The Suicide Motor Club by Christopher Buehlman Read Free Book Online

if not sophisticated. Something seemed important to her about that drawing, and she couldn’t say why. Her mind went to a drawing Glen had made of their church; in it, the cross on top had migrated to the side, stuck jauntily out. He had made marks that looked like chicken feet to represent the roof tiles, and that struck her as rather advanced. Had her pride caused them all to be punished? Were her pride and Robert’s transgression enough to cause God to withdraw the gift he had given them?
    You’re being ridiculous
    She realized then that she had been spoken to and was expected to respond.
    â€œPardon me, Mother Superior?”
    â€œAre you quite well?”
    â€œYes, I’m fine.”
    She blinked, looked deliberately away from the drawing.
    â€œVatican Two. I was fortunate enough to be sent with a group representing the American Order of Cistercians of the Common Observance. I saw His Holiness in person and even got to practice my Italianon an archbishop. Over cappuccino. I know that smacks of pride, but it was a very pleasant interlude. I think God gives us foretastes of the pleasures awaiting the faithful, and that we honor him by recognizing them as such and then going back to hard work and poverty. It’s the going back that trips up so many of us.”
    â€œYes, Mother Superior.”
    All this Mother Superior business, as if the younger woman were already a postulant.
    â€œJudith.”
    â€œYes?”
    The woman leaned closer, spearing Jude with those eyes that missed so little.
    â€œI meant what I said about you not owing us. I understand that you feel gratitude toward us, but make no mistake; the course you are proposing is nothing short of marriage. To Christ. And gratitude is a poor reason to marry anyone.”
    â€œIt’s more than that.”
    â€œYou’re quite sure, are you?”
    Judith pinched her left finger, felt where her wedding ring used to sit.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThere it is. That refreshingly honest pause again.”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    â€œI think you very much want to be sure. But I’m not convinced you are, and I must be before I go further with your application.”
    Judith looked down.
    The Mother Superior gently raised Judith’s chin so their eyes met again, then sat back.
    â€œI think you mistake affection for vocation. Our order is in some peril. Our numbers are flagging, hence the brochures. The retreats. The average age here is 58.4, I worked it out on my calculator. Oh, weget applicants, not in droves, but we get them. Modern life makes so many of us strangely empty. Yet, of the several girls who have presented themselves to us this year, you are one of only two I would seriously consider. There are other sisters in positions of authority who want me to accept anyone who isn’t promiscuous or violent. But I would rather see us close our doors than harm young women by setting them up for failure.”
    â€œI won’t fail, Mother Superior.”
    The woman seemed to chew the inside of her cheek.
    â€œYou could simply be our friend, you know. Buy our candles. Come to stay for a weekend once a year. Write us letters or send us Christmas cards, we very much like Christmas cards, especially Sister Agatha, who just had her cataracts removed in Dayton. My point is that you are a woman of the world. You have had the blessings of family, which is, despite what some of the sisters tell themselves, just as pleasing to the Lord as a life of contemplation and prayer. Yes, those blessings were taken from you, quite savagely, but, once you do the hard work of grieving, you will still be young enough to . . .”
    Judith took a shallow in-breath and held it.
    â€œThere.”
    The Mother Superior pointed at her.
    â€œYou wanted to interrupt me because I was about to say something ignorant and presumptuous, something it wasn’t my place to say. You would have been within your rights to interrupt, but