Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 279
He did not bother to straighten what was left of his windblown
hair, but merely plopped down in a chair in the large
hallway. He fought a moment of resentment toward Dylan
and Susan, but knew it was all for the best. He didn’t like
being ordered around, but his spiritual director’s perspective
was always valuable, if not completely welcome. In a few
moments Mother Maggie poked her head into the hallway.
“Hello, padre. Are you ready?”
Maggie was a diminutive dumpling of a woman who
seemed to Richard unmoved by age, illness, or any variety of
trouble. Her gray hair and wrinkled features suggested she
had seen plenty of it, but her zeal for every endeavor, and
indeed, everyone she met left no doubt who had been victorious.
Richard admired her, and her matronly attention persuaded
him to open up to her. She was, in fact, the only spiritual
director he had ever been able to be completely vulnerable
with. “Mother” was an unusual nickname for an
Episcopal priest, but it fit her. He sometimes referred to her
as his true alma mater, the mother of his soul.
“Thanks for the short notice, Maggie,” he said. “Even if it
wasn’t entirely my doing.”
She nodded. “What are friends for?” He wasn’t sure
whether she was referring to herself or to Dylan and Susan,
but decided it didn’t matter. They sat for a few minutes in
silence together. Once they had centered, Maggie lit a candle
on the table beside her. “Let this serve to remind us that there
are three of us here.” The statement jolted him, and Richard
caught a note of profound sadness in her voice. Usually,
Maggie’s dog JoJo was lying in her bed in the corner.
Maggie’s usual invocation was, “Let this serve to remind us
that there are four of us here.” The new formulation only
served to point out that JoJo was gone. Richard’s eyes lit
upon the little blue dog bed, void and lonely in its familiar
place.