Chapter 8 #3
“This is Sister Lilith. She’s a woman of god and a professional lake swimmer.”
“Sister Jezebella,” Lilith said through gritted teeth as she elbowed me.
Clearing her throat, she smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.
I’m—I’m not that great of a swimmer, really,” she stammered, picking up her glass.
“This is heavy.” Inhaling and inspecting the bubbles, she looked up at me and whispered, “Is this… alcohol?”
Another laugh left my throat, this time accompanied by Batilda’s as well. “I just love nuns,” Batilda said after a moment, drying her eyes. “Enjoy, Sisters.”
I wished my friend farewell as she closed the window. “Cheers,” I said, lifting my pint.
“You can’t be serious.” Sister Lilith tucked the pint into her chest and covered it with her robes as if to hide it.
I lifted an eyebrow, suppressing my laughter because my ribs truly were starting to hurt from it. “What on earth are you doing to that poor brew?”
“Hiding it,” she whispered. “What if someone saw us? Isn’t that why you went through a secret passageway and to a window?”
“We went through the alley to the window because it’s faster and less full of loud, smelly men.”
“Won’t we get in trouble?”
“With who?”
“God, for one!” Sister Lilith screeched, increasingly agitated and more and more adorable. Like an angry little duckling. “Reverend Mother and the priests second!”
“Jesus’ first ever miracle was to turn water into wine for a bunch of drunk people at a wedding. I think he’d have a pint with us—so would Reverend Mother, though she’s more of a dark liquor person, from what I’ve gathered. She keeps a flask in her desk.”
“This is absurd. Your whole church, this whole town…” She shook her head, lacking conviction in her words. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “I fear nothing else will rid my mouth of those horrid Miss Honey patties.”
“Good girl.” I lifted my beer.
Lilith only stared at me blankly.
“Clink your glass to mine.”
“Like this?”
Our glasses clanked together.
“Very good. Now drink up.”
Lilith took three small sips for every one of my gulps. “It’s bitter,” she said, scrunching her face. “And bubbly… but it is taking the salty burn in my mouth away.”
“Good.” I smiled, sitting my half-full glass back on the window ledge.
“Are you sure we won’t get into trouble?” Sister Lilith took two heavier gulps.
“Tomorrow is Wednesday, which is confession day here, so you can just confess tomorrow if it’s still bothering you.”
“What?” Sister Lilith squeaked. “I can’t tell a priest—I can’t confess to—”
I put my hands on her shoulders, forcing her blue gaze to mine. “Hey, I’m just joking. We’re fine, you don’t have to confess anything to anyone.”
“You joke too much for a nun,” Sister Lilith said lowly.
I took her glass and sat it next to mine. “But not too much for a demon?”
Her full lips bloomed into a small smile. Something danced across her eyes and her perfect, delicate face. For a quick instance, I saw the girl from the lake again. Not the woman of god, not the holy girl, just a woman bare and free beneath the trees.
We’d happened upon each other unencumbered, naked, and liberated. Now, we clumsily navigated getting to know each other, fully covered, hidden, and bound by our vows.
Which version was the real Lilith?
Which version was the real Jezebella?
Was I even permitted to ponder such things or was the thought alone of who I was, who my sister in god was, and what we were beneath our holy callings, an act of sin in and of itself?
My attention drifted to her mouth, and like gravity pulling us together, I leaned forward. “Your lips,” I said just above a whisper. “I haven’t even tasted them yet and I know they are so sweet.”
A small breath pushed from her, and I wanted nothing more than to stay in that small chasm of reality untethered. Lilith’s eyelids heavied and my heart raced as I moved close enough to smell her vanilla scent. Just a hair’s distance between us, then something banged behind me.
I whipped around, seeing Batilda grab the two beer glasses. A man hollered from the bar in the background. “Come on, Batty, one more—it’s my birthday, after all.”
“You say it’s your birthday every drunken day, Archie.” The barkeep shot me an exasperated glance, having no clue what she’d just interrupted, or what she’d almost interrupted, rather. “How’s about you head home to your wife and sober up.”
Through the fog of cigar smoke in the dimly lit bar, I could faintly make out the wormy man leaning on the counter.
“My wife’s a wet rag of a woman. Don’t be fulfilling her marriage duties to me in the bedroom and does nothin’ but complain all the damn time.
Ya know, that’s why you gotta smack women around a little bit, helps ‘em behave. My true bride is these here libations.”
That snapped my attention forward, and I reached for Batilda’s arm. “Don’t send him back to Iris like this. Can he sleep it off on the couch in the supply room?”
The barkeep ran a hand through her short brown hair. “If he makes a mess, I’m calling on the holy nun, Sister Jezebella, to come clean it up.”
“I will, it’s fine. Thanks, Batilda.”
Throwing her towel back over her shoulder, she turned. “Come on, Arch, to the back with you—yes, yes, your birthday party awaits you, right next to the brooms and mops.” She closed the wooden window door and we were alone in the alleyway again.
Lilith gazed at the window for a moment. “That was nice of you…”
I shook my head. “Nice of me would be to put Archie in the ground so he never burdens his wife or children again.”
To my surprise, the holy woman across from me didn’t balk at that overly honest statement, only gazed at the window, seemingly lost in thought. She reached into the pocket of her robe, fiddling with something again. “I’ll pray for them tonight,” she said definitively after a moment.
“You go right ahead,” I replied, moving past her. “Light a candle, say some prayers, quote some scripture.” My shoulders tensed and the air in the alley suddenly felt dense. “We should head back. Time’s gotten away from me.”
Lilith’s footsteps pattered behind me, struggling to catch up. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, you say everything right. Such a good and righteous nun.”
“Why do I feel like you don’t mean that?”
“I do mean it, that’s the thing.”
“What’s wrong with prayer? Surely that man’s wife and children need it if that’s the man god has given them.”
Miss Gertrude pulled her cart filled with glass bottles of milk, nodding as she passed us.
I waved, faking a smile, before stopping by a lamppost, its flame still flickering in the grey of the overcast day.
“Prayer didn’t keep Miss Honey’s husband from suffering a gruesome death, falling from a cliff.
Prayer didn’t stop my old convent from kicking me out when I—when I—it doesn’t matter.
” I straightened my veil, feeling it tighten around my forehead.
Something burned and churned behind my ribs.
“Maybe prayer helps you feel better; if so, I’m glad for that, Sister Lilith.
But there’s never been an answering voice at the other end of any of mine.
What Iris Maison needs is more than candle wax and murmured words in a church sanctuary. ”
“We are the body of Christ.” Lilith furrowed her brows, looking up at me in both consternation and bafflement.
“We are the lord’s hands carrying out his love for his people.
Like you just did with Miss Honey and for Iris.
Those are answered prayers in themselves.
Did you ever think of that? Did you ever think that you are someone’s voice at the end of their line? ”
“That’s—” I opened my mouth to respond but the words withered away on the cool breeze. Lilith’s blue eyes looked up at me with wisdom wrapped in beauty. A small waft of blonde hair pushed out from under her head covering. I reached up, smoothing my thumb along her forehead.
A small gasp left her parted lips, as if she felt the electricity in the small, innocent contact, too. “That’s what? What were you going to say?”
Gently, I tucked her hair back under the white band. “Not what I expected you to say.”
“I’m full of surprises, Sister Jezebella.”
“That you are,” I said, my tone evening out into something low and tender. How could she soften me so quickly? How could this new girl, this visitor, extinguish the hot coals inside me with just a flutter of her long eyelashes?
My gaze pulled from hers to survey the square.
I caught the tails of Pandorian and Delilyx’s black tunics as they swooshed into Sal’s bakery.
They’d be in there for a while visiting with Sal and his husband, York.
Theirs was my favorite stop on our Tuesday elderly care visits because it came with chocolate croissants and powdered doughnuts.
However, if the other sisters were going to be occupied for a while, then we’d have a later lunch, which meant I wasn’t yet late for my arrival back to Altar Church.
I glanced over my shoulder, up the grassy hill, past the looming dark cathedral, and to the forest beyond. A question, a proposal, and a small hope burrowed into my soul as I asked, “Would you like to go back to the lake with me?”