Susan Albert - Rueful Death

It was over. Mostly, anyway. There were a few loose ends to be tied up-a last confession and a pledge.

"I want you to know, Mother," Tom said, "that I will do my level best to restore the foundation's assets. It's going to take a while, but you have my personal assurance that-"

Mother Winifred shook her head gently. "I understand what you're saying, Tom, and I'm pleased that you want to assume the responsibility." She smiled. "But we take our vow of poverty and simplicity quite seriously, even joyfully. It doesn't confine us or keep us from doing what we want. On the contrary, it frees us to pay attention to our spiritual life. The three hundred thousand dollars in the account now will yield enough each year-in addition to what we earn from our garlic-to make the necessary repairs to our buildings. That's all we care about. We're better off without the rest."

Tom raised his eyebrows. "That may be. But I doubt that the Reverend Mother General is going to be quite so philosophical. Have you notified her yet?''

Mother's smile became slightly strained. "I talked with her by telephone this morning. She was perturbed by the news, of course-both Sadie's death and the loss of the funds. But she agrees that there is nothing to be gained from making any of it public. The lawyers will be consulted, but Reverend Mother General was quite definite about not wanting any negative publicity."

Tom could read between those lines, just as I could. "Perturbed" probably didn't do justice to Reverend Mother General's reaction. But she wouldn't have been anxious to reveal that a major embezzlement had occurred on her watch. She would hush up the whole thing, leaving Tom to quietly recoup his father's losses as he could. And allowing St. Theresa's the freedom- the precious freedom- of going about its ordinary work.

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."