Chapter 32 #2
The skull laughs. It’s a mean sound, harsh and mocking.
“Thou art not like me! That peasant wench was cleverer by far than my husband in the deal she made with the devil. Unlike my poor body, thy body shall not rot or alter. No peasants shall see thee and know thee as a walking corpse, and stone thee, and rip off thy flesh, and cut off thine head!”
“That is a kind of blessing, I suppose,” Sister Ursula says.
“And dost thou also forget that thou art free to leave whenever it so pleases thee, or didst thou not heed the girl when she told thee so?”
“What?” Sister Ursula asks. Elsebeth told her so much at once that she now fears she may not have understood her fully.
“Thou canst shuck off the burden of living as if it were no more than a shift clinging to thy skin. Not I. I may only die with my husband’s leave, and now that the devil has dragged him home to Hell, I am as cursed as the wandering Jew, who mocked poor Christ and must now walk the earth until the Second Coming.
Yet what crime did I commit?” the skull laments.
“Surely it won’t come to that. God’s love for us is endless.” Despite everything that has happened, Sister Ursula still believes this. She feels the truth of it like a flame in her chest.
“’Tis not. Thine Elsebeth has damned herself and is beyond His love now.”
“No one is beyond God’s love, or His love wouldn’t be endless.”
“Then why has He not called me home?” the skull asks, and for once, she doesn’t rage; she doesn’t sneer or spit.
Her voice is small now, yet contains infinite sadness, and Sister Ursula sees her not as a holy relic, but as what remains of a woman abused almost beyond endurance, all because her husband could not let her go.
Elsebeth has a seed of that possessiveness inside of her, yes, but even at the depths of her despair, she has not been blind to the fact that Sister Ursula is her own person, and has ensured that Sister Ursula is free to leave her, even though that would mean she sold her soul for nothing.
Sister Ursula feels her own sadness rise in her veins like sap. To the skull, she says, “I don’t know why you are still alive. It’s not up to us to understand His ways, now is it? All we can do is trust in His love and hope for the best.”
“I know not if I have any strength left in me to hope,” the skull confesses.
“Then I shall hope for the two of us,” Sister Ursula says and opens her arms. The skull hesitates, then floats over, lands on Sister Ursula’s lap, and presses her face against her belly. Sister Ursula strokes the long red hair as the skull moans and shakes.
When the skull grows still, Sister Ursula picks her up so she can look her in the eye. “I will help you. I don’t know how, but I will try. But there must be no more lies between us, do you understand?”
“How wilt thou help me? I am with Elsebeth still.”
“That’s all right. I shall return to her as soon as I wake. There are some things I must say to her.”
* * *
Come morning, Sister Ursula finds Elsebeth is still at the crossroads. She is gathering the skull’s bones and placing them in her pack. When she sees Sister Ursula approach, she stands, holding a rib as if it is a knife, her dear face scowling. The flesh around her snake eyes is red and puffy.
For a while, they don’t say anything, just stand and look at each other. Then, Sister Ursula takes the dew-damp hem of her skirt in hand and raises the cloth toward Elsebeth’s face.
Elsebeth briefly closes her eyes, whimpers. Then, her face hardens, and she steps out of reach, her grip on the rib so tight that her knuckles are almost the same color as the bone. “You left me,” she says. Her voice is ragged; how long did she weep and scream after Sister Ursula ran?
Sister Ursula takes a shuddering breath. “I did. But I have come back now.”
“Why?”
Sister Ursula puts her hand in her pocket and winds her fingers through the strands of her rosary; the beads feel cool, hard, and pleasant, giving her strength.
“One of the hardest things to do in this life is to maintain your faith in God when this wicked world is full of horror and suffering. I choose to believe that God is kind and good, even if I can’t always see it.
His love for us, His imperfect children, is endless.
But I was also taught that there are some sins God does not forgive. Adultery. Murder.”
She rubs the rosary beads until they feel hot and rough against her fingers as she searches for the right words to express what she feels so keenly.
“This has always chafed at me. If God’s love is endless, then how can He condemn someone to suffer in Hell for all eternity?
There must be a chance at redemption and forgiveness, because if there isn’t, then His love is conditional and thus not endless.
It seems, then, that I have to choose once again what to believe. ”
“And what do you believe?” Elsebeth asks, face half fear, half hope.
“I choose love, always. And if God’s love is unceasing, then He must still love you, Elsebeth, no matter that you turned your back on Him.
And if He still loves you, then He shall offer you a way to come home to Him once more.
It shall be hard, because infinite love does not mean no correction or punishment, but I believe you are not beyond salvation, and I…
I want to help you on your search for redemption. ”
“Why?”
“It’s because of me that you have sold your soul, and so I share in your sin.”
Elsebeth bares her teeth. “I told you that it’s not like that. If it’s only for pity’s sake that you came back to me, only to soothe your sore and sorry conscience, then—”
“How can you think that?” Sister Ursula cries out.
“Do you not feel that I love you terribly? Had you been anyone else, your damnation would not have affected me so violently. I love you so much, I can scarcely speak of it. You have crept inside my heart and taken root there, and unlike a dandelion, I cannot rip you out.”
“Taraxacum officinale. The common dandelion,” Elsebeth murmurs.
Despite everything, Sister Ursula laughs a little. “Yes, indeed.”
For a moment, there is silence between them, charged and awkward.
Then, Sister Ursula reaches for Elsebeth, because it is agony to stand so close and yet not touch her.
She pulls the girl close to her, dropping kisses on her mouth, her cheek where Sister Ursula’s teeth have left a purplish mark, her nose, even those hated eyes.
After a while, Elsebeth gently cups Sister Ursula’s face, stopping the gentle rain of kisses, and asks, “What about your sisters, the ones who still live? Would you abandon them for my sake? Do your vows even allow it?”
“I am loyal to God alone, and what He wants now is for me to aid you as you find a way back to Him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Why else would He have put you in my path? If everything happens for a reason, I see no other one that makes sense.”
Elsebeth’s flaming eyes brim with tears. It’s a strange sight, like an ember burning underwater. “What if I am beyond saving?”
Sister Ursula brushes away the tears with her thumbs. “Then I am likely Hell bound too, and we shall be damned together. But first, we live.”
“But first, we live,” Elsebeth repeats. Her dear face cracks into a smile, which only disappears when she kisses Sister Ursula deeply.