Read Online Rueful Death by Susan Wittig Albert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Wittig Albert
Tags: detective
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it was Sister Gabriella, moving with a fierce energy that suggested she hadn't quite forgiven Sister Olivia for whatever had sparked their argument.
"Whoops, sorry!" She dropped the wheelbarrow with a thud and pushed her windblown dark hair out of her eyes. "I should have been looking where I was-" Her tanned face broke into a smile. "Margaret Mary, bless you!" she exclaimed. "It's good to see you!"
Gabriella enveloped Maggie in a warm embrace, then turned to Ruby and me. As Maggie introduced us, she held out a dirty, garden-worn hand, her nails every bit as unspeakable as mine. I saw that her dark hair was liberally streaked with gray, and revised my estimate of her age. She was probably closer to sixty than fifty.
"When you get a little time," she said to me, "drop by my office in Jacob and let me give you a tour of our garlic operation." She paused, eyeing me. "Unless of course you're here to get away from herbs, in which case you probably don't want-"
"No," I said hastily. "It's the pressure I'm trying to get away from, Sister, not the plants."
Her grin was infectious. ' 'Lord knows, we all need to go over the wall every so often."
"You're questioning your vocation?" Maggie asked teasingly.
Gabriella's weathered face grew serious. "Only a fool doesn't question her vocation-minute by minute. And God's got plenty of fools. She doesn't need another one." She picked up the wheelbarrow handles, nodded a cheerful good-bye, and started up the path. As she went around the corner, she began whistling, "We're Off to See the Wizard."
We went in the other direction. As we walked, Ruby said, "Why in heaven's name don't the St. Agatha sisters vote for
her!"
"It's the vow of obedience," Maggie said. "Until a few years ago, novices were taught to obey their superiors whether they agreed with them or not. When you're trained to obey, questioning authority feels like you're questioning God. The St. Agatha sisters, especially the older ones, wouldn't even consider voting for anybody but Olivia." She paused. "And they're all older, come to think of it. When I was there a few years ago, I don't think I saw anybody younger than fifty."
We had reached a small cottage. Maggie was raising her hand to knock at the door when it was flung open wide by a tiny, stooped woman in a white blouse and trim navy slacks, less than five feet tall. Her darting eyes were an electric blue, and she had flyaway white hair and an elvish face. She welcomed Maggie like a long-lost daughter, and greeted Ruby and me with enthusiasm.
"Please, come in and sit down, all of you," she said, ushering us into the warm, cozy room. "Did you have an uneventful trip?"
"Actually, it was full of events," Maggie said wryly, and told her about our accident.
"We were lucky," Ruby said. "If the car had gone over, we might have been pretty badly hurt. Believe me, I was awfully glad to see your handyman."
"It was providential that Dwight came along when he did," Mother replied. She went to a hot plate and took off
a steaming kettle. ' 'You need a nice cup of peppermint tea to settle your nerves."
In a moment, Mother Winifred had poured our tea and settled us at a table in front of an uncurtained casement window which looked out over a square expanse of stonewalled garden. In the middle was a large circular bed, centered with a stone statue of Mary and divided into pie-shaped wedges by red bricks. Gardens are subdued in winter, but this one was still lovely. I could see the layered mounds of santolina, the silvery velvet of lamb's ears, and the stiff gray-green of lavender bushes, striking against the ferny green of tansy and yarrow and the feathery leaves of southernwood. And there was blue-green rue, a lively companion to a large potted rosemary that had been expertly trained into a neat, conical topiary. Nearby were several other untrimmed rosemaries, exuberantly green against the stone wall. In this part of Texas, they'd likely make it through the winter outdoors. Much
"Whoops, sorry!" She dropped the wheelbarrow with a thud and pushed her windblown dark hair out of her eyes. "I should have been looking where I was-" Her tanned face broke into a smile. "Margaret Mary, bless you!" she exclaimed. "It's good to see you!"
Gabriella enveloped Maggie in a warm embrace, then turned to Ruby and me. As Maggie introduced us, she held out a dirty, garden-worn hand, her nails every bit as unspeakable as mine. I saw that her dark hair was liberally streaked with gray, and revised my estimate of her age. She was probably closer to sixty than fifty.
"When you get a little time," she said to me, "drop by my office in Jacob and let me give you a tour of our garlic operation." She paused, eyeing me. "Unless of course you're here to get away from herbs, in which case you probably don't want-"
"No," I said hastily. "It's the pressure I'm trying to get away from, Sister, not the plants."
Her grin was infectious. ' 'Lord knows, we all need to go over the wall every so often."
"You're questioning your vocation?" Maggie asked teasingly.
Gabriella's weathered face grew serious. "Only a fool doesn't question her vocation-minute by minute. And God's got plenty of fools. She doesn't need another one." She picked up the wheelbarrow handles, nodded a cheerful good-bye, and started up the path. As she went around the corner, she began whistling, "We're Off to See the Wizard."
We went in the other direction. As we walked, Ruby said, "Why in heaven's name don't the St. Agatha sisters vote for
her!"
"It's the vow of obedience," Maggie said. "Until a few years ago, novices were taught to obey their superiors whether they agreed with them or not. When you're trained to obey, questioning authority feels like you're questioning God. The St. Agatha sisters, especially the older ones, wouldn't even consider voting for anybody but Olivia." She paused. "And they're all older, come to think of it. When I was there a few years ago, I don't think I saw anybody younger than fifty."
We had reached a small cottage. Maggie was raising her hand to knock at the door when it was flung open wide by a tiny, stooped woman in a white blouse and trim navy slacks, less than five feet tall. Her darting eyes were an electric blue, and she had flyaway white hair and an elvish face. She welcomed Maggie like a long-lost daughter, and greeted Ruby and me with enthusiasm.
"Please, come in and sit down, all of you," she said, ushering us into the warm, cozy room. "Did you have an uneventful trip?"
"Actually, it was full of events," Maggie said wryly, and told her about our accident.
"We were lucky," Ruby said. "If the car had gone over, we might have been pretty badly hurt. Believe me, I was awfully glad to see your handyman."
"It was providential that Dwight came along when he did," Mother replied. She went to a hot plate and took off
a steaming kettle. ' 'You need a nice cup of peppermint tea to settle your nerves."
In a moment, Mother Winifred had poured our tea and settled us at a table in front of an uncurtained casement window which looked out over a square expanse of stonewalled garden. In the middle was a large circular bed, centered with a stone statue of Mary and divided into pie-shaped wedges by red bricks. Gardens are subdued in winter, but this one was still lovely. I could see the layered mounds of santolina, the silvery velvet of lamb's ears, and the stiff gray-green of lavender bushes, striking against the ferny green of tansy and yarrow and the feathery leaves of southernwood. And there was blue-green rue, a lively companion to a large potted rosemary that had been expertly trained into a neat, conical topiary. Nearby were several other untrimmed rosemaries, exuberantly green against the stone wall. In this part of Texas, they'd likely make it through the winter outdoors. Much
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