he not a relatively high member of the Catholic Church, many would have described him as having a “roguish charm.” Instead, they referred to his “energetic dynamism” and “sparkling personality.”
“Hello,” he said in an Irish brogue as warm and as satisfying as good malt whiskey. He stepped toward the visitors keenly, his hand already outstretched.
“Hello, your Excellency,” Mary said, shyly, wondering how such terrible events could result in something as honorable as a meeting with the Bishop.
“Good to see you, Sister Mary,” the Bishop replied. “And yourself, Reverend. It’s always nice to meet someone from a different church – especially someone as well-respected as you.”
“Oh,” Annabelle blushed, shaking her head at the compliment.
“Really,” insisted the Bishop. “I’ve heard a lot about how much wonderful work you’ve done already in East London. And still so young! You’ve certainly got a lot of promise, Reverend.”
Annabelle sought and failed to find appropriate words to respond to the handsome Bishop’s compliment. Instead, she looked downwards bashfully and mumbled a mild “thank you.”
“Shall we go to my office?” the Bishop asked, turning toward a door on the balls of his feet, much like a ballroom dancer.
Annabelle and Mary followed closely behind, stepping through the door that the Bishop held open for them.
If the entrance hall felt like that of a palace with its marble floors, plinths, and red carpets, then the Bishop’s office felt like that of a grand library. Everything inside seemed to be carved from the richest and sturdiest woods, from the bookshelves that covered almost every wall to the heavy desk and seats upholstered in green leather.
“You must be tired,” he said, nodding toward the chairs in front of his impressive desk. “Take a seat, and we can have a little chat.”
Mary and Annabelle sat down, while the Bishop took his own seat in a slightly more modern, but no less luxurious, office chair.
“Sorry, I completely forgot – I’m so eager to talk with you! – would you like something to drink? Water? Tea? Juice?”
“No, thank you,” Mary replied.
“Water would be lovely,” Annabelle said.
Bishop Murphy nodded, held down a button on his intercom, and uttered a brief but polite request of Sara. Then he sat back, touched the pads of his fingers together forming an arch, and smiled sympathetically.
“So… It seems like both of you have had a lot of adventures this past day or two.”
“Indeed,” Annabelle said, after glancing at Mary. Though it ought to have been her – being a nun and all – who spoke to the Bishop, Annabelle knew her friend would be feeling rather nervous and decided to take the lead until Mary herself was comfortable enough to talk.
“So what’s been going on?” the Bishop inquired.
There was a knock at the door, after which Sara entered carrying two bottles of water and two glasses. She laid them out in front of Annabelle and the Bishop, then left quickly. Annabelle looked at Mary, whose face still wore an expression of mild astonishment at the Bishop’s presence, and then began talking.
Though Annabelle gave a detailed summary of the events which had occurred the previous day, she refrained from inserting any of her own conjectures, as well as Mary’s own concerns, preferring to wait until the Bishop had offered his own objective judgment. Once she was done, she took her glass again and sipped.
“Hmm, that’s quite a dramatic turn of events,” the Bishop said, scratching his grey hair in puzzlement. He switched his glance between the women a few times. “What do you make of it all?”
“I have some ideas,” Annabelle said, “but I was rather hoping to hear yours.”
“Well,” the Bishop began, “I wanted to see both of you for two reasons.”
Annabelle and Mary leaned forward slightly.
“First, I’d like to apologize.”
“Whatever for!?” Mary exclaimed, suddenly
“Hello,” he said in an Irish brogue as warm and as satisfying as good malt whiskey. He stepped toward the visitors keenly, his hand already outstretched.
“Hello, your Excellency,” Mary said, shyly, wondering how such terrible events could result in something as honorable as a meeting with the Bishop.
“Good to see you, Sister Mary,” the Bishop replied. “And yourself, Reverend. It’s always nice to meet someone from a different church – especially someone as well-respected as you.”
“Oh,” Annabelle blushed, shaking her head at the compliment.
“Really,” insisted the Bishop. “I’ve heard a lot about how much wonderful work you’ve done already in East London. And still so young! You’ve certainly got a lot of promise, Reverend.”
Annabelle sought and failed to find appropriate words to respond to the handsome Bishop’s compliment. Instead, she looked downwards bashfully and mumbled a mild “thank you.”
“Shall we go to my office?” the Bishop asked, turning toward a door on the balls of his feet, much like a ballroom dancer.
Annabelle and Mary followed closely behind, stepping through the door that the Bishop held open for them.
If the entrance hall felt like that of a palace with its marble floors, plinths, and red carpets, then the Bishop’s office felt like that of a grand library. Everything inside seemed to be carved from the richest and sturdiest woods, from the bookshelves that covered almost every wall to the heavy desk and seats upholstered in green leather.
“You must be tired,” he said, nodding toward the chairs in front of his impressive desk. “Take a seat, and we can have a little chat.”
Mary and Annabelle sat down, while the Bishop took his own seat in a slightly more modern, but no less luxurious, office chair.
“Sorry, I completely forgot – I’m so eager to talk with you! – would you like something to drink? Water? Tea? Juice?”
“No, thank you,” Mary replied.
“Water would be lovely,” Annabelle said.
Bishop Murphy nodded, held down a button on his intercom, and uttered a brief but polite request of Sara. Then he sat back, touched the pads of his fingers together forming an arch, and smiled sympathetically.
“So… It seems like both of you have had a lot of adventures this past day or two.”
“Indeed,” Annabelle said, after glancing at Mary. Though it ought to have been her – being a nun and all – who spoke to the Bishop, Annabelle knew her friend would be feeling rather nervous and decided to take the lead until Mary herself was comfortable enough to talk.
“So what’s been going on?” the Bishop inquired.
There was a knock at the door, after which Sara entered carrying two bottles of water and two glasses. She laid them out in front of Annabelle and the Bishop, then left quickly. Annabelle looked at Mary, whose face still wore an expression of mild astonishment at the Bishop’s presence, and then began talking.
Though Annabelle gave a detailed summary of the events which had occurred the previous day, she refrained from inserting any of her own conjectures, as well as Mary’s own concerns, preferring to wait until the Bishop had offered his own objective judgment. Once she was done, she took her glass again and sipped.
“Hmm, that’s quite a dramatic turn of events,” the Bishop said, scratching his grey hair in puzzlement. He switched his glance between the women a few times. “What do you make of it all?”
“I have some ideas,” Annabelle said, “but I was rather hoping to hear yours.”
“Well,” the Bishop began, “I wanted to see both of you for two reasons.”
Annabelle and Mary leaned forward slightly.
“First, I’d like to apologize.”
“Whatever for!?” Mary exclaimed, suddenly
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