing, but in a nice way.”

Madeleine’s heart gave a little thump at the thought.

She’d wondered so often if returning to Orkney would change her life, if anything would actually happen—or if it had already happened.

Maybe the…visitation she’d experienced had just been meant to show her that she wasn’t living the right life.

It had been so painful to leave the Daughters of Grace, but years later, that pain had lessened.

Her new life had its satisfactions, she still went faithfully to mass, and she wasn’t living a lie anymore.

Maybe that was the whole ball of wax.

No, that couldn’t be right.

Madeleine had realized she wasn’t meant to be a nun, but it couldn’t stop there.

Not when she’d actually been ordered to go back.

Return to me .

They clinked their glasses and drank, but then Becca’s expression turned solemn.

“You’ll be careful, right?”

“Of course I will. I’ve been planning this for ages. I didn’t come this far just to get myself in a pickle at the last minute.”

Becca looked worried.

Or maybe that was just the yellowish lighting from the lamp that hung dangerously low over the table.

“I know, but that’s the reason you’re going, right? The ‘pickle’ from last time, whatever it was.”

Madeleine had never told anyone the entire truth about her angel.

The closest she’d come was with Becca, who was also a faithful Catholic, if more prone to left-wing sentiments than anyone Madeleine had known in her previous life.

It was a year before she’d told her roommate that she’d had an “extraordinary experience” in Orkney that “hadn’t quite seemed of this world” and had taken it as a sign “for a new beginning.” Becca had been fascinated, but as the date for Madeleine’s return to Orkney approached, that fascination had morphed into apprehension.

“I’ll be as careful as I can be, but we weren’t given a spirit of fear,” Madeleine reminded her.

“No, but we were given common sense. You’ve got plenty except when it comes to this, so I thought a last-minute reminder wouldn’t hurt. Especially if you really are messing with supernatural stuff.” Becca narrowed her eyes.

“And you can’t poke a ghost in the eye with a needle.”

Madeleine smiled.

With an abundance of time after leaving Sacred Heart, she’d needed a hobby.

Embroidery had been her choice.

She’d told herself she was stitching her life back together with every threaded flower petal and Bible verse.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better. Want to order the mozzarella sticks?”

Madeleine hid a grimace.

She’d rather arrive at the Philadelphia airport with a peacefully settled stomach.

“Pass.”

Silence fell for a moment while she and Becca looked at each other.

For the first time in a while, words seemed hard to come by.

Becca ran a hand through her curly salt-and-pepper hair and laughed awkwardly.

“So…if there was ever a moment for you to tell me about what exactly happened there last time…”

“I can’t.” Madeleine’s hand clenched on her margarita glass.

“I told you, you’d think I was crazy.”

“I doubt it. I think you’re dealing with something that really happened. And I’m your friend.”

Becca reached across the table and took Madeleine’s hand.

Suddenly, Madeleine was back in Sacred Heart, watching Mother Gertrude take Sister Catherine’s hand in just the same way.

In comfort, an appeal to sisterhood.

She wasn’t going to tear up.

That’d just be pitiful.

“I know you are. One of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

“Is that why it’s hard to tell me?”

That was the problem with good friends: they could see through you.

Madeleine sighed, “Maybe.”

“Hon, you’ve spent the last five years of your life trying to undo the previous fifteen. And you still don’t quite know yourself yet.” Becca squeezed her hand and let go.

“That’s okay, but I sometimes think you’re waiting for this trip to tell you.”

Ouch.

Did anything hit as hard as the truth?

But on the other hand, if a divine visitation…

or whatever that had been…

couldn’t tell you who you were meant to be, then what could?

Therapy, Becca would say for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time, Madeleine would reply, Maybe later .

The days were gone when they could lock you up for babbling about angels, but that didn’t mean a therapist wouldn’t try to talk her out of believing it.

“There might be some truth to that,” she said slowly.

“Maybe that’s the question.”

“The question?”

How was she to put this into words, when it was so hard to articulate even to herself?

“I’m going to Jorsay to find answers. But if you asked me what the question is, I don’t know that I could tell you.” She propped her elbow on the table and frowned at the pink dregs of her drink.

“I wasn’t meant for this philosophical stuff.”

“Sometimes the philosophical stuff finds us.”

“I like to take action. I’ve had to twiddle my thumbs over this for years. Now I can finally go, and…” Madeleine looked at Becca, silently pleading for her friend to have some answers.

“And I wonder if I even know what to look for. If it’ll come in a form I recognize. What if I miss it?”

Or what if it’s not there at all?

No. She wouldn’t go there.

Something was calling her back to Jorsay.

It had literally said, “Return to me.” How unambiguous could you get?

“You won’t miss it.” Becca spoke so sincerely that it was easy to believe her.

“I think you’ll find what you’re looking for, even if it’s not what you were expecting. And then you’ll come home and tell me all about it. Or while it’s happening,” she added.

“You got that international phone plan, right?”

“Yes. I’ll keep you updated,” Madeleine promised.

“And I’ll send pictures. It’s beautiful even when it’s overcast. Which seems to be most of the time.”

“But it’s June! Won’t it be nice and sunny?”

Madeleine only shook her head and laughed.

Becca sighed. “Maybe your next trip will take you somewhere sunny. When you get back, let’s talk about a Caribbean cruise next year, okay? There are some good deals.” Becca rested her chin in her hand and gave Madeleine a knowing look.

“Unless you change your mind about dating when you get back and have something else to do. No, no, don’t give me that look—just, if this trip is about examining your priorities, then maybe you’ll examine all of them.”

Madeleine wasn’t going to squirm.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say that not everyone is meant to be partnered. I’m fine. Don’t aim at the speck in my eye until you’ve pulled out the log in your own.”

Becca shrugged.

“I date. It’s not my fault the pickings are slim, especially at my age.”

“Then what makes you think it’ll be different for me? I’m forty-one years old. Not exactly a spring chicken.”

“There’s a difference between forty-one and fifty-three. If you don’t know that now, then you will. Besides…” Becca appeared to hesitate.

“You and I might be looking for different things. And nothing’s wrong with that.”

Madeleine’s stomach went cold.

She’d never told Becca about her feelings for women.

Becca might have guessed, though.

Madeleine had refused to date since leaving the order but declined to say why.

And Becca would never judge—she’d once made a point of saying gay people deserved to be as happy as anybody else.

Madeleine, her face burning, had changed the subject as soon as possible.

There were Catholic believers and theologians who didn’t condemn homosexuality.

In fact, when she was a trembling teen, Madeleine had said as much to her father, but he had replied, firmly, that there were no “cafeteria Catholics” in their family: so-called believers who picked and chose the doctrines they wanted to follow.

It was all true, or none of it was.

Now her father was dead, along with the rest of her family, and that conversation was over forever, along with every other conversation.

Her parents sat eternally in their disappointment, because now they knew everything.

Her brother, David, would never grow up, give her a hug, and say he loved her no matter what.

It never stopped hurting.

“Well, that’s all I’ve got to say about that,” Becca said, jolting Madeleine out of her abrupt melancholy.

“Did you check in for your flight?”

The cold in Madeleine’s stomach warmed a little.

She should look to the future, not dwell in the past. “Yes. A few hours ago.”

Becca grinned.

“That’s my girl.”

It was a sweet phrase, but for some reason, Madeleine got a shiver up and down her spine.

She imagined a low-pitched, feminine voice whispering in her ear, You’re not her girl .

You’re mine .

As usual, heat leaped to her face, and in a couple of other places too.

Was that better than icy misery?

Lord have mercy. She really would have to work to keep from making a fool out of herself on this trip.

“And the hotel’s all lined up?” Becca continued.

“Everything’s ready to go?”

“Totally ready,” Madeleine said.

She’d be staying at the same bare-bones hotel the Sacred Heart group had stayed in.

Six years on, and it was still the only hotel on Jorsay.

“Sounds like you’re all set. We’re leaving for the airport at…” Becca winced.

“Six-thirty, you said?”

It took well over an hour to drive from Lancaster to the Philadelphia airport, and there was no way Madeleine was missing her flight.

“Yes. God bless you. I appreciate it.”

“Happy to do it, sweetie. That’s what friends are for, right? Helping each other.”

“Yes.” Madeleine glanced through the window at the headlights of passing cars, at the lit-up shopping center across the street.

Ordinary people living ordinary lives.

The life she’d come back to in a month, hopefully with her head sorted out at last. “That’s what friends are for.”

Philadelphia International Airport was nobody’s idea of heaven, but at least it was familiar.

Right now, standing at the curb while she said goodbye, Madeleine thought it would take all her courage to leave her friend and step into the unknown.

“You got everything?” Becca asked anxiously.

“Passport?” Becca had no children, but she seemed to have a maternal instinct to lavish on Madeleine.

Madeleine patted her purse.

“Passport’s at the ready.”

“Great. If you got that, your boarding pass, and your credit card, then you can figure out everything else as you go.” She clapped Madeleine on the shoulder.

“Text me when you land. Every time.”

That would be several texts, considering there were no direct flights to Orkney from Philadelphia, or pretty much anywhere else.

“Sure, I’ll…”

A car behind them honked, anxious to pull up to the curb in their spot, and Becca called to it, “All right, already!” She turned back to Madeleine with a smile.

“Be careful, hon. But also have some fun, okay? This is a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and you deserve to enjoy yourself.”

That didn’t sound easy.

“I’ll do my best.”

“And try not to sleep on the plane. The time difference?—”

Another honk, longer than the first one.

“I hate Philly,” Becca groaned.

“Okay, come here.”

She and Madeleine threw their arms around each other.

For just a second, Madeleine permitted herself to squeeze her friend, to take all the comfort in the embrace that she could, before the voice that had haunted her for a lifetime whispered: Stop it.

It’s wrong .

“Give Booster extra pets for me,” she whispered.

“You got it.” Becca held her tighter.

Madeleine let go, her heart racing.

She wasn’t the least bit attracted to Becca, but that voice—old, cold—was nearly impossible to silence.

“Right. Goodbye.”

“Bye, hon. I’ll say a prayer for you. Text me!”

After yet another promise that she would, Madeleine dragged her suitcase to the glass doors while Becca drove away.

The doors parted before her, but she stood still, her heart hammering.

The same old voice murmured, It’s not too late to turn back .

Turn back.

For once, she managed to silence it.

However cruelly persuasive it could be, its power dwindled to nothing compared to the voice from the sea.

Return to me .

Madeleine set her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

“All right,” she whispered.

“Whoever you are, I’m coming.”

And with one deep inhalation for courage, she stepped through the door on her way to the sky.