Authors: Heaven
Bobbi Smith (16 page)
“But I’m her husband, Father. Have some pity on me.” He cast a knowing glance toward her bed. “Ah, my wedding night, and I’ll be sleeping alone.”
“Don’t feel so bad, I’m spending my wedding night alone, too,” she pointed out.
“Good night, wife,” Matt said as he regretfully followed the priest from the room.
“Good night, husband,” she said lightly as she closed the door behind them.
Winn and Matt settled in in their own room.
“Want another drink, Father?” Matt offered, holding the bottle out to Winn.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he accepted. He’d brought his glass with him and held it steady as Matt poured him another healthy dose. It had been a long time since he’d had champagne, and it was just what he needed tonight to ease the tension within him.
Winn was annoyed with himself. The moment he’d seen Matt kissing Alex and holding her so close, he’d wanted to tear them apart and blurt out the truth. It had taken all of his considerable willpower to remain silent. Winn downed the wine and asked for one more. Matt obliged as he, too, partook of another sampling.
Wearily, Winn wondered if there was a
Saint Winston.
If not, maybe he could nominate himself for canonization when this was all over and done.
Saint Winston.
If not, maybe he could nominate himself for canonization when this was all over and done.
Tomorrow, Winn thought, they would venture forth to the convent. He hoped they were in the right place and that it woudn’t be too difficult to figure out the next clue. He hoped they could get this treasure hunt over with as quickly as possible. He’d had just about all he could stand of playing the saint. He was tired of being under scrutiny every minute of every day, of having to watch his every word and move. He wanted his old freedom back. He wanted . . .
Winn paused in his slightly hazy musings. What did he want? A vision of Alex as she’d looked wearing the silken wrapper took shape in his mind. Right now, the one thing he wanted he couldn’t have. He drained his glass, got ready for bed, muttered a harsh good night to Matt, and rolled over to go to sleep.
Matt was paying little attention to Winn as he finished off the rest of the bottle. His thoughts were on his own situation. He was a married man. . .. After Valerie, he’d never thought it would happen. Matt reminded himself quickly that it hadn’t really happened. Though of course, this marriage was as real as Valerie’s had been. She didn’t love her husband, yet she’d married him. He didn’t love Alex either, but they were man and wife now. Perhaps, he mused in a champagne-induced fog, this was the way of life. Perhaps in the final scheme of things practicality meant more than love.
Though he’d never considered himself a particularly romantic man, the idea didn’t sit well with him. Shedding his clothes, he turned down the lamp and stretched out, closing his eyes. Matt’s last humorous, champagne-clouded thought as he drifted off was—some wedding night!
The three arrived at the convent just after nine the next morning. They were greeted warmly by a young novice and then shown to a darkly paneled room where they were told to wait for the mother superior. The room was large and furnished with a sofa and several chairs. The walls were unadorned save for a crucifix and several portraits of saints and martyrs. It was so quiet in the convent that they found themselves speaking in hushed tones.
“What if this isn’t the right place? What if she can’t help us?” Alex wondered aloud as she wandered around the room studying the paintings.
“Then we’ll start over and try somewhere else,” Matt answered.
Winn was standing looking out the large window that offered a view of the cemetery at the back of the convent when he heard the sound of footsteps echoing in the halls, coming their way. He turned toward the door just as a tall, stately woman appeared.
Clad in her black habit and veil with a large rosary tied at her waist, the mother superior was the picture of authority. Her features were regal, her bearing dignified. Her brown eyes mirrored the warmth of her inner being.
“Welcome to Sacred Heart Convent,” she greeted them, smiling in welcome as she moved forward into the room.
“Good morning, Reverend Mother,” Winn returned as he want to meet her. “I’m Father Bradford, and this is Alexandra and Matthew McKittrick.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all, but tell me. What brings you here to the Sacred Heart?”
“We’re here on a quest, Reverend Mother. We were hoping you could help us,” Winn explained.
“A quest?” A flicker of awareness shone in her eyes, but she quickly masked it.
Matt was watching her carefully, and he noticed the slight, momentary change in her expression. He said nothing, though, for he was certain Winn could handle the mother superior far better than he. Still, the indication that she might know what they were about encouraged him.
“Yes. According to everything that we’ve been able to find out, our quest begins here at your convent. Lawrence Anthony gave us books with clues and we . . .”
“Lawrence Anthony?” she repeated quickly as she gave each of them a hard look, searching their faces for some sign of deception.
“Yes, Reverend Mother. Lawrence sent us to you.”
“How is he?” she asked, her dark eyes glowing as she thought of the elderly gentleman who’d come to the convent a few years before. He’d been a kind and generous man. When he’d left, he’d asked her for her help and she’d agreed to follow his wishes without question.
“Lawrence passed away several months ago,” Alex told her.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. He was a good man.”
“We were all very fond of him.”
“Come,” she invited, “join me for some refreshments. We will talk more of Lawrence and this quest.”
As the Reverend Mother led the way to a small, sparsely furnished dining room, she thought of Lawrence and was saddened by his death. He’d been deeply troubled when he’d first come to her, but by the time he’d left, he’d seemed more content with his life. He’d certainly been good to the convent, endowing them with a yearly stipend and also setting up a trust in which the considerable amount of the money would be paid out to them once she’d completed the task he’d set for her.
As they sat down at the table, the Reverend Mother studied each of their faces. She’d waited all this time to hear from Lawrence again, and now, in his stead, came this priest and young married couple. Lawrence’s instructions to her had been clear: she was to test the hearts of those who followed him and give the book he’d left in her keeping only to those who were pure of heart. The Reverend Mother knew she could make no fast decision. She would have to wait and watch these three for a time, and see if they were worthy.
They were served tea and small cakes, and after they’d partaken of the food, the Reverend Mother was ready to hear more.
“Tell me how you came to the convent?”
“When Lawrence died, he left three books, one to each of us. The agreement was that we were to work together, and, using the clues he’d written in the books, we’d find the treasure he’d hidden,” Winn answered.
“I see.” And indeed she did, for Lawrence had shown her the ancient crown that these three young people sought.
“The crown’s been lost to us for thousands of years. We believe it’s time to put it safely in a museum where everyone can share in its glory,” Matt put in.
“Reverend Mother?” The novice who’d greeted them earlier spoke from the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but Sister Marian is waiting for you.”
“I’ll be right there.” She turned back to the three visitors. “Would you care to spend the night with us? We have room, and I’d enjoy having the time to spend with you.”
“Thank you. We would,” Alex accepted quickly.
“Good. I must go now, but I’ll speak with you later. You have the freedom of the grounds. If there’s anything you need, just ask one of the sisters. They’ll be happy to help you.”
“Thank you, Reverend Mother.”
“She knows more than she’s telling us,” Matt said after he was sure the mother superior was out of earshot.
“I don’t doubt it. Shall we take a look around and see what we can find?”
“While you two do that, I’ll go back to the hotel and get our things,” Matt offered. “We’ll meet back here at noon.”
Alex wandered outside while Winn headed for the chapel. The grounds around the convent were spacious, and it was easy to see that the sisters spent a lot of time working in the yard. Alex studied the exterior of the building, hoping to find some clue to the crown, but she found nothing unusual in the architecture. With a trained eye, she studied the layout of the building and the surrounding fence, but noted nothing out of the ordinary. These possibilities exhausted, she made her way toward the cemetery to study the headstones.
It was then, as she started toward the arched gateway that led to the sacred ground, that she saw the same woman, dressed in black, they’d seen the day before. Alex watched her slowly make her way through the rows of headstones until she stopped and knelt before a grave.
For a moment, Alex wavered, undecided about what to do. Then she finally made up her mind. By talking to the old lady, she might learn something pertinent about the convent. So, she quietly made her way through the rows of graves to join her.
“Hello,” Alex spoke softly, not wanting to disturb her for she looked to be deep in prayer.
The woman looked up, her expression troubled and said. “What? Do you want something?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me,” she said wearily, letting her gaze drop back to the stone. She gently touched it.
“I noticed you were here yesterday. Do you come often?”
“Every day.”
Alex couldn’t make out the dates, but she could see that there were two names on the tombstone—Steven Mark Andrews and Jonathan Andrews. “Was Steven your husband?”
“No. Steven was my son, my beautiful son . . .” Her voice fell flat, and her shoulders slumped under the weight of her memories. “Jonathan was my husband.”
It had been years ago, yet to the mother’s heart it still seemed like yesterday. Steven had been stricken by the deadly cholera. They’d tried everything to save him, but he’d only gotten worse and worse. That black, terrible night that he died still haunted her. There would be no forgetting her husband’s desperate search for Father O’Malley. They’d been so sure the priest could save Steven, if only he’d come in time. But Father O’Malley hadn’t come in time. Steven had died in her arms just before midnight. When the priest had finally arrived late the next morning, she’d no longer cared. He’d explained that he’d been with other dying children and hadn’t been able to leave them, but that hadn’t mattered to her or to her husband. What mattered was that he’d failed her in her hour of need. Two days later, when her Jonathan had taken ill, too, she’d traveled to the true depths of hell. She’d lost Jonathan in the same epidemic, and she had never forgiven Father O’Malley or the church. Her faith, once the wellspring of her happiness, had dried up, leaving her barren of hope and love, and bitter as she saw endless, black, empty days stretched out before her. She was alone in the world. The legacy of her loved ones’ deaths was a pointless existence of unending sorrow and pain.
“I’m so sorry,” Alex sympathized, breaking into her memories.
The old woman half-smiled, but it wasn’t one of happiness. “You’re too young. You don’t know anything about being sorry.”
Alex didn’t know what to say next, so she simply stood quietly with her.
“You’re not one of the sisters,” the woman remarked when she realized the younger woman wasn’t going to go away.
“No, my name’s Alexandra McKittrick.” She’d almost said Parker, but had caught herself in time.
“Why did you come here? Did you lose someone, too?”
“My father.” Alex thought of him in prison and felt how close he was to death. “I’ve come here with my husband and a friend to visit the convent. It’s a beautiful old building.”
“It’s just a building. It has no soul . . . no life.”
“Would you like to talk for a while?”
“No.” She stood up and turned to walk away. “Good-bye, my dear.”
Her gait was slow, and it was evident that she was ridden with physical pain as well as mental anguish. She knew there was no point in talking to this young girl. There was nothing left to say that hadn’t been already said. No one cared about her, and she cared about no one. It was simpler that way. You couldn’t be hurt. Her days passed in a dull blur, and that was fine with her. Soon, she hoped it would end, and she would be with Steven and John.
As Alex watched her go, her heart ached for the lonely old woman. She was deeply touched by her and wondered why she was so alone. Alex decided to seek out the mother superior and ask her. Surely, she would know something about this woman who came to the cemetery every day.
Winn was in the chapel, pondering the events that had brought him to this moment and wondering how in the world he was going to deal with the situation. He was trying to remember everything he’d ever been taught about nuns and convents and sleeping arrangements there, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall much.
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