“And may God have mercy on your soul.”
Then the rain hit. Not a summer shower, but a deluge. With no covering or awning on the private balcony, Alice was soaked to the skin in seconds. Lightning lit up the night air around the hotel like it was midday and the inevitable clap of thunder shook the building to its foundation.
Alice looked up at the black, roiling thunderheads and saw Michael in the middle of his living room floor, the bloody cross over the bullet hole in his forehead.
Rage and sorrow boiled up from inside her. She tipped her head back. The scream tore from the back of her throat as she vented her fury and regret upon the storm. Tears mixed with raindrops as they cascaded down her face.
* * * * *
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Alice couldn’t take her eyes off the casket.
She stood on a hill at the far end of the cemetery. Family and friends and virtually every policeman and policewoman in the city surrounded the grave. She felt like a complete outsider. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere.
She had made the same mistake she always made. In her arrogance, she had presumed she could comfortably coexist with so-called “normal” people. She was anything but normal.
She had told Michael more than once that she would look no different at his funeral than she looked right at the moment. Had she only known his funeral was so close at hand and that she would be left behind yet again.
She looked up at the grey, overcast sky and wanted to shake her fist up at it. At Him. And yet, she knew that would do no good.
There is your plan and God’s plan. And yours does not count.
How many times had she heard that in Amesbury?
Too many to count.
Everyone around the casket jumped as the twenty-one-gun salute fired once. Twice. Thrice.
When the bagpipes played Amazing Grace, she roused herself and watched the officers fold the flag and present it to Michael’s mother.
Michael’s mother had no idea about Alice’s relationship with her son. No knowledge of the bond they had built. No hint that Alice’s time in Philadelphia had been a tonic she sorely needed. No clue as to the size of the scar her son had left on Alice’s heart.
Then, the funeral was over.
The crowd dispersed from around the graveside. Mingled. Wiped away tears and made their way back to their cars.
Alice didn’t know where to go. Instead, she stood on the hill and watched the coffin be lowered into the grave. Michael’s grave.
She hated that she had to see it, just as she hated every other grave she’d gazed upon. She always wondered why God’s plan would include this cruel facet. Wondered why she warranted such heartbreak, such loneliness.
She almost yanked her hand away when she felt the touch. Almost. When she looked down, there was Christine Rafferty.
It wasn’t long ago that Alice had saved her life. No one else would have been capable of that. A few drops of her blood was all it had taken.
“Alice?”
“Yes, Christine?”
“Is Uncle Mike in heaven?”
Alice watched the casket descend past the edge of the grave. “Most assuredly, Christine.”
“When I die, will I go to heaven?”
“Of course, dear.”
“Will I see him when I get there?”
Alice felt the tears flow down her cheeks. “I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you.”
Christine squinted up at her. “Will he bring donuts?”
Alice laughed through the tears, despite herself. “I believe he will.”
“Jelly donuts?”
“They are your favorites.”
Christine seemed to consider that for a moment and then said, “Daddy said for you to come to our house.”
Christine pulled on her hand and Alice let herself be led down the hill. She and Christine strolled hand-in-hand back to the Raffertys car.
There is your plan and God’s plan. And yours does not count.
Martin and Geri waited beside the car. Susie had already climbed inside and was strapped in, waiting to go home.
Christine ran around the car to Geri.
“Ready to go?” Rafferty asked.
“Quite so, Constable.”
THE END
The next story in the Nun with a Gun series:
Backed into a corner, help comes to Alice from the most unlikely of allies...
The Federal Bureau of Investigation has reopened the murder of Bishop McGinty and has Alice square in its sights. They have the video, they have her fingerprints, and they have proof that the Pope himself ordered McGinty’s death.
Alice is stuck in an FBI interrogation room, while the Vatican is split between defending her and selling her out. Can Alice talk her way out of this predicament?
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