"Now I'm really confused."
She huffed out a humorless laugh. "Don't try and understand it, India. I've tried and failed. The thing is, me and Duke didn't work then and we won't work now. He was good to me when I needed it after…after a bad experience with a man. He helped me feel better about myself again, helped me trust men again. I needed him then, but I moved on. He knows it, but he just don't always accept it." She elbowed me. "He likes to think he's the most important person in my life. Came as a shock when Matt arrived in California and we got close, but Duke adjusted eventually. But I don't think he'd like getting put down another rung on the ladder."
"Do Matt and Cyclops also know that your lover from the hospital is a woman?"
"They might. They know I sometimes like women."
"I can't believe Matt didn't tell me."
She smiled sadly. "He wouldn't tell a secret, not even if you and he were married."
"So let’s see if I have this right. You've been seeing a woman and you'd like your relationship to be something more than friendship, but you're not entirely averse to a romantic relationship with a man either."
"You got it." She gave a sheepish shrug and chewed on her lower lip. I'd never seen her quite so uncertain before. Perhaps she was worried about my reaction. "The thing is, India, I just like people I like. It don't matter what sex they are. I don't understand it, but that's how I feel."
I smiled at her, trying to reassure her this revelation didn't change anything between us. "Thank you for confiding in me. I suspected I was missing something but I couldn't think what. I'm glad you cleared it up for me."
"Wish it would become clearer for me. Being like this, liking both men and women, it gets complicated, sometimes."
A bubble of laughter escaped. "I'm sure it does. But it's not easier liking just men. Take it from me, I've made quite a mess of things, and I've only had one paramour."
"That's because you're a bad judge of character. I'm good at it. I know a good person when I see one." Again, she held up the letter.
I leaned down and hugged her. "Then you must not give up on her. Turn on that Johnson charm and make her see what she's missing."
Finally I got a genuine laugh out of her. "The Johnson charm only works on cowboys and criminals. But I won't give up. Not yet."
* * *
Matt and I waited at the school gate instead of the convent, hoping to catch Sister Margaret as she saw the children off at the end of the day. I felt rather conspicuous, standing beneath the shade of a tree on the footpath, when Sister Bernadette spotted us. The nun marched toward us, her toolbox swinging with each long stride.
"You two again," she said in her thick Irish accent. "What is it you want now?"
"We wish to speak with Sister Margaret," Matt said.
The school bell tolled and girls began spilling out of the classrooms in chatty groups. We searched for Sister Margaret but couldn't see her.
"What do you want with her?" Sister Bernadette asked.
"That's not something we can divulge," I told her.
"We have no secrets here."
I merely smiled. She was quite hostile; she had been ever since we'd asked prying questions of her and Sister Margaret on our first visit. It seemed ungrateful, considering Matt was responsible for sending Duke and Cyclops to mend the convent roof.
"How is the roof?" I asked.
Matt's gaze slid to me and a small smile touched his lips.
"It stopped leaking," Sister Bernadette said, her tone damper. "I suppose I have you to thank for that, Mr. Glass. But don't expect me to answer your impertinent questions now. It changes nothing."
"I'll keep that in mind," Matt said, "for when we have impertinent questions for you."
Her mouth clamped shut but she was in no hurry to leave. She followed Matt's sharpened gaze to the school. Sister Margaret emerged and, seeing us, joined us at the gate. Her cautious smile quickly faded as Sister Bernadette intercepted her.
"You don't have to speak to them," Sister Bernadette said.
"We only have a few quick questions," Matt said. "It won't take long but they are a little sensitive. Perhaps we can go somewhere quieter where there are no children."
Sister Margaret exchanged a glance with her fellow nun then looked toward the convent. "I…I…don't know."
Sister Bernadette sighed. "They won't give up. Come to the school hall." She headed off, clearly determined to be part of the conversation whether we wanted her there or not.
Sister Margaret tucked her hands into the sleeves of her habit and followed.
The hall was situated behind the school building. The scent of oiled wood came from the large cross hanging on the wall, and several children's drawings of Christ hung on the opposite wall. We sat on chairs arranged in a circle beneath the cross. Both nuns regarded us levelly, if somewhat nervously. Neither looked comfortable meeting us like this, but I took it as a good sign that they were willing to speak with us at all.
"We found Abigail Pilcher," Matt began.
Sister Margaret gasped then covered her mouth with her hand.
"Who?" Sister Bernadette asked.
"Sister Francesca," Sister Margaret told her. "You remember her. She left when…" Her face flushed and she returned her hands to the sleeves of her habit.
"Sister Francesca!" Sister Bernadette blurted out. "But what does Mother Alfreda's disappearance have to do with her? Are you saying she knew something?"
Sister Margaret made a small sound of protest.
"That's what we wanted to know," Matt said. "Her leaving at the same time seemed too coincidental, but after speaking to her, we don't think she had anything to do with it."
"Are you sure?" Sister Bernadette shook her head. "She wasn't a good girl, if I remember rightly. Don't you agree, Sister Margaret?"
Sister Margaret looked like she would burst into tears.
"Why did you mention her to us?" I asked gently. The nun looked troubled and not at all like she had cruel intentions toward Abigail. "Did you suspect she knew something? Or were you motivated for a different reason?"
Sister Margaret's lower lip wobbled. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together, holding her emotions in check.
I leaned forward and touched her arm. "Tell us what you know about Abigail Pilcher," I urged her. When she didn't speak, I added, "Did you know she was with child?"
She nodded. Neither she nor Sister Bernadette seemed surprised. If they both knew, perhaps the entire convent did.
Something black fluttered just outside the door. It could have been a bird, but was more likely a nun's habit. Someone was eavesdropping.
I sat back and glanced at Matt, lifting my eyebrow. He nodded, encouraging me to go on. I drew in a deep breath. "Did you know that Abigail is a magician?"
Sister Margaret's eyes flew open and she crossed herself. Sister Bernadette pressed the crucifix hanging around her neck to her lips. Her face turned as pale as her wimple.
Behind and above me, something cracked and wood grated against wood. I turned and looked up just in time to see the large cross plunging toward me.