Messy? I wondered if it was the "messy business" Mother had mentioned. He fell silent for a minute, while I debated whether to ask him if the failure of his marriage was one of the things that had brought him back to Carr.
"That bit about our falling wildly in love again," he said, interrupting my thoughts. "It's not outside the realm of possibility."
"Yes, it is," I said. "I'm committed."
He grinned. ' 'You are?'' The question just missed being a challenge.
I tried to pull my hand away, but he was holding it tightly. He drew me against him. "We'll just see about that," he murmured, and kissed me hard, long.
The kiss fanned a spark of body-memory I had thought was long extinguished. I pushed him away. "I need to go," I said. "I have to talk to Mother Winifred before supper."
"You haven't changed a bit, have you," he said, and grinned.
I caught Mother Winifred in her herb garden at twilight, a half hour before the supper bell. She was trimming the lower branches from a young chaste tree, its trunk still pale gray, unfurrowed.
"Did you know that the seeds of this tree used to be used to fend off temptation?'' she asked, holding out a bundle of reddish brown twigs. ' 'People called it the Tree of Chastity."
I thought of Tom's kiss. "Maybe we could use a little of it these days." I told her what I had learned from J. R. Nutall, and what I had concluded about Dwight's guilt. "The case is entirely circumstantial," I added, "which means that the county attorney probably won't prosecute."
"Well, then, what do you suggest?" she asked.
"I think we should let things ride for tonight," I said. "Tomorrow morning, I'll drive into town and talk with Deputy Walters. Is there a car I can borrow?"
Mother pulled down one of the slender branches and clipped it. "We have two cars, but I'm afraid that both are in use. Sister Rowena has one, and Sister Olivia the other. Dwight drives our GMC, of course-he's taken it to town this evening. But there is another truck you can use. It may be past its prime, but it works fine."
"Thanks," I said. I could drive over to Sadie Marsh's ranch as well, and tomorrow evening, drive into town for dinner with Tom and his dad. "Since Dwight's an ex-felon, his prints are on file. If they match any prints on the cigarette pack or the cartridge case, the deputy and the county attorney will decide whether there's enough to make an assault charge stick. They may decide not to arrest him at all."
Mother piled the clipped branches together. "In which case I'll simply discharge him." She smiled. "It will be an enormous relief to stop worrying about the place burning down around our ears." She picked up her pruning shears. "If you can only resolve the other matter as handily, all my prayers will have been answered."
"I'm afraid it's not going to be quite so simple, Mother." We turned to walk toward the cottage. "I'll know more after I've talked to Olivia and John Roberta, though."
Mother glanced up at me. "That may take a while, my dear."
"Why?"
She paused to replace a rock that had been jostled out of the border and onto the path. ' 'Because neither of them are here. John Roberta suffers from asdima, you see, and she had an attack after Mass this morning. Her inhalator couldn't be found, and she was getting worse, so Rowena drove her to the Carr County Hospital for treatment. She'll be there at least another day, perhaps more. Dr. Townsend apparently wants to do some tests."
I frowned. "Did you talk to Townsend yourself?"
"No. Rowena handles that sort of thing." She glanced at me. "Why are you asking?"
I was asking because early this morning, John Roberta had sought me out, anxious to tell me something that Sister Rowena might consider "disloyal." A few hours later, Sister Rowena had spirited her away. Those two events seemed entirely too coincidental to suit me. And what was this business about the inhalator being misplaced?
But that was beside the point, at least for the moment. If John Roberta was in the hospital, it shouldn't be all that difficult to talk to her. I could do it tomorrow morning, after I talked to Stu Walters. In the meantime…
Mother put her basket beside the cottage door. "What about Olivia?" I asked, following her into the cottage. "She isn't here either?"
Mother went to the small bathroom to wash her hands in the basin. "She's been summoned to the motherhouse at El Paso," she said through the open door, "to confer with Reverend Mother General. She drove into Austin this morning and caught a plane. She'll be back Tuesday morning."
"Isn't that rather unusual-for a sister to see the Mother General?"
"Before the merger, Olivia was St. Agatha's abbess," Mother reminded me. She sighed as she dried her hands. "I imagine they're planning strategy."
"Strategy?"
"For the election. Reverend Mother will probably telephone tomorrow with word that we should vote as soon as possible."
"But I thought Maggie's return-"
Mother Winifred came back into the room, pursing her lips. "Reverend Mother has approved Margaret Mary's petition to resume her vocation, on the condition that her voting privileges be suspended for a year. Until she's sure she wants to stay, that is." She sighed again. "A perfectly reasonable suggestion."
On the face of it, yes. But given Reverend Mother General's motives… "I suppose that means that Sister Olivia will be elected?"
"I suppose." Mother dropped into a chair. I noticed how pale she looked, her skin the color of old ivory. "I'm sorry to see the changes coming."
"But you're not willing to oppose them?"
Mother shook her head tiredly. "Hilaria would have, I'm sure." Her shoulders slumped; her voice was muffled. "But opposing Reverend Mother's authority goes against everything I've been taught. And I'm seventy years old. I'm ready to step aside and let someone else do this work."
I frowned. "I still think-"
"Don't you understand?" Mother Winifred raised her head. "After Olivia has taken over, my time will be my own. See that clump of lemongrass?" She pointed. "I forgot to dig it up and the frost killed it. Next year, when Olivia is doing this job-and doing it quite well, I'm confident-that won't happen. She and Reverend Mother General have assured me that the herb garden-especially the
apothecary's garden-will be one of the conference center's major assets."
I was beginning to sense some of the pressure that had been brought to bear on Mother Winifred. But there was another side to the argument, and I pressed it. "Don't you feel you have an obligation, if not to St. Theresa's, then to Mrs. Laney and Mother Hilaria? If it's possible to preserve their dream for this place, shouldn't you try?"
Mother Winifred gave me a small smile. ' 'Sadie is perfectly capable of preserving Helen Laney's dream. And to tell the truth, there's very little I can do."
I thought of what Tom had said. "But without your help, Sadie will be in the minority. She needs you."
Mother's voice firmed. "If God wants St. Theresa's to be a contemplative house, my dear, that's what it will be, no matter what Reverend Mother and Olivia have in mind. If He prefers us to operate a retreat center here, that's what we will have, regardless of what Sadie Marsh and Sister Gabriella want." Her eyes softened. "I feel He prefers me to look after the lemongrass."
I could hardly argue with God. There was a space of silence, then she said, "Before we go to supper, please tell me: Have you learned anything about the letters?''
"Two things," I said. "The letter-writer had nothing to do with the sacrifice of Anne's swimsuit."