We filled our plates, then went in search of Dominica. We found her at a table with Sister Miriam, a thin-faced woman with hair the color of autumn oak leaves and an intense, darting glance. As I sat down, I saw a look pass
between Maggie and Dominica. I thought I understood that look now, and the softening at the comers of Maggie's mouth when Dominica returned her smile. Love is love, wherever you find it. The trouble is that some kinds of love are hard to fit into our lives. The glance wasn't missed by Sister Miriam, either, who turned away, her face unreadable.
We were still getting settled when we were joined by Sister Rachel, who was short, plump, and all in a dither. Her nose and eyes were red and she seemed distraught, not so much over Perpetua's death, but over the fact that her body had been taken away.
"We have a very special ritual when a sister dies," she explained to Ruby and me. "Our infirmarian-that's Sister Rowena-washes our dead sister and dresses her. Then we carry her to the chapel and light the paschal candle and take turns reciting the Psalms. It's all very beautiful, very reassuring. To have poor Perpetua hauled off like a dead cow…" She shook her head, despairing. "It happened the same way with Mother Hilaria. So horrible! Where will all this end?"
"With a new abbess, unfortunately." The angularity of Miriam's face was matched by her thin voice. "Unless a miracle happens, we'll be voting before compline tomorrow."
"We should have prayed harder for Perpetua," Dominica muttered.
I seconded that. Maybe Perpetua couldn't have told me anything more than I already knew about the letter she'd received. On the other hand…
"There won't be an election tomorrow," Maggie said, buttering her roll.
"Oh, really?" Miriam asked dryly. "With Perpetua dead, the score is nineteen to twenty. Just in time, too. Olivia is getting tired of holding her breath."
Who would want to kill poor old Sister Perpetua? Miriam had just given me an answer to Maggie's rhetorical
question. But that was ridiculous. Nuns only killed other nuns in murder mysteries.
"I'm afraid Olivia will have to hold her breath a little longer," Maggie said. "There are still twenty votes for Ga-briella." Everybody was looking at her, but she didn't seem to notice. "I asked Mother Winifred if I could come back to St. T's, and she said yes. It's up to the Council of Sisters, of course, and Reverend Mother General has to agree, but Mother says there won't be a problem."
Miriam didn't look overjoyed. "Reverend Mother will jump on the idea like a duck on a Junebug," she said, "even if it does put Olivia on hold a while longer. The order needs every vocation it can get."
Ignoring Miriam, Dominica clasped her hands, her round face shining. "Oh, Margaret Mary, I'm so glad! I've missed you so much. We've all missed you!"
Ruby was gaping. "But what about your restaurant? You've put two years of work into it, Maggie, You can't just turn your back and walk away!"
"Why not?" Maggie's face was sober but her blue eyes were twinkling. "It's just a restaurant. No big deal." She patted Ruby's hand. "This is right for me, Ruby. I belong here."
Ruby subsided, muttering. She enjoys an occasional retreat, but she also loves her fun. She would find life in a monastery unutterably boring.
I searched Maggie's face for a hint to how she was feeling, but all I could see was her normal serene calm. Her announcement wasn't totally unexpected, of course. She'd been telegraphing it all day. I hoped she was coming back for the right reasons, but I had to wonder.
"I don't suppose you're doing this to keep Olivia from being elected," Miriam remarked. She was watching Maggie obliquely, and I wondered how much she knew about the relationship between Maggie and Dominica. She herself was linked with Dominica, at least in the poison-pen
writer's imagination. I studied her more closely. Was there a hint of jealousy in her look?
I wasn't surprised when Maggie answered Miriam's question with a firm, clear "Of course not." If Maggie had another motive, she probably wouldn't share it-and certainly not in response to such an obvious challenge.
Sister Rachel cast innocent eyes around the table. ' 'Why in the world should anyone want to keep Olivia from being elected? She isn't my choice, but if she's elected, it will be God's will."
"Really, Rachel," Dominica said impatiently. "You know better than that. God doesn't will everything that happens. He wasn't responsible for the fire in the chapel, for instance. Some bad person did that."
Rachel was half-frowning. "But the person who set the fires… couldn't she-if it is a she, I mean-couldn't that person be carrying out God's will? There is a larger purpose in all things, even if we can't always see it." She paused, took a deep breath, and then plunged deeper into the muddy theological waters. "The person who is setting the fires could be an agent of God. Who are we to question? Who are we to know?'
Miriam hadn't been paying any attention to Rachel. She leaned across the table toward Maggie. ' 'If you're coming back to keep Olivia from taking over, it won't do a dime's bit of good, Margaret Mary. You may stall her for a while, but sooner or later she and Reverend Mother will get what they want. Unless we do something about it, St. T's is doomed."
The last melodramatic sentence rang into the dead silence that had fallen suddenly over the room. Miriam raised her head and looked around, her cheeks reddening. Mother Winifred was standing at a table near the front of the room. She was so short that I had to move my chair to be able to see her.
"I am sure you have all heard that Sister Perpetua died this afternoon," she said with dignity. "Father Steven will
celebrate a Requiem Mass later in the week. In the meantime, following our tradition, we will say prayers in the chapel for Sister Perpetua's soul." She didn't mention the fact that Sister Perpetua's body would be somewhere else.
When she finished, she introduced me and told the sisters that I was there to look into the fires. She paused for a moment, looked around at her silent audience, and added, "I am sorry to tell you that letters of a quite destructive nature have been delivered to several of our sisters." She spoke in measured, emphatic phrases. "This unfortunate business must be brought out into the light. If you have received such a letter or have any information about the writer, I request-no, I direct you to speak to me or to Ms. Bayles immediately."
I watched the sisters as she spoke. Their eyes were on Mother Winifred, their faces expressionless, with that look of calm serenity I was beginning to think of as a convenient camouflage. If one of them had received a letter or had written one, the guilty knowledge was not written on her face.
The night sky was lit by a sliver of low-hanging moon when Maggie, Ruby, and I walked in the direction of the cottages, our flashlight beams glancing along the path in front of us. We were all shivering in the frosty January air. As if by mutual agreement, we said nothing about Maggie's decision to return to St. T's, although Ruby must have been quivering with curiosity and I still wasn't convinced that Maggie didn't have an ulterior motive. I couldn't help noticing, though, that her step was lighter and she was smiling. Whatever burden she'd been carrying she seemed to have left behind.
But there was something else on my mind. I was trying to puzzle out what to do about the shooting that afternoon. Had it been accidental or deliberate? The answer to that question-if there was an answer-was on the Townsend side of the river.
I caught up to Maggie. "What's the best way to get to the top of the cliff?"