AGNES
I wake all at once the next morning, sitting up with a gasp, as if someone has thrown a bucket of cold water over me. It takes me a full minute to remember where we are. My brain races through the events that have occurred over the past two days. Benny’s fingers. Leaving Mount Blessing. Dr. Pannetta. Wal-Mart. I feel sick and dizzy, trying to piece it all back together. Benny is sound asleep next to me; Nana Pete and Honey are snoring lightly in the other bed. I can’t stop thinking about Mom and Dad. Have they come looking for us? Have they tried to call anyone? Has Emmanuel let them leave to come find us? And if he hasn’t, what could they possibly be doing?
Across the room, a flash of light gleams between the heavy curtains. Getting out of bed slowly, I push the curtains back and stare through the dull glass. The sun has just risen over the peak of hills in the distance. Another flash of light, brighter this time, forces me to squint and then shade my eyes. I stare for a moment, unsure if I am really seeing what I think I am seeing. Ten seconds later, as the sun rises another inch or so, the glare disappears and there, in all her glory, is the Blessed Virgin Mary, standing on top of the mountain before me.
I fall to my knees, trembling, but not daring to look away from her. She is dressed all in gold, from the top of her head to her toes. Her arms are stretched out before her, just like on the cover of The Saints’ Way, as if waiting for a child to leap into them. I make the sign of the cross and stare, overwhelmed, at the vision of loveliness. It is my first apparition. I musn’t be frightened. I will stay quiet and wait to see what she asks of me. There is no question it is her, but from this distance, I cannot make out any of her beautiful features, and if she is trying to tell me something, there is no way I will be able to hear her words. The minutes tick by, but she doesn’t move, not even when the sun moves higher in the sky, throwing a shadow across the heavy folds in her robe. My knees feel as if they are grinding into a knotted pile of wood, but I do not take my eyes off her golden aura. Maybe there will be no message today; maybe the first apparition will just be a test of my faith, to see if I will stay or run away.
“I will never run away,” I whisper. “I will always be here, waiting and listening.”
“Listening for what?” The voice behind me comes so suddenly that I nearly fall over with fright. I whirl around to see Nana Pete standing next to the bed, watching me with a peculiar expression on her face. “Who are you talking to, Mouse?”
She won’t be able to see her, I think quickly. Only visionaries are able to see the apparitions.
“Oh!” Nana Pete says, pointing through the curtains. “You found the statue of Our Lady of the Mountain!” My eyebrows narrow. “But of course! I forgot we were so close to Mount St. Mary’s Seminary! Isn’t she lovely? I think she used to be on top of a church that burned to the ground. She was the only thing that wasn’t destroyed in the fire. Would you like to drive up and see her?”
My brain is racing. Statue? Church? Mount St. Mary’s?
Statue?
“Mouse?” Nana Pete presses. “Would you like to drive over so that you can see her for yourself? She’s even prettier up close. She looks almost human.”
I stand up and brush invisible crumbs off the front of my pajamas. My knees are throbbing. “No.” I hope Nana Pete doesn’t notice the flush that has begun to creep alongside my face. “No, actually, I wouldn’t.” I push past her. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I lock the bathroom door and then sag against it, letting my forehead sink against my knees. What were the details in the Saint Catherine Laboure story, when the Blessed Virgin appeared to her? I grab The Saints’ Way and read it over again. A small child, dressed all in white, had come into Catherine’s room at the convent one night and told her to follow him. He led her down a dark hallway and into the chapel. Although it was the middle of the night, every single candle in the chapel was lit. Then, as the church bells tolled midnight, Catherine heard the rustle of a silk dress. Suddenly a beautiful woman surrounded by a blaze of light stood before her. The child, who was still standing next to Catherine, said, “Behold, here is the Blessed Virgin!”
I close the book and go over the details: A rustle of silk. Burning candles. A blaze of white light. My heart sinks, remembering the golden shimmer cascading down the green mountain. I could have sworn …