Heathersleigh Homecoming (22 page)

Amanda was quiet for the remainder of the walk back to the chalet.

Sister Anika was used to such a response to her story. It always made people think, whether they agreed or disagreed with her.

 35 
Deep Intelligence

An interesting association may have fallen into our laps,” said a man of dubious tongue. He might have been either Swiss or Italian, though in truth his accent, along with the name by which he was known, was an integral aspect of the constantly changing disguise by which he kept his true loyalties, if he had any, to himself. “Are you still seeking a means for infiltrating the British Admiralty and cabinet?”

“Of course,” replied the other, whose uniform gave away his allegiances without any attempt to hide them. “Infiltration is the objective of intelligence. We have contacts in that direction, moles and others we have turned to our cause. But when it comes to spies in the enemy's camp, one can never be oversupplied.”

“A young Englishman has recently been sent my way. He is looking for a woman, but that is a minor sidelight to the greater issue. He may be useful to you.”

“How so?”

“He is associated with a fringe operation which apparently has roots in Vienna and connections with the Black Hand. But mostly what I find intriguing is that several of them are actually English.”

The Prussian nodded with significant expression.

“And they have been active on behalf of the Alliance?” he asked.

“Apparently for some time. The contact I speak of has connections in Britain, carries an English passport, and may be an ideal candidate for an assassination. Perhaps he might even be induced to make the hit himself, although from his looks I doubt he has the stomach for it.”

“Can you find out?”

“I might arrange a test of his resolve—to see what he is made of.”

“What is your own role in the affair?”

“I have been enlisted, as I said, to help him locate a woman who has apparently defected from their camp. I have the feeling there
is more to it, but that is all I have been told. But the links to their organization are what I thought might interest you.”

“You did well by coming to me, Fabrini. But it is not the Black Hand itself?”

“No, it is more English than Serbian.”

“What is this organization called?” asked the Prussian.

“I don't know yet. My contact, an Italian, has told me little.”

“Find out, then contact me. It may be just what we need to penetrate Whitehall. If the double assassination is to be successful, we will have to use their own people. Find out the name of this network.”

“I will do what I can.”

“Are you handling the affair personally?”

“Don't worry, Wolfrik—I will see the thing through. In the early stages, I will keep to the background. I have an operative, a useful but expendable fellow, who will help in this regard. But I will be nearby.”

 36 
Christmas Plans

As they sat around the fireplace one evening, Sister Hope brought up the subject of the approaching holiday season.

“What will you all be doing for Christmas this year?” she asked.

“My family will all be together for the first time since I came here,” said Sister Regina. “I will be going back to Barcelona for two weeks.”

“That will be wonderful for you!”

“My father is gone, as you know, but I haven't seen my little baby sister in years. She is a grown woman now.”

“I will be leaving the day after our Christmas party,” said Sister Marjolaine. “Three of my brothers are meeting my sister and me in Lyon. We are all going to surprise our mother with a visit for Christmas. It will be her first Christmas without my father.”

“Does everyone leave for Christmas?” asked Amanda, suddenly wondering if she would be left alone.

“No, dear, only those who have families to celebrate with,” replied Sister Hope. “I will be here, and perhaps two or three of the others. We celebrate Christmas together a week or two early. Then those who are going home leave.”

“My family is traveling to the Mediterranean,” said Sister Galiana. “So I will stay with you at the chalet. Someone has to care for the animals.”

“Well, I am certain I could manage!” Hope laughed. “But I will be happy to have you with me as well.”

For the moment, Amanda said no more. Talk of Christmas filled her with strange feelings that she did not want to think about.

Even in the midst of their discussions of family and Christmas plans, none of the sisters asked Amanda whether she might be thinking of returning to her home for Christmas. Most, including Sister Hope, had already begun to suspect that family strife lay somewhere at the root of her occasional quiet moods and the fact
that she was obviously in no hurry to leave the chalet. But the time to approach the matter more directly had not yet come.

“What about you, Sister Clariss?” Hope asked.

“I will go home for a week,” she answered.

“And you, Sister Gretchen?”

“My sister and I will go to Munich, as long as it continues safe. I do not think anyone will mind two single women crossing the German border and then coming back.”

“I would like to go home,” added Sister Anika. “But I fear the war is too close. My mother has written to tell me to stay here.”

“That is unfortunate. This war is a dreadful thing. I pray it doesn't interfere with the rest of your plans.”

As if reinforcing her cautions and reminding them that the world was indeed at war in spite of how sheltered they happened to be from it, the next day a message arrived from one of the nuns at the Catholic church down in Interlaken. Sister Hope told the others about it at their evening meal.

“It seems there is a young Muslim woman down in the valley,” she said, “cast adrift by the war—a Serbian from Albania whose husband was killed. I don't know the details of how she ended up here, but Sister Stephanie, from the convent there, said she has no place to go. She spoke with Father Stein, who suggested that we might help. What do the rest of you think?”

“I would be happy to go down and meet her,” said Sister Luane. “I speak several of the dialects of that region—at least enough to get by.”

“Obviously we will take her in, will we not?” said Sister Gretchen.

“Such was my first thought,” Hope replied. “But I thought we should pray about it together. It would be a different situation than we have faced before. In the meantime, perhaps, Sister Luane, you could go down to the valley tomorrow and take the train into Interlaken. If you feel so led after meeting her and talking with Sister Stephanie, and if you think the young woman would benefit from time at the chalet, bring her back with you.”

 37 
Persuaded by the Heart

One morning Amanda arose early. She came downstairs to find a fire already burning in the fireplace, the smell of coffee pervading the room, and Sister Agatha sitting in an overstuffed chair in front of the hearth.

“Good morning!” said Amanda. “You're up bright and early.”

“Good morning, Amanda,” replied Sister Agatha. “I might say the same of you.”

“That coffee smells good—do you mind if I join you?”

“Of course not, there is plenty.”

Amanda walked to the kitchen, poured herself a small cup, to which she added a generous portion of cream, then returned to the fire.

“I couldn't sleep,” Agatha said. “So I got up and decided to put the time to good use.”

Amanda watched her for a moment or two at some mysterious tiny needlework activity with which Sister Agatha's fingers were busily engaged.

Sister Agatha was a round woman, almost as wide as she was tall, the very image of the rotund, robust farmer's wife. Yet she had never married. She was always busy. Amanda had never seen her hands idle, except during a few occasions during their evening story times when she became so engrossed that her hands would unconsciously come to a stop.

“What is that you're doing?” Amanda asked at length.

“It's called tatting—do you know it?”

“Uh, no . . . but it looks familiar for some reason.”

“Here, I'll show you how it's done. Sit down beside me.”

Amanda stood, then sat down on the couch next to Sister Agatha.

As Agatha began to explain the process, an image came into Amanda's mind as she watched the fingers and shuttle flying along, a mental picture of a cottage in the woods.

As had occurred on several previous occasions, the years fell away. It was now Maggie's voice saying almost the same words as Sister Agatha just had, trying to teach her the intricate process. But Amanda had been prickly and unteachable and had not wanted to learn.

Amanda now recalled the disappointed look on Maggie's face and the rude remark that had fallen from her own tongue.

She hadn't thought of the incident in years. Now the memory stung and she almost felt a tear rise in her eye. She forced herself back to the present.

“ . . . and then you tie it off . . . like that,” Sister Agatha concluded. “Then the process starts all over again. Would you like to try it?”

“Not now,” replied Amanda. “I don't think I could concentrate on it. But I would like to another time.” She paused momentarily. “Do you mind if I ask how you came to live here at the chalet?” she asked after a moment.

“Of course not,” Agatha replied. “I was born in a small village just over the hills. It is only four or five miles away. I see my parents every few weeks. I am very close to my mother.”

“Why do you live here?”

“I love this ministry and wanted to be part of it. My parents are very poor and their cottage is small. My living here saved them the expense of supporting an unmarried daughter. And when I sell my lace and needlework, I give them what it brings to help with necessities. I suppose I will move back to the cottage when their health begins to fail and they need care. Living here is a help to us all financially, and of course I love it here.”

“How did you meet Sister Hope?”

“I used to do housecleaning for Madame Guinarde. She and my mother were friends for years. When she fell ill, we did what we could to help. I was the one who first wrote to Sister Hope in London explaining what had happened. When she came, we immediately became friends, but I did not move here until Sister Gretchen and a few of the others were here.”

“Do you mind if I ask you another question? I was speaking with Sister Anika about divorced people getting remarried. She told me
her story, of course, but also told me about your parents, and that you disagreed with her view on the matter.”

Sister Agatha nodded.

“If you don't mind, would you tell me why?” Amanda asked.

“I haven't studied and read the Bible about it,” said Sister Agatha. “I am not a great reader. But my heart simply tells me that God is big enough to have room in his heart for people who have been divorced to marry again. Surely it is not like God to tell people that they must remain alone and miserable for the rest of their lives just for one mistake early in their lives.”

“Sister Anika does not seem miserable.”

“You are right. But even she admits to occasional loneliness.”

“She said that it is not God being severe with her, but her taking account for her own mistake.”

“Then perhaps I would say she is being rather too severe with herself. In my heart I feel that God does not mind it nearly so much as Sister Anika might think. And when I look at my own father and mother—who are two of the most wonderful people in the world, who love each other like a true husband and wife should—what other conclusion can I draw but that God's blessing can rest upon second marriages as well as first ones. My mother married early, and the man she married was a dreadful man, to listen to her tell about him, who was anything but kind to her. Then she met my father, who had also been divorced. They have had a wonderful life together. And if they had not, I would never have been born. And if God loves me and lives inside me, then he must have blessed their marriage. It is not that I think Sister Anika is wrong in not wanting to marry again. If that is how the Lord is leading her, then who am I to tell her otherwise? But I do confess to thinking she is wrong in saying that divorced people
shouldn't
remarry, and that it is going against the Bible when they do.”

Amanda took in everything Sister Agatha said.

As with many of the conversations she was having, the words went into Amanda's soul, awaiting the appointed season when they would be harvested and bear fruit in her own life. She found herself thinking about the comments of both the women, wondering what she would eventually do regarding Ramsay. She wasn't quite ready to think about her own future yet. And thankfully no one here had probed too deeply with personal questions.

She would have to think about it someday. When she did . . . well, she didn't know what she would do.