Sammy Keyes and the Sisters of Mercy (5 page)

He says, “No, there’s a door in the hallway,” but what he’s concentrating on is Gregory picking the carrot up and putting it back in my lap.

I say, “Was it locked? I mean, did someone have to come through your office to take the cross?” and really, I’m trying hard to ignore how Gregory’s nudging that carrot around my lap, but it’s getting a little out of hand.

He says, “What? Oh. No. It wasn’t locked, but it
was
closed.”

“But anybody could’ve walked in if they’d wanted to?”

By now little Gregory has decided my lap is also a good place for his front paws, and before I can stop him, he’s on my lap and in my face, panting away, huffing carrot breath all over me.

Father Mayhew’s complicated eyes are looking very confused, let me tell you. He says, “Off, lad! Off!” so Gregory jumps down, but he doesn’t go far. He rests his nose on my knee and keeps one eye on me, and one on that carrot, which is still in my lap.

Father Mayhew mumbles, “I suppose so. But that’s the only thing missing. Why would someone walk in, steal my cross, and leave? There are things far more valuable in the sacristy.”

“Was it where you always keep it when you’re not wearing it?”

“I had it ready with my vestments for a service last night. Right around the hanger.”

“So anyone who knows you would know that if you’re not wearing it, your cross is probably hanging with your robe in that room?”

He sits up a little. “You’re implying that one of the
religious
took it?”

I sneak the carrot stump onto the floor again and say, “I don’t know—maybe a janitor? A cleaning lady? Who goes in there?”

While he’s thinking about this, Gregory picks up the carrot, puts it back in my lap, then lets out a growl. A long, low growl.

I jump back a little, and then Sister Josephine walks in. And Gregory keeps right on growling as he backs himself completely under Father Mayhew’s desk.

Father Mayhew coos, “Easy, lad, easy,” then asks, “Yes, Sister? What is it?”

Now, I don’t think Josephine noticed I was there,
because the door was sort of blocking her view. She thumps the floor with her cane and says, “That is the rudest bunch of ingrates I have ever met. In all my years in the church I have never had to tolerate such brazen, intrusive, unappreciative creatures!” Then she mutters, “They may as well be Baptists.”

Father Mayhew conjures up a cough. “Now, now, Sister. Calm down. You may not approve of their personalities, but they come highly recommended and I have full confidence they’ll bring out community goodwill.” He leans back in his chair and makes a little fingertip tent with his hands. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

Josephine crosses her arms so the crook of her cane is hooked on her shoulder like a giant bird claw. “You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you what happened. We went through with your suggestion to have them over for lunch. Sister and I worked all morning preparing lamb stroganoff. They arrived forty minutes late with not so much as an I’m sorry. They just whisked in empty-handed and expected to be served. And then,
then
… they didn’t like the stroganoff! Abigail is allergic to mushrooms, Clarice doesn’t eat lamb, and Bernice—
Bernice
picked out the lamb and left the noodles.” She thumps her cane back on the floor. “Would you kindly tell me how such a large woman can be a picky eater?”

Just then, Gregory turns up the volume. Way up. And he’s growling so loud that Josephine slams her cane right by his nose and hisses, “Stop that, you oversized rodent!”

Father Mayhew says, “Quiet, lad!” And he’s about to
scold Josephine, too, when he notices Sister Bernice standing in the doorway.

Sister Josephine sees her picky eater standing there and freezes. But Bernie comes in with a bright smile and says, “Sister! Father! Sammy! Lordy-be, it’s Grand Central in here! Father, you need to ask the Mighty One for a bigger office!” Then she hears Gregory growling away under the desk. She bends down and says, “Now, now, pup. Sister Bernie’s not gonna hurt ya. Come on out and give her a kiss!”

Gregory stays put, but he does quiet down a bit, and when Father Mayhew says to Josephine, “Perhaps we can finish our discussion later?” Josephine just scowls and hobbles out the door.

Bernie looks over her shoulder. “Is something troubling Sister?”

Father Mayhew shakes his head and says, “Not to worry. Now, what is it I can help you with?”

“A few things, Father. First, last night someone tried to break into our motor home—”

Father Mayhew’s eyebrows go popping up. “My word! Was anything taken?”

Bernice shakes her head and says, “No, we scared him off, praise God, but next time—who knows? And since I’ve seen quite a number of lost lambs roaming the neighborhood, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind storing a valuable of mine in your safe.” She motions to the missionaries and cows hanging on the wall. “I noticed it when Sammy here was toiling away.”

Father Mayhew says, “Certainly. What is it you’d like me to keep for you?”

She pulls out a locket and dangles it by the chain as she hands it over to him. “My sister Sandra has entrusted me to deliver this to my niece Olivia. It’s been passed down from mother to daughter for five generations, and if I failed in my mission I could never forgive myself.”

Father Mayhew takes the locket, then lifts the cows and missionaries off their nail, and gets busy twirling the dial. I can’t see exactly what he’s doing because he’s got his back to us, but I see his wall safe open, I see him put the locket inside, and I see him spin the dial when he shuts the safe. Then he replaces the painting and says, “You let me know when you need it back. If I’m not here … well, I will be. You just let me know.”

Bernice’s eyebrow arches up. “But if you’re not, one of the Sisters can return it to me, can’t they?”

Father Mayhew scratches behind his ear. “They have their own lockbox. If you’re concerned, you can ask them to keep it for you.”

Sister Bernice says, “I’m being silly. Of course you’ll be here! We’ll be continuing our mission after our final performance next Saturday—I know you won’t be missing that!”

“Not for the world. I’ve a feeling it’s going to be quite a show.” He sits back behind his desk and eyes a manila envelope in her hand. “What else can I do for you, Sister?”

Bernice hands over the envelope and chuckles. “Continue to be even-tempered and patient.” As Father Mayhew pulls out a pile of forms, she sighs and says, “It’s quite a stack, I know, but in our work we have to be very careful to account for every penny. The government wants to
know everything from A to Z about the people we’ve raised funds for, so you’ll find some very tiresome questions in there. But we’re in quite a stew by the end of the year if we don’t have our paperwork in order.” He flips through the forms as she says, “We’re also in need of some names. Connections. We usually do a newspaper, radio, and television blitz and it’s better to go in with an editor or station manager’s name than it is to go in cold. I’ll need a list of those, and any personal contacts you may have.”

Now, this is not the Bernice I’m used to seeing. She’s not laughing and talking in rhymes, or being buddy-buddy. She’s business, all business. This woman knows how to put a fundraiser together, and heaven help anyone who moves too slow or tries to get in her way.

I think Father Mayhew was picking up on the same thing because he nods and says, “I’ll have you a list by noon tomorrow. And I’ll get these forms done tonight.”

“I’ll also need a mailing list and someone to help stuff envelopes.” Bernice crinkles up one side of her face. “Sister Josephine and Sister Mary Margaret don’t seem like the envelope-stuffing kind. Any suggestions?”

Well, anything’s better than being Gregory’s carrot caddie, so I say, “I could help … if that’s all right with you, Father Mayhew?”

He studies me, then says, “Starting Monday. An hour with them, then an hour in the soup kitchen. How’s that?”

“Sounds great!”

Sister Bernice flashes her gap at me and says, “Amen!” Then she notices the wall clock. “Lordy-be, it’s getting
late! And I’ve a million things to do yet.” She waves and says, “Thank you, Father. We’ll see you Monday, Sammy!” and then disappears.

The minute Bernice is gone, Gregory comes out from under the desk and retrieves his carrot. Only he doesn’t go back under the desk, he lies down right next to me and starts gnawing.

Father Mayhew says, “Now, where were we?” but before I can answer, he looks at Gregory and shakes his head. “I’ve never seen him behave like this before. Ever. And the doubts I had about you, lass—they’re gone. You have a good heart, that’s easy to see, and I’m very sorry for the way I accused you yesterday. The cross is gone and I’m upset, but there’s no sense in casting blame upon the innocent.” Then he sighs. “I only wish I knew who stole it.”

“What about the janitor?”

Father Mayhew shakes his head. “Not Enaldo. He’s a good man. He’s been with the church for twenty-five years.”

“Who else comes through here? It has to be somebody that knows that’s where you keep it. It’s ivory, right? How valuable is it?”

Father Mayhew rubs his cheek. “I’ve never stopped to think of it in monetary terms. It’s valuable to me for sentimental reasons. But it is very old and it
is
ivory.… I suppose you could get a pretty penny for it.”

Now, my brain’s telling me not to ask, but my mouth has other ideas. “Maybe someone took it to get back at you?”

He drills me with his complicated eyes. “Get
back
at me? Lass, what are you talking about?”

Now I’m feeling like a sparrow in a chimney—I can go up or I can go down, but either way, I’m going to be a mess by the time I’m out. I take a deep breath and decide to go up. “Uh … maybe some people have some resentments or something? You know, don’t
like
you?”

He shakes his head. “They can always come talk to me. That’s no reason to steal my cross!”

I nod kind of slowly. “Maybe they don’t think talking’s going to do them any good. Maybe they’re just mad.”

Now,
I
know I’m thinking about Sister Josephine, and
he
knows I’m thinking about Sister Josephine, but I’m not about to say it and neither is he. So we both sit there staring at each other like a couple of zombies. Finally, he looks down and says, “She wouldn’t have done that. She may have a sharp tongue, but I know Sister Josephine to be an honorable woman.”

He stands up and says, “I’m glad you came in, Samantha. You’ve given me a lot to think about, and once again, please accept my apology.”

I say, “Thank you. I’m really sorry about your cross,” and as I’m getting up to head over to the soup kitchen, Gregory jumps up, wagging his tail. I say, “Stay boy, stay!” and then zip out of there before ol’ Carrot Killer can catch me.

And as I leave the church and pass along the tidy hedge surrounding the Virgin Mary, it strikes me that for a place that looks so calm and peaceful on the outside, St. Mary’s is like a bubbling volcano on the inside.

And in the back of my brain I know—it won’t be long before it blows.

Brother Phil let me in through the back door of the soup kitchen and said, “They’ve decided they’re driving.”

I say, “Driving?” Then I see Josephine and Mary Margaret looking at a map and remember about their trip to Las Vegas.

“Yep. They’re taking their sack of nickels and heading out.”

Now, Josephine’s not acting anything like she was back in Father Mayhew’s office. She’s laughing and rubbing her hands together and in general acting happy. And since I’ve never really seen her act like this before, I stop and whisper to Phil, “When are they leaving?”

Phil doesn’t whisper back. I don’t think he
can
, if you know what I mean. He’s like an idling chain saw—even when he’s not actually doing anything, he makes so much noise you want to cover your ears. He breathes loud, and talks loud, and even
walks
loud. Maybe it’s because his feet are so big, I don’t know, but they just seem to scuff and slap and bump a lot.

So when I ask him when the Sisters are leaving for Las Vegas, he practically yells, “Right after Thanksgiving,” and then stubs his toe on the leg of a chair.

He hops around for a minute, then slams the chair back against the wall. “Who put that stupid thing here?”

Mary Margaret and Josephine look up and see me, then check the clock and say, “Good heavens, look at the time!”

While we’re getting the food out, the nuns are talking about their trip, getting excited all over again about who they’re going to stop and see, and what they’re going to be able to do driving that they couldn’t do on a bus.

Brother Phil, though, doesn’t say a word. He just walks around with a great big frown on his face, idling. Sister Mary Margaret notices, and says, “Now Phil, don’t take it so hard. You know you’re needed here.”

Phil shakes his head and mutters, “Seems I’m not needed anywhere …”

Josephine snaps, “Oh, don’t start with that again, Phillip. It’s getting tiresome. We all have our own calling. You may not have accepted yours yet, but the sooner you do, the happier you’ll be.”