Page 50 of Prodigal Son

“Oh my heavens,” the woman gasped, her slender fingers covering her full lips. “Vito, is it really you?”

Confused, Destiny looked back at her brother, who looked equally caught off guard. “Uh…Yeah?”

The woman smiled and laughed, the sound melodic and enchanting. “Don’t you recognize me? Oh, of course you don’t. Not dressed like this, anyway.” She gripped his arm with unmistakable familiarity. “It’s me, Larissa.”

Destiny’s jaw dropped and she and Vito both blurted, “Larissa the nun?”

CHAPTER 17

Cybil handed Cain the pliers and he tightened the last wire on the bull pen. The sun passed overhead long ago, falling behind the tree line and painting the land in hues of gold, making it harder to work in the growing shadows.

“That should keep the beast in for a while.” Of all their bulls, this one was the least tame. Clive had plowed into practically every foot of fencing along the corral, tangling the lines into a sure mess over the past few months.

The Elders were considering putting the brute down, but Cain shared a sort of kinship to the old bull, a sort of sympathy for his misunderstood life that set him apart from the more gentle creatures of the farm.

Cybil pointed to the ornery animal and tapped two fingers of her right hand over two fingers of her left hand.

“What’s his name?” Cain had been studying the sign language book at night. He was far from fluent, but it was nice to have a means for communicating with Cybil.

She nodded and pointed to the bull as he huffed and stomped at the ground.

“Clive.”

She shaped her hands like claws, palms toward her face and dragged them down to her belly. He didn’t know what that meant, but her scrunched face gave him a clue.

“Is he angry?” When she nodded, he said, “If he rams this fence one more time, I’m going to be the angry one. Let’s go find some supper.”

He gathered his tools and checked that the lock on the gate was secure. Cybil caught his wrist and looked up at him, rapidly signing then pointing to a scrape on his hand.

He looked at the wound. It would be gone in a matter of minutes. Stuffing his hand in his pocket, hoping she would forget about it, he pointed to his parents’ house. “I’ll race you. Winner gets a slice of Gracie’s pie.”

Cybil took off, and he ran after her. Colby barked and trailed after them.

The fading sun lit the sky in radiant shades of purple and gold. The air smelled of incoming snow, and he wondered if he should have Dane help him haul wood from the shed.

“Where the devil are you two racing in from?” Grace greeted then scalded, “Good grief, your boots are caked with mud! Go put them by the door.”

Cain’s head lifted when he noticed Dane standing by the door. “I’m thinking we might want to add to the wood pile tonight, Dane. The air smells of snow.”

“Later. I have a message for you.” Every day Dane’s voice grew deeper. He held up a folded slip of paper with the bishop’s wax seal.

Cain rose, leaving his boots on his feet. The bishop only sent messages when he required someone’s presence or had private business to share. He tore open the seal.

“What is it?” Gracie asked, Cain’s thoughts no longer susceptible to her nosey ways.

“It doesn’t say.” All the note contained was a heavily scribbled order that he report to the bishop’s home immediately.

“Is it Larissa? The baby—”

“I’m sure Larissa is fine.” He put Gracie’s worries to rest. “If anything was wrong, he would have sent for you or the healer. It’s probably just council business.”

Cybil clenched his hand in a tight fist. Sometimes her eyes said more than her hands ever could.

“Sorry, munchkin. You can’t come with me this time, but you can stay here and get that first slice of pie. Fair is fair.”

Cybil smiled and released his hand.

The bishop was the last male Cain wanted to see. But he also didn’t want to leave him waiting. They were equally strong-willed males, both stubborn and committed to their values, but he and Eleazar didn’t always see eye to eye.

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