Page 31 of The Sinner and the Scholar
Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions because I want to be more relevant than Team Saint. But I can’t help the inescapable feeling that Mary chose us. We Sinners are her new disciples, her messengers. And the men… they’re… I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I can’t trust them, and I want to fuck Wesley.
And that bugs me on both accounts.
After a while, I find the words blending and head down to the training room, where I belt out a few minutes against the boxing bag chained to the ceiling. I’m not the only one in the gym. Prue is here, as expected. I consider joining her, but she’s running on that treadmill like the devil is nipping at her heels.
I hope she’s just distracted by the mockingbirds flittering outside the window she’s facing. She used to walk in the garden and follow them. I’m sure she had a bird-watching diary somewhere. She would be so angry at me if I interrupted her and frightened them away. I asked her once why they enamor her.
“You ever read To Kill a Mockingbird?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“They’re a symbol of innocence.”
I wasn’t too sure. They’re also the state bird of Memphis, and she loves her Elvis.
Zeke walks in from one direction and Leila from another. I pick up my towel. The look they give each other reminds me of the burning distrust I feel for Wesley... or did. Do. Definitely still do. I’m not in the mood to play referee between them. Not in the mood to encourage a fight, either. I head to the indoor pool attached to the gym, but Tawny and Mercy are swimming. So I make a fast break, exit the room, and walk outside to the lake.
Mist drizzles. Perfect.
I remove my sweats and drape them over a lookout bench beneath the beech tree. Left in my one-piece Speedo, I wade into the lake. The water is cold, but it’s exactly the kind of thing I need to take my mind off things. Within minutes of swimming, all I’m thinking about is my breath, my heartbeat, and the pattern of my strokes. Soon I forget that Team Saint and a pair of honey eyes exist.
When I emerge, thoroughly worked out, I find Sister Margaret sitting on the bench. The last time she saw me, I was covered in blood and vomit. I plan to leave, but her look of serenity captures my attention. Rosy cheeks and a wistful smile are her makeup. The sun breaks through clouds and shines on her closed eyes. I almost feel bad crunching over gravel to retrieve my sweats. Disturbing her is the last thing I want… but somehow, I don’t silence my feet.
She sees me and broadens her smile. The allure of her contentment has me sitting next to her after I dress. Sniffing, I stare at the lake and worry my bottom lip with my teeth.
We sit in silence.
But while she’s seemingly comfortable, my nerves and anxiety twirl like they’re in a tornado. I haven’t felt this disturbed in years. I should be meditating, praying, or doing something to calm my busy mind, but the longer I sit there, the more I realize I’m so different from the woman beside me.
I’m envious. But also, I’m not.
She’s at peace with this monastic life she chose, but I know I’ll never accept it similarly. It’s not in me and never has been. I’m a fighter—a Thelma. I may not have started as confident as Louise, but I found it eventually.
Sister Margaret turns to me and squeezes my arm. I shouldn’t look at her because the moment I do, I’ll either burst into tears or do something equally unbefitting of a woman tough enough to be dropped into a war zone and emerge with more confidence than she left.
Her eyes are so pure and bright that I almost miss the concern wavering in them.
“I feel lost,” I reveal, surprising myself. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our special guests, and they’re just so—argh.”
I clench my fists on my thighs and glare at the lake. She keeps her hand on my arm and squeezes me.
Go on, she seems to say.
“We’ve dedicated our lives and souls to become what we are, and now they’re here, and I’m second-guessing everything.” I take a deep breath of fresh air, then blurt more out on my exhale. “They’re infuriating. Disrupting. I hate them. But… we need them. Don’t we? I mean, the Rev wouldn’t put us through this otherwise, right? I know the Vatican has been breathing down our necks since they discovered us, so maybe this was bound to happen, but I never expected it to be someone likehim.” Another deep breath. Another squeeze from Sister Margaret. “He seems to know his stuff, but… I don’t know. This wasmyjob. I’m the one everyone turns to for answers, and now I’m struggling and… gah. I hate feeling like this.”
I slide a hesitant glance to Sister Margaret, worrying that I’ve said too much and I’m making a fool of myself. Understanding is in her eyes, but a glimmer of unrest swims beneath the surface. I can’t tell if it’s on my behalf or for someone else.
“Drop me on a battlefield or ask me to walk into a club and track down a demon, and I’m good. I’m in my element,” I say.
Her brows wing up, and she cants her head. Suddenly, I realize why I’m feeling like this.
I nod. “You’re right. I’m trained to fight and not to accept help from strangers. Of course, this will be tough, and I should go easy on myself and take it one day at a time.”
Her rosy cheeks inflate as she grins, pats me gently on the arm, and then returns to staring at the water and the gorgeous sunset as it changes the sky, limning the clouds with gold. It was blue and gray a moment ago, and now it’s turquoise. Soon it will be orange.
“Then there’s the part where the prophecy says the enemy is from within,” I blurt, unable to help myself. “How can we trust them if that means the enemy is them? I mean, they’re here with us now. So, they’re technically within. I refuse to believe it means the enemy is one of us. So, I guess, unless the enemy is within myself…”
Sister Margaret waves her hand at the sky. I’m missing the sunset. I’m reading too much into this. Overthinking it when I should appreciate the wonder this world offers me.
