Rueful Death (26 page)

And that was the essential paradox in this whole business, it seemed to me. Mrs. Laney's gift, which she had hoped would free the monastery to pursue its contemplative ends, had almost destroyed it. In the Church as in the rest of the world, the prospect of money fosters greed and cov-etousness. Like a capital-rich corporation ripe for takeover or a bride with an enticing dowry, a wealthy St. Theresa's was a prime target. Poor, it was safe, a prize nobody wanted. With neither money nor land at stake, the sisters who wished to live quietly and contemplatively could go on growing garlic. The others would be free to go to one of the order's sister houses, where they might find a different way to serve. Olivia and Regina, I was sure, would be the first to leave. And with their going, the terrible chasm that had divided the community could be bridged, and it could become whole once more.

Dominica stepped through the gate. ' 'Mother, this phone message just came for you." She handed Mother a folded piece of paper. "If you have any questions, I'm supposed to phone the office and tell the secretary-"

Mother Winifred scanned the note. "No," she said, "no questions. Thank you, Sister."

When Dominica had gone, Tom extended his hand to Mother Winifred. "I'll be in touch in a couple of days to set up the agenda for the next board meeting." He turned to me. "Will I be seeing you again before you leave, China?"

The question hung in the air between us, real, challenging. The moments we'd shared in the hospital and our secret knowledge about what had happened between Tom's father and Sadie Marsh had created a new and special kind of intimacy, had forged a bond that was even stronger than the very real physical attraction I still felt for him. It would be easy to say yes and discover what deeper intimacies might grow between us.

But if I had learned anything in the last few days, it was

the importance of being true to the one true thing that centers my life.

So I said, "No thanks, Tom. I want to spend the rest of my time here getting some rest. And doing some thinking." I'd already done a little bit of both, enough to realize that the only thing wrong with my life was an overabundance of
good
things. All I needed to do was search out the center-the thing I wanted most to be, wanted most to have and do-and use it as a compass.

He nodded, bent over, and kissed my cheek. "I'm in your debt, China. If you ever need a loan-''

"Thanks," I said, and grinned. "There's nothing like having your own personal banker."

When Tom had gone, Mother Winifred looked down at the paper folded between her fingers. "It seems that today is a day for coming to conclusions. The message that Sister Dominica brought-it's the result of Sister Perpetua's autopsy. There was no trace of digitalis in her system. She died of simple cardiac arrest." She lifted her eyes heavenward. "Praise God," she said fervently.

And damn the doctor, I thought. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I was glad for St. T's and glad for Perpetua. She had lived to the end of her time and left when she was ready. I was even glad for Ruth, who had told all of the truth in her confession the night before.

We sat for a moment in silence. ' T suppose I must face the problem of Sister Ruth," Mother said at last. "The decision is mine to make, you see. Reverend Mother has asked me to stay on as abbess."

I wasn't surprised. Considering everything that had happened, not even Reverend Mother General would want to make a change in St. Theresa's leadership now. "I hope you're not too unhappy," I said. "I know you wanted to get back to your garden."

Mother looked out across the neatly kept enclosure, her gaze lingering with love on the subtle winter textures and colors. Her sigh was very light. "I suppose the sisters are

my garden," she said. "They are the growing things I am meant to cultivate and serve." A twinkle came and went and her voice grew determined. "I will simply have to be firm about my own priorities, that's all."

I smiled, wondering if she knew that she was speaking for me as well as herself. I was already starting to make a list of my priorities, and I wasn't surprised to find Mc-Quaid's name at the very top, with Brian's beside it. The shop came next, but I would be making some changes there. When I got home-

But mat could wait. I still had a question or two for Mother Winifred. "What about Ruth?" I asked. "What will happen to her?"

Mother turned back to me. "Last night, I saw that she is a desperately sick woman. She needs a great deal of counseling and strict supervision, which can't possibly be provided here. But the problem is more complicated than that. Olivia and Regina knew that she was responsible for Mother Hilaria's death and that she was setting the fires. What is it you call them-accessories after the fact? Before I can make any decisions, I must ask your legal opinion." She took a deep breath, as if she were steeling herself for my answer. ' 'Tell me what will happen after the authorities charge Ruth with Hilaria's death."

"Sister Ruth isn't going to be charged, Mother," I said. "A murder charge would never stick, and the county attorney won't try for voluntary manslaughter. If Ruth were not a nun, she might be charged with injury to an elderly person-that's a Class A misdemeanor, for which she could get a year in jail or a two-thousand-dollar fine. But the county attorney would probably settle for reckless conduct, which is only six months and a thousand dollars tops, hardly worth the expense of a trial. He wouldn't even consider an accessory charge against Olivia or Regina."

Mother shook her head. "You sound so sure."

"I've made plenty of mistakes since I got here," I said ruefully, "but I'm sure about this. Not even Stu Walters would be dumb enough to charge a nun."

Mother's face was bleak. "Then she'll get away with Hilaria's murder."

I reached for her hand. "People get away with murder all the time, Mother. Sometimes the police do a lousy job. Sometimes it's the prosecution that screws up. And sometimes the defense outmaneuvers everybody else, or hires better experts, or gets a lucky break." I made myself stop. This was one of my hot-button topics. "If you're looking for justice," I said more gently, "you'll have to make your own. The penance you assign will be the only justice Ruth will face-until Judgment Day, anyway."

Mother seemed to relax a little. "Well," she said, "I'm glad you got this whole unhappy business wrapped up. Oh, by the way, I should tell you that Dwight gave me his notice this morning. He's going to work for the Town-sends."

"I'm not surprised," I said. I paused. "Now that everything's out in the open, Mother, what's going to happen to the community?"

"Reverend Mother and I haven't talked about it yet, but in view of the way things have turned out-I'm thinking of the trust fund, of course-I'm confident that St. Theresa's will be allowed to pursue its mission without any more interference."

"And the sisters who want to leave?"

"They're free to go as soon as they can make arrangements. Olivia, too, of course." She smiled. "She isn't so different from Hilaria, you know. She has the same determination, the same drive. With maturity and experience, I expect she'll do quite well-somewhere else." She looked at me. "Like Tom, we're in your debt, China. Is there something we can offer you, something we can do, to repay you?"

I thought about that. "You might ask Sister Gabriella and her crew for a special prayer for next Sunday," I said. "I understand that the Cowboys are up against the 'Niners."

For readers who are interested in herbs, the following may be helpful.

1. If you're intrigued by St. Theresa's garlic farm and would like to start your own, read
Growing Great Garlic,
by Ron Engeland (Filaree Productions, Rt. 1, Box 162, Okanogan, WA 98840). If you're hungry for St. T's simple, earthy way of life,
A Garlic Testament: Seasons on a Small New Mexico Farm,
by Stanley Crawford, HarperCollins, 1992, is delightful soul food. Or if you're simply hungry, try
Glorious Garlic: A Cookbook,
by Charlene A. Braida.

2. You'll find a discussion of foxglove (definitely not an herb to experiment with!), in Mrs. M. Grieve's
A Modern Herbal,
which actually isn't all that modern. Dover Publications, 31 E. 2nd St., Mineola, NY 11501, has republished the original 1931 edition, unabridged. See pages 323-326. Steven Foster includes more up-to-date information on the plant's phytomedicinal qualities in
Herbal Renaissance
(1984, Peregrine Smith Books, Layton, UT 84041).

3. The biblical plants Mother Winifred has placed in her garden are only a few of those she might have included. Two books on the subject are
Gardening with Biblical Plants,
by W. James (Nelson-Hall, 1983), and
Bible Plants for American Gardens,
by Eleanor Anthony King (1942, republished by Dover). While I was planning
Rueful Death, The Herb Quarterly
published a fascinating article (Fall, 1994, pp. 26-31) about the construction of the Rodef Sha-

lorn Biblical Garden in Pittsburgh, revealing some of the hidden mysteries of garden plotting.

4. My thanks go to Madalene Hill, Texas herbalist and past president of the Herb Society of America, for the reminder that rue is a powerful rubefacient-that it has the ability to redden skin and even to blister. In
Southern Herb Growing
(Shearer Publishing, 1987, p. 113), Madalene and her daughter Gwen Barclay relate this interesting anecdote, contributed by Mary Jo Modica, from the University of Alabama Arboretum:

Several volunteers and I were working in the herb garden in shorts on a very sunny day… We were weeding near a large rue that was in flower and fruit. Two days later we all had second-degree burns on our legs and arms… After a great deal of research, we discovered the rubefacient power of rue is not to be taken lightly. Evidently, everywhere the glandular flowers and fruits touched us, the oils they released magnified the rays of the sun, resulting in very painful burns.

5. Another older book,
Plants of the Bible,
by Harold N. and Alma L. Moldenke (1952, republished by Dover), gave me much rue lore, including the fascinating reference to the superstition about guns. From Mrs. Grieve's
A Modern Herbal
I also learned that rue-water sprinkled here and there repels fleas, along with other fascinating oddities. (For instance, in Pliny's day, rue was thought to be good for the eyes, so painters ate quantities of it.) I also drew from Eleanour Sinclair Rohde's
A Garden of Herbs
(1936, republished by Dover). She offers this puckery, "rue-full" recipe, from
The Good Housewife's Jewell,
1585.

Preventive Against the Plague A
handful each of rue, sage, sweet-briar and elder. Bruise and strain with a quart of white wine, and put thereto a little ginger and a spoonful of the best treacle, and drink thereof morning and evening.

6. Rue is said to derive its name from the Greek word
reuo,
to set free, which may be a guarded reference to its virtue as an abortifacient. Etymologically speaking, the word has nothing to do with the English verb "to rue" (to regret, to wish one had acted otherwise), which comes from the Anglo-Saxon noun
hreow,
regret. But these two homonyms were inevitably associated, linking the plant rue with the idea of ruing or regretting, making it a "sour herb of grace." The archaic English noun "rath," meaning compassion and mercy, along with the modern English adjective ' 'ruthless'' also derive from
hreow.
Thus, Shakespeare finds "ruth" and "rue" synonymous: "rue, even for ruth, shall shortly here be seen…" These mysterious inter-weavings of symbol and meaning are too tempting for the novelist to ignore.

7- Susan and Bill Albert publish an occasional newsletter called
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Susan Wittig Albert is a mystery writer from Vermilion County, Illinois. She currently resides in Bertram, Texas, near Austin, with her husband, Bill Albert.