“I regret it every day of my life,” Manuel said, and when I looked over, I saw that he was trying very hard not to cry.
“She would be proud of you today, giving an old nun a ride to her hotel,” I said, and reached over to pat his arm.
“It is nothing,” he said. “Any decent man would have done the same.”
When we arrived at my hotel, he told me to wait a moment, and then he ran around to open the door for me, like he was a chauffeur. “I will pray that your son appears to you, Sister. That God reunites your family.”
I stood, and with my bag in my hand I looked into Manuel’s eyes.
As I reached up and touched Manuel’s face, I noticed the tattoos just under his ears, which he had tried to hide by flipping up the collar of his button-down shirt and wearing a faded red bandanna around his neck.
“You were my son today, Manuel,” I said, and kissed him on the cheek. “I will pray for you too. And nun prayers are very powerful!”
Tears collected in his eyes as he stood up straight and kept a stoic face.
“Thank you, Sister,” he said and then left me.
Maybe God had sent Manuel to me as a sort of surrogate son?
Or maybe Manuel was an angel?
I thought of Hebrews 13:2: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
Inside the hotel, I found that the Crab had booked me a room with a partial view of the Gulf of Mexico. I had a small balcony from which I could watch almost one-half of the sun set over the greenish blue water, which is exactly what I did as I sipped on a minibar vodka over rocks, thinking that if death was really coming, I might as well have some vodka, because I loved it so much before I became a nun, as you know.
I thought about Manuel and I thought about you, wondering if you might be helping someone else’s mother. I wished that I could let Manuel’s mother know about his act of kindness, rescuing an old dying nun from her own stupidity. I hope to meet her in heaven, which may be sooner rather than later.
The water on the horizon burned orange and yellow and pink until it swallowed the sun and the stars began to pierce the sky above. I was not hungry, but I did empty the minibar of vodka, as there were only a few little bottles. As I sat alone on my balcony, I began to feel strange pains and aches in my chest and stomach. I shook my head and again wondered if that young doctor had made me sick with her tests and science and seriousness. I knew it was a foolish thought, but I had felt fine before she had me stuck into those awful machines and took pictures of my insides, before she gave me her learned opinion.
I tried to enjoy the sound of water lapping up the beach and the smell of the Gulf breezes in my nose—to relish the moment for all it was worth, because it had been a long time since I’d been alone in a hotel room, and I did manage to find some comfort that night.
The high-thread-count sheets and king-size comforter were like the clouds of heaven—I could have rolled over ten times before I found the end of the bed—and I fell asleep just as soon as my head hit the pillow.
In my dreams the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to me in a vision, right in my hotel room. She looked no older than Dr. Kristina.
“My daughter,” Mother Mary said to me, smiling mysteriously. “You must go home immediately.”
“But I’m booked in this hotel for three nights.”
“As soon as possible,” the Virgin Mary said. “Return to the convent.”
Then she blinked out of existence.
When I woke up the next morning, I was somehow sitting on the balcony, with my head resting on the small table and mini-vodka bottles all around my feet!
Did I sleepwalk?
I telephoned the Crab right away and told her what I had seen in my dreams.
Mother Superior said, “The Blessed Virgin visited my dreams last night as well. ‘Confirm Maeve’s message,’ was all She said to me. And then I woke up sleeping in your bed. I don’t even remember walking through the hallways. I prayed thanks that none of our sisters found me there.”
“So what should I do?” I said, looking at the morning sunlight dancing across the distant water like so many lit sparklers.
“Did you discover anything at the broken shrine?”
“Nothing.”
“We cannot disobey the Blessed Virgin. I will call you back in fifteen minutes.”
When the phone rang again, the Crab had booked me a flight home to Philadelphia.
I boarded that night and found that I was in the very last row. Right up until they sealed up the plane for takeoff, I thought that I was going to have the row to myself, but then a drunken woman stumbled back to me and sat down. Her head was wobbly, because she had consumed so much alcohol. I couldn’t believe they let her on the plane.
I was concerned at first, but then I thought maybe this woman had information for me—maybe she was the reason Mother Mary sent me home early—so I said hello and tried to strike up conversation, but she soon passed out.
They could not wake her when we landed, and so I was trapped between this drunk woman and the window as all of the other passengers exited.
After all I had been through, I was very tired. I just wanted to meet the Crab and return to the convent—maybe take a shower.
Finally the drunk woman woke up, and I was free.
I found the Crab outside in our idling car, pretending to read the Word of God in Hebrew and Greek on her iPad, and I got in.
“Well,” she said, shielding the screen from me as she turned the machine off. “Find any clues on the flight?”
“Clues?”
“As to why the Blessed Virgin demanded that you return home early.”