Page 51 of Javier

She blinked several times. “How’s that?”

“All my life, I was the younger, the weaker, the lesser. My father treated me as if I were a permanent baby and an imbecile to boot, and my fainting spells reinforced that impression. My sisters took care of me. I was a burden to them. After I graduated from nursing school, I went directly to work with the order, and I felt differently. As if I were capable. As if I had a purpose in mylife. Maybe I do belong in the convent after all.”

“You’re capable in every way, child, but you won’t accept that unless you go back and reclaim your life.” Sister Elsa turned her cane between her long fingers. “It’s trial and error. I reckon you may yet find your purpose.”

“I’m going to miss you so much.” I swallowed a bunch of tears. “You’re the best.”

“True.” She grinned readily. “Although that Irish crone blabbering out there gives me a run for my money. I just look wiser, you know. More dignified.” She leaned forward, cupped her mouth with her hands, and still smiling, pretended to whisper. “I play the part better.”

I laughed at that and then, contemplating the unknown, sobered up. “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“Growing up, I had my sisters to protect me,” I murmured, haltingly. “In the last three years I’ve had you, Sister Janet, and the order watching over me.”

“You know where to find us,” she reminded me kindly “You’ll always have us.”

“It’s just that… I’m not very brave.”

“Oh, my word.” She shook her head. “How wrong you are, child. You were so courageous when you faced those thugs at the compound. You were fierce last night when you fought those vile mercenaries. You ran like the wind to help Javier last night. You’re so much braver than you know.”

“And then I freaking fainted.” I grimaced and my shoulders slumped.

“So what if you were born with an on and off switch?” She reached out, found my hand, and patted it gently. “For three years, you’ve fought malnutrition and disease, and you did so with great courage.”

“I’m a nurse,” I huffed. “It’s what I’m trained to do.”

“You did more than your job. I reckon, in my heart, that you’re ready. It’s time to stop running, Missy. From your family. From yourself. From your dreams.”

I gawked. “You know about that?”

“Of course.”

“How?” I asked, my voice a little raspy. “Are you a dreamer, too?”

“Nonsense, child.” She waved a languid hand in the air. “It was easy to see.”

“I mean no disrespect, but you’re blind, Sister.”

“My eyes might be hard of seeing, but my ears are 20/20.” She flashed a mellifluous grin. “I heard you tossing and turning in your cot many nights. I noticed how you shot up from bed to find a poisonous frog in a bucket or a nest of scorpions in the pantry. You didn’t talk to anyone outside the compound, and yet you warned us about the troops coming to burn the orphanage.”

She might be blind but she saw more than everyone else.

“I pay attention,” she continued. “I heard you call out Javier’s name in your sleep. It was quite the shocker when a man called just so came to our succor. It was also a revelation and the reason I agreed to travel with him. You dreamed about him before he came to our rescue.”

So that’s why she’d been surprised when Javier first mentioned his name. I blushed so hard my face burned.

“You’ve gone quiet,” she noted. “Did I embarrass you? How unkind of me.”

“You were always kind to me. You both were,” I added as Sister Janet boarded the van and plopped down next to Sister Elsa. “Thank you.”

“Off with ye.” Sister Janet waved a stocky hand in the air. “He’s eagerly waiting fer ye.”

I followed her eyes to where Javier stood next to the car. “I doubt the ‘eagerly’ part.”

Sister Janet snorted. “Fer feck’s sake, wain, are ye blinder than Sister Elsa here?”

“What do you mean?”

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