I Shall Not Want

of thing: small, grassroots, helping individuals in a tangible way.'

Sister Lucia's face was a mixture of interest and doubt. 'There is a spiritual component to the work, you know. It's definitely Catholic. Spanish-language Masses and all.'

Clare grinned. 'Not to worry. In the Episcopal Church, we are all over the ecumenical like white on rice. In fact, we are kinda the white on rice.'

The waitress replaced their empty plates with fat slices of cheesecake. 'Coffee?' She held up a pot.

'Absolutely,' Clare said. Sister Lucia demurred, then watched with amusement as Clare emptied packet after packet of sugar into her cup. 'I may be able to round up a few bodies for you as well.' Clare reached for her spoon. 'We've had an uptick in our membership over the past year, younger people-' they could hardly be older, since the average age when she arrived at St. Alban's had been fifty-seven-'who haven't found a spot in our current volunteer programs. I think your mission might be just the thing.' Her spoon ting- ting-tinged in the cup as she stirred clockwise, then counterclockwise. 'When I started my ministry, I was worried I wasn't going to be able to get anyone to reach out to the marginalized among us. But I've come to believe it's not that people are unwilling, it's that they just don't see them. Look at me. I've lived here over two years without knowing about any of these workers.' She looked at the nun confidingly. 'I didn't really want to come to this luncheon. Now I'm so glad I did.'

Sister Lucia smiled. 'Do you always leap into things so… ah… decisively?'

'You bet,' Clare said. 'I'm not sure if it's a virtue or a flaw, but after thirty-six years, I've come to accept it's who I am.' She took a sip of her coffee and sighed as the heat and sugar and caffeine hit her. 'And thank you.'

'For what?'

'For calling it decisiveness instead of 'jumping in without thinking things through.' '

'Oh, I see it as fearlessness.' The nun glanced at Clare's left hand, bare of rings. 'You're not married.'

Clare shook her head.

'Partnered?'

'No! I mean, no… I'm not.'

Sister Lucia patted her hand. 'Not meaning to be nosy. It's just that I've found one of the great benefits of the celibate life is fearlessness. Especially for women. You can see what needs to be done and do it, without fear of how it's going to affect your family or your reputation.' Where she had been patting, she squeezed, hard. 'Don't let anybody convince you it's a flaw. We need more fearless women following Christ, not less.'

IV

On the way back to Millers Kill, she and Deacon Aberforth had to stop at a

Citgo station to gas up. When she went inside to pay-leaving the deacon muttering about the wasteful extravagance of the tricked-out Hummer taking up almost two spaces at the next pump over-there were five young Hispanic men getting sodas in the back. Five. Bumping into each other, joking around in Spanish, underdressed for the weather in sneakers and the ripstop jackets she saw kids in her congregation wearing. She shook her head.

The people we don't see.

Feeling well justified in her decision to aid Sister Lucia, she returned to the deacon's Scout. 'Father Aberforth.' She willed her eyes away from the speedometer as he more or less accelerated up Route 9. 'Would you describe me as impetuous or fearless?'

He glanced at her. 'I would describe you, Ms. Fergusson, as the vehicle through which God shows me He still has a great deal of work for me to do.'

LENT March

I

Father? I'm finished up. Them floral guild folks are still puttin' up palms for the service tomorrow, so I'm not locking the sanctuary.' Mr. Hadley hovered in the doorway to the church office. Unless he was cleaning, repairing, or tending, Clare never saw him go into the offices. Fair enough. He had his own kingdom in the boiler room and the furnace room and the mysterious Sexton's Closet.

Lois, their church secretary, glanced at the clock. 'School bus time?'

'Honey's out on another interview.' Mr. Hadley sounded out of breath. He clapped one meaty hand against his chest. 'Sorry,' he said, panting. 'Guess I come up those stairs too fast. Anyways, I don't want them grandbabies of mine comin' home to an empty house.'

'Absolutely not. When my children were small, I was always there when they got home. Give them a good snack, make sure they've started their homework, and then you can have Happy Hour in peace.'

The Reverend Elizabeth de Groot looked scandalized. She had been assigned as St. Alban's deacon in January, and two months sharing an office had not accustomed her to Lois's sense of humor. Clare was beginning to suspect it wasn't going to happen.

'How's Hadley's job search going?' she asked, before Elizabeth could say anything.

'I don't mind tellin' you, it's been disappointin'. Used t'be plenty of good jobs for a body not afraid a hard work. Now what the Mexicans don't come up and take, they ship overseas.' He made a gesture that said what ya gonna do? 'Eh-nh. She'll find sumpin' sooner or later. She's at the police station today.'

Lois and Elizabeth did not look at Clare.

'Hard to picture her in uniform,' Mr. Hadley went on, unaware of the charged atmosphere. 'Allus wanted to be an actress when she was little. Pretty enough for it, too. But I guess it's hard to make a livin' at it.'

'I'm praying for her,' Clare said. 'Let me know if there's anything more concrete I can do.'

'Eh.' He fished a less-than-clean handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face with it. 'If you know anybody in the police department, you can put in a good word.'

Lois choked, coughed, and grabbed for her water bottle. 'You okay?' the oblivious sexton asked.

Red-faced, Lois waved him off. 'Fine,' she gasped.

'You'd better get going if you want to make that school bus.' Clare glared at the secretary, who was thumping herself on the chest. 'We'll make sure Lois doesn't swallow any more words the wrong way.'

' 'Kay. See ya tomorrow. 'Bye, Father.' Mr. Hadley thumped off up the hall.

Lois blinked several times, then ran her fingers through her strawberry-blond bob, restoring it to its usual razor-cut perfection. 'Let's see. Where were we?'