Rubbing his cheek, the man backpedaled and hurried out into the growing darkness. Joe turned to Zev and found him grinning through his beard.
" 'Father Joe Cahill is back—and he's pissed.' I like that."
"It'll make a great bumper sticker," Lacey said, her eyes wide with admiration. "You were great! I never knew my uncle the priest was such a tough dude. Maybe we've got more than a prayer tonight."
Joe didn't know about that. He hoped so.
"I think I'll close the front doors," he said. "The criminal element is starting to wander in. While I'm doing that, see if we can find some more candles. It's getting dark in here."
On the front steps he unhooked the left door and closed it. He was unhooking the right when he heard a woman's voice behind him.
"Father Cahill? Is that you?"
He turned and in the dying light saw a lone figure standing by a children's red wagon at the bottom of the steps.
"Yes. Do I know you?"
He heard her sob. "Oh, it is you! You've come back!"
Joe hurried down to the sobbing woman. "Are you all right?"
"I've been praying for your return but I'm such a sinner I thought God had turned his back on us all. But you're back! Thank God!"
Something familiar about her voice . .. but she kept her head down. Joe reached out, and tilted her chin so he could see her.
He gasped when he saw her tear-stained face. He barely recognized her. Her skin was pale, her cheeks sunken, but he knew her.
"Sister Carole!"
Impulsively he threw his arms around her and pulled her against him in a hug. He wanted to laugh but feared if he opened his mouth he'd burst out crying. Sweet emotions roiled through him, making him weak. She was here, she was alive. He wanted to tell her how he'd missed her—missed knowing she was in the neighboring building, missed seeing her walk back and forth to the school, missed the smile she would flash him whenever they crossed paths.
"It's so good to see you, Carole!" He pushed her back and looked at her, hoping to see that smile. But her eyes were different, haunted. "Dear God, what's happened to you?" Immediately he thought: Stupid question. The same thing that's happened to us all. "Why are you here? I thought you'd gone to Pennsylvania for Easter."
She shook her head. "I had to stay behind ... with Sister Bernadette ... they ... I had to . . ." She loosed a single, agonized sob. "How could I stay in the convent after that?"
Joe wasn't following. Her speech was so disjointed. This wasn't like Carole. He'd always known her as a woman of quiet intelligence, with a sharp, organized mind. Everyone left alive had suffered, but what had she experienced to leave her so shattered?
"Where have you been staying?"
She looked away. "Here and there."
"Well, you're staying here now." He took her arm. "Come inside. We've got-"
She pulled away. "I can't. I've too many sins."
"We're all sinners, Carole."
"But these are terrible sins. Mortal sins. So many mortal sins."
"This is where sins are forgiven. I'm going to try to say mass later."
"Mass?" Her lip quivered. "Oh, that would be wonderful. But I can't. Even though it's a Holy Day, I—"
"What Holy—?" And then he remembered. With all that had been going on, it had slipped his mind. "Oh, God, it's Ascension Thursday, isn't it."
Sister Carole nodded. "But I'll just have to add missing Mass on a Holy Day of Obligation to my list of sins."
"Come inside, Carole. Please. I'll hear your confession."
"No." She paused, as if she were listening for something. "To receive absolution I must be sorry for my sins and promise to sin no more." She shook her head and something flashed in her eyes, something hard and dangerous. "I'm not. And I won't."
Joe stared at her, trying to fathom . . .
"I don't follow you, Carole."
"Please don't, Father. It's not a path you want to tread." She bent and grabbed the handle of her little red wagon, then turned and started away. "God bless you, Father Cahill."
Joe hurried after her. He couldn't let her go. It was too dangerous, but more than that, he wanted her near, where he could talk to her, be with her. He grabbed her arm.
"I can't let you go."
She snatched her arm free and kept moving. "You can't make me stay. Don't try. I won't. I can't." The last word was couched in a sob that damn near broke his heart.
"Carole, please!"
But she hurried on into the shadows without looking back. Joe started after her again, then stopped. Short of picking her up and carrying her back to the church—and he couldn't see himself doing that—what could he do?
Suddenly weary, he turned and climbed the steps. As he finished closing the front doors, he took one last longing look at the night.
Carole . .. what's happened to you? Please be safe.
He closed the door and wished the lock hadn't been smashed. He turned and found Lacey and Zev standing in the vestibule.
"We were getting worried about you," Lacey said.
"I ran into one of the nuns who used to teach in St. Anthony's school."
Zev's eyebrows arched. "And you didn't let her in?"
"Wouldn't come in. But she reminded me that this is a Holy Day: Ascension Thursday."
Zev shrugged. "Which means?"
"Supposedly," Lacey said, "forty days after Easter, Jesus ascended into Heaven to sit at the right hand of God." She smiled. "An ingenious way to dodge all those inconvenient questions about the state and whereabouts of the remains of the 'Son of God.' "
Joe looked at her. "Lacey, you can't still be an atheist."