Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 36

Tina woke up, lying on the bed in her room, and it was very quiet.  Now what are I'm going to do?  If I just admit who I am . . . I'll end up in prison, let's face it.  Impersonating a nun can't be too popular with God, either.  


She sat up, feeling groggy.  "How are you going to talk yourself out of this one?"


It was evening.  Whatever medication they had given her had caused her to sleep the whole day.  It was darkening fast, and she had to figure a way out and soon.  Things were closing in on her.  I have to get out of here!  The longer I am here, the closer I am to being found out.  I can't keep this up much longer.


Sister Rebecca Katherine was beside herself.  "Poor Bea.  Where can she have gone?"


Sister Elizabeth Mary said, "I don't know, but we must find her.  The police will have to be notified in a few hours."


"I know one of the head cops in Llanview.  Shall we call him?  Possibly he might help, eh?"


"You can't call him without Father's approval."


"Sister, as much as I respect ya, Father didn't approve anything the first 30 years of my life, and much of that was right here at St. Anne's.  Sometimes, you just have to do something because you believe it will work.  If he's going to report her missing in a few hours, there's no reason I can't help out and do it now.  McBain's  . . . let's say, a friend."  She hurried to the phone, and dialed.


"Lieutenant, please help.  One of our patients has gone missing," she said, without any formal greeting.


"Hello, Sister, calm down and give me the details."  John said.  She went ahead and did so, including some information about the experiences she had with Bea that might explain her a bit more.  John said, "I'm on it.  I'll get back to you, Sister."


Hanging up, the nun was very distraught.  She had never lost a patient, in all her years.  Since it had never happened before, she was even more upset, for some reason, that it had to be now, when this poor fragile woman came to St. Anne's.  Becoming more and more agitated, she called her brother for support.  


Timothy, just lying on his back, with Dorian draped over him on the penthouse couch, was able to reach the phone without disturbing her.  "Creena," he spoke quietly, but Dorian woke, "What is it, Dearest?"  He listened, then said, "Oh my.  Tell me more, and calm down, Creena, you're losing control of your senses."


"I've never lost a patient.  I've never had this happen.  And the poor thing, she's not well.  She doesn't speak, she can't, which means she won't be able to ask anyone for help."


He sat up, and Dorian pulled the throw over her and did the same.  "She can't speak?" he asked.


"She's a mute.  We're not certain why.  I feel so terrible, I had to call ya.  I needed your support, ya know, to pull me up by my boot strings."


"I may be giving ya more than that," he said.  "I think I know where your friend is.  What was her name, Bea?"


"Yes."


He went on to tell her about the visit with Jack and the woman in the park.  He described her to the nun, and her voice changed from misery to hope.  "Yes, that sounds like her!  Oh my goodness, how did she get all the way to Llanview Center?"


"I don't know, but it seems this is your friend for certain.  I'll take care of it."  He looked at his watch.  It was becoming evening, time for beds to be turned down at the center.  


"No," the nun said, thinking better of it.  "I should come into town, and see her myself.  She'll be frightened and may get upset or have an outburst.  Wait for me, Dear Brother."


He agreed.  Looking to Dorian, he said, "Dorie, I'm .  . ."


She shushed him, and put her fingers to his lips.  "Shhh.  It's fine, you have to take care of this.  I can tell your sister is in some kind of peril."  


He said, "Yes, she's quite upset."


"It's all right."


He said, "What just happened, I cannot think of any other way to say it.  Beautiful."


"Yes," Dorian blushed, then second guessed herself for her high-school-girl behavior.  She knew something was up with the nun, but couldn't help think he wanted their encounter behind them.  


He said, "Will ya wait for me?"


She looked to him, and smiled.  You spoke too soon, 'Dorie.'  "You mean here?"


"Yes.  Will ya?  We can't let the evening end, now can we?"


She nodded, "I'll wait."


"There's a hot tub upstairs, off the master bedroom.  I can run it for ya, and ya can take a nice soak while I'm gone, if ya like."


"That does sound inviting," she said.


He leaned toward her, "I don't want this to end, Dorie.  I'll be back," he said, going up the staircase to change for his expedition to the mission.  


Dorian followed him, draped in the blanket, and stepped into the master bedroom.  She said, "Blair has wonderful taste."


"She does.  It's a lovely penthouse," he called from the bathroom.  She heard the shower run for a few minutes.  Coming out, he had on a pair of jeans and a sweater.  "I'll be back, I promise ya."


"I believe you."  She heard the bath running, and he left her.  She  went to the bed and took his pillow.  Holding it to her, she said, "I'll be here."


***


An hour later, Sister Rebecca Katherine's driver parked outside the mission.  Looking out the window, she said, "Yes, this is the place.  Stay here, will you?"


The driver agreed, and she opened her door.  It was bitterly cold, and she pulled her coat closer around her.  Walking to the door, it opened and Timothy was already there.  She said, "Brother, where is she?"


He said, "You're not going to like this, Creena."


"No," she said, predicting what was coming.  "She's here, isn't she?"


"She's not.  She left.  Earlier.  Everyone here is an adult, they make their own choices.  I never thought she was a mental patient.  Jack and I assumed she was homeless."


"Of course, it's not your fault."


He said, "She left this."


Sister Rebecca Katherine took the piece of paper from him.  "Oh my."


"Is she an artist?"


"She is.  This is Jack."


"Yes, it is.  She drew it before she ran.  The staff told me that someone tried to take it from her and she got upset, and when he wrestled it from her, she got angry and left.  They cannot hold them here, it's not a prison."


"I understand.  My goodness, such a perfect likeness."


"She took to him in an instant.  It was . . . awkward, to say the least, for Jack.  She tried to touch his face and the boy was frightened."


"Well, I'll head home.  I also called John McBain, perhaps he'll have better luck."


"I'm sorry, Creena, I thought this would be the answer.  We were just a bit too late."


"It's all right," she said, going back to the limo.


***


There.  That might make a good spot.  I want to rest.  She put herself onto the bench, in the park and looked up.  She was not far from the edge of the woods, where she could cross back into the forest and come out at The Place Where the Nice Nun Was.  Tomorrow.  She would go back to The Place Where the Nice Nun Was tomorrow.  It was very cold, but she had gloves.  They were big and dirty, but she had stolen them from the man who took her drawing from her.  He took the drawing of her angel.  I need My Angel.  He guides me and keeps me here, where people are.  Not in my head, lost.  Not in my head.  He keeps me out.


Resting her tired feet, she watched as people went by.  It was getting dark, and she was afraid of darkness.  She had always had a certain fear of it; especially after The Time of Black, and she was still prone to feeling panicked when faced with total darkness.  The thing about the park was that it would never be completely dark; there were fountains, streetlights, and lampposts dotting the edges and the paths leading through.  This park, in particular, had a few bus stops along the way; the plastic outdoor closet that people would wait for the buses in.  She noticed where all three booths were, if she needed one later, and brought her feet up under her to keep them warmer.


If I stayed at that place, the warm one with the people, and the man who stole My Angel, I could have slept in a bed.  But I've slept without beds before.  Yes, I have.  Beds.  Beds are bad, sometimes.  Besides, beds are not all what people think they are.  They can be places of pain and death.  I needed My Angel, and that man has him.  He took him from me.  He took him from me again.  No, wait, Bea, that's not the same man!  That can't be the same man.  The One Who Hurt Us did the bad things before The Time of Black.  The One Who Hurt Us took me from My Angel first.  The One Who Hurt Us, he. . . I can't remember now.  My Angel would know.  He would tell me if he were here.  I can call to him, with my heart, and see will he come.  I can call to him right now.  


She closed her eyes.  She put her hands into her sleeves and kept her eyes shut, wishing in her heart for her angel to appear.  He did not come to her, but she continued to try.  Try, Bea, try.  Remember? Remember what The Evil One said?  He said I would never see My Angel again, but he was wrong.  He was wrong.  My Angel was here today.  Today.  He was in front of me, and he was tall and strong.  The One Who Hurt Us did not win.  When he hurt us, both of us, me, and My Angel, he did not win.  My Angel did not die, like they said he did.  He did not die.  They wanted to make me crazy, like I don't know.  But he did not die.  He's alive.


*** 


Sister Rebecca Katherine dragged herself back into St. Anne's after bidding her driver good night.  "Not a good evening, I'm afraid," she said aloud, and in the lobby, Sister Elizabeth Mary was there, waiting.  


"Did you find her, Sister?"


"No.  She was there, and she had already left.  She's lost.  Luckily, I've already put this information into John McBain's ear.  He'll help us, God willing."  She paused.  "What about that other one?"


"You mean ex-Sister Martina?  She's been confined to her room all day.  What do you make of her?"


"Nothing good, let's say.  I don't believe for one minute she's sick, any more than she was a clergywoman.  I'd sooner believe she was a leprechaun, to be honest with ya."


"You're worried.  About Bea."


"Of course I am.  The poor thing, she's out there, somewhere, alone and unable to communicate."


"She will turn up, likely tomorrow."


"But what will she do this evening?  Alone, in the cold?  At least before, I believed she would have a warm bed."


"It's awful, really."


"Nothing we can do.  Let's turn in, and get the rest we need to be productive tomorrow.  John will call if something happens."


"Good night, Sister."


"Good night, Dear."  Sister Rebecca Katherine said.  On her way to her room, she passed Tina's door, and stopped, staring at it.  She said to herself, "'Would the young woman be up?"


She lifted her hand and rapped delicately on the door.  She waited, and heard nothing.  As she made her way away from the doorway, it opened.  "Yes?"  It was Tina, awake, in her nightgown.  


The nun turned back to her, "Good evening."


Tina said, "What happened to that woman?  The one that was with you, drawing all the time?"


The nun folded her arms over her chest.  "She's gone.  She's . . . missing."


"Missing?"


"Your commotion upset her.  She's run off."


"I see."


"Just who are you, and why are you here?  You must realize that I, for one, don't believe you are mentally ill."


She did not answer.  She just said, "I'm not well.  I'm going to sleep."


"You are well.  You are perfectly well.  And whatever it is you are doing must stop.  I trust you will do the right thing, and either deal with whatever you're doing, or leave here.  If you'll excuse me."


Tina had seen the nun in action for several days, and had never seen her quite so cold.  She closed her door, and returned to the bed.  "Tomorrow," she said aloud, "something breaks."


***


It is beautiful.  The sky is full of stars.  Look, I can see all of them.  I could count them, but I am tired.      She was lying on her back, now, facing up to the heavens.  A passerby had earlier handed her a blanket, and she had taken it, putting it over herself.  Regardless of the deep chill in the air, she did not flinch or let it bother her.  Instead, she focused on the stars.  In her mind's eye, she could see Her Angel.  He was standing beside her, and he put his hand on her shoulder.  She looked up to him, his longish hair surrounding his handsome face.  You came.  You came because I called you.  My heart called you.  Do you know how much you mean to me, My Angel?  The One Who Hurt Us can't hurt us now.  I'm so glad you are alive.  You're here, aren't you?  Aren't you?  You look different than I remember you.  You look different, but I know it's you.  No one could really take you away.  They can't because you live in me.  Don't try and run away again.  No matter what.  I'll always be with you.  


It was silent.  The only sound was the rustle of a few discarded leaves of fall against the path.


Do you forgive me, My Child?


She closed her eyes, and the night was a quiet indigo around her.


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