Jon Merz - Vicarious

The initial excitement at helping had also begun to wear off. Despite spending almost a full day in the divinity school’s library, Lauren had been unable to find anything that could shed some light on the mysterious deaths that Curran had occupied so much of his life with.

She shut the book and slid her chair back, its legs squawking against the polished wooden floor. She needed some fresh air to clear her head.

Outside, November winds blew hard around her, tossing the flaps of her overcoat about in the gray daylight. She shivered instinctively and closed her eyes as a blast of wind sent dirt flying at her face.

She walked across the campus with its rolling green lawns. Tucked away on the underside of Brighton, a few miles outside of Boston, the school’s buildings sheltered a select group of people who still wished to enter the service of God in an age of sexual abuse scandals and political infighting.

Even here, she thought, evil could reach in and disrupt the work of God.

At the administration building, she stopped. A lone beam of sunlight pierced the gray sky and broke over the carved statues of saints on either side of the building. She smiled once. And then climbed the steps toward the front door.

Inside, the quiet seemed almost overpowering. A door to her left beckoned and she wandered through it.

The old nun at the front desk looked up and smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Is Sister McDewey in?”

“Yes. Do you have an appointment?”

Lauren stopped. She didn’t. “No. But she was my advisor last year and I was hoping I could get her advice about something.”

The nun smiled and lifted the phone. “Let me just check, dear. I don’t think there’s any reason why she couldn’t spare a few minutes for you. Sit down if you like.”

Lauren took off her overcoat and sat on a long wooden bench running along one side of the office. She looked at the pictures of the Pope on one wall. Across from him, a beautiful painting depicting the Last Supper featured prominently. Otherwise, the contents of the office with its desks and stacks of paper and books and reports, looked like most other academic offices she’d been in throughout her life.

“Sister McDewey will see you, dear.”

Lauren looked up. “Really? Thanks so much for your help.”

“Think nothing of it. I know there’s plenty of decisions that need talking over with someone before you can make them right. You have yourself a good talk with her. She’s one sharp nun.”

Lauren smiled and walked toward the heavy brown oak door with the small brass nameplate on it. She knocked once and heard the invitation to enter come from the other side. She turned the doorknob and walked in.

Sister McDewey looked about fifty, but Lauren had heard she was actually much older. No one seemed to much about her except that she’d done missionary work all over the world for many years.

She rose as Lauren came in. “Ms. Fields. How nice to see you.”

“Sister.”

The elder nun pointed at a cushioned chair across from her desk. “Sit. Please. Make yourself comfortable.”

Lauren did and smiled. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“How can I help?”

“You gave me such great advice over the last few years when I decided to actually enter the service. I thought I might speak with you about a matter that’s come to my attention lately.”

“Even though I’m no longer your official advisor, I can certainly still counsel you on choices affecting your future, have no fear.”

“Well, this isn’t exactly an official type of decision. It’s more a matter of acquiring information.”

“Indeed, go on.”

Lauren shifted, unsure of how to begin. “My brother was murdered the other night.”

“Oh my heavens, I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Are you all right?”

Lauren shrugged. “We weren’t really on the best terms. Still, his death was a bit of a shock to me. He was the last family I had.”

“And you’re troubled by this naturally.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I’m most troubled by the way in which he died.”

“How did he die?’

Lauren hesitated. How was she going to phrase this? “There were no apparent causes for his death. He simply…died.”

“How peculiar. And the authorities? What have they told you?”

“That’s why I’m here actually. The lead detective on the case has seen this type of death before. When he worked for the FBI, he investigated several episodes of this throughout the entire country. He shared some information with me and I told him it sounded almost as though someone had performed some type of reverse laying of hands on the victims.”

“Laying of hands?”

“Yes, the old stories of those with the ability to heal by touch.”

“I’m well aware of the stories, Lauren.” Sister McDewey frowned. “Unfortunately, that’s all there is to them. They’re simply stories.”

“There’s nothing legitimate about them?” Lauren found that hard to believe.

Sister McDewey smiled. “Let me tell you something. As you might know, I worked a long time doing work overseas. In the service of the Church we are sometimes sent to the most inhospitable places on earth to do His bidding. Obviously we go to do the goodness that needs doing. I’ve seen an awful lot in my years abroad. And I’ve been to countless tiny villages where someone was reputed to have the gift of healing.”

“What happened?”

Sister McDewey shrugged. “What generally happens in cases like those: it turns out to be some sort of charlatan at work whose only motive is to gain some type of control over the local populace. Sometimes it’s for money, other times not. But never — not once — have I seen any real evidence of the ability.”

“But don’t you think it might be true?”

“Even if it was, this thing you’re speaking of — a reversal? It’s never even been documented. Not that I’m aware of.”

“I did research in the school’s library and couldn’t find anything. I thought I’d come to you and see if you knew where there might be additional information.”

“And how would I know about that?”

Lauren raised her eyebrows. She was about to skirt dangerous ground. “I’ve heard rumors of another library here in Boston. One that has certain types of information on arcane subjects.”

Sister McDewey laughed. “I see that rumor still lives, huh? Well, you can put it right out of your mind. There’s no such place around here. I’d certainly like to think I’d know about it if there was. Although I need hardly remind you that even if it did exist, you wouldn’t be granted access to it unless you were a fully ordained nun. You understand that such a place wouldn’t be open to the public.”

“So, it doesn’t exist.”

“No.”

Lauren stood. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

Sister McDewey smiled. “No waste at all, Lauren. I’m glad to see you again. How are your preparations coming for entering the service?”

“Well enough I suppose.” Lauren tried to smile. “I should be going. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Any time.”

Lauren turned and walked out. In the outer office, the older nun was nowhere to be seen. Lauren shrugged her coat on and walked out of the administration building, back into the November cold.

Was Sister McDewey lying about the secret library? Probably. Lauren had heard the rumors long enough to suspect that there was some measure of truth to there. It was simply a matter of finding out its location.

The worst part, she decided, was having to tell Steve that she hadn’t been able to find anything out. She felt guilty, like she’d lied about being able to help him. Why did I tell him I could find something out? Why did I do that?