Hope And Undead Elvis Part 12

Hope smiled, and tears rolled down her cheeks to soak her pillow. "It's alive," she whispered. "The baby's moving, Elvis."

Elvis? Why had she said that? She remembered a companion, a shadow beside her. He must have been the baby's father. But where was he? And where was she?

And why couldn't she remember?

A gasp and clatter of falling crockery startled Hope. She turned her head to look and the dizziness threatened to spill her right out of the world. A young woman in a light blue nun's habit stood in the doorway, her hands to her mouth as if holding in a shriek. An overturned tray lay at her feet where water from a fallen basin puddled.

Her senses reeling, Hope raised a hand toward the woman, who gathered up her skirt and fled. Hope could hear her calling out as she ran away, "Sister Agatha! Sister Agatha!"

That suggested to Hope that she was in a hospital of some sort, but her room was missing the traditional accessories like IV stands and electric monitors. Looking up, she also noted there weren't even any overhead lights. Maybe not a hospital.

"Oh s.h.i.+t," she said aloud as an idea overwhelmed her sense of decorum. "Am I in a convent?"

"Yes, child," said a voice. Hope looked over to see an old woman in a faded habit standing in the door. She had a kindly, wrinkled face but also the air of someone used to being obeyed without question. "Welcome to St. Mary's. How are you feeling?"

Hope laid back against the pillow and rested her hands across the new bulge of her belly. "Disoriented. And thirsty. And really, really hungry."

The old woman turned to the young nun who had first discovered Hope. She spoke in a loud voice with exaggerated enunciation. "Sister Rae, please bring some meal mush and water for our guest."

"Yes, Sister Agatha." The younger woman left again.

The word mush made Hope's appet.i.te sharpen. She was starving, but not for that! She wanted a cheeseburger, and pasta, and she'd have gotten up and danced naked for ice cream. She'd never taken pregnancy cravings seriously until now. "What happened to me? How did I get here?" asked Hope.

"You don't remember?" Sister Agatha sat down on a stool beside Hope's bed and took her wrist with cool, strong fingers, checking her pulse.

Hope dug into the great black gap in her memory. "I remember swimming. I was swimming in the woods. And driving. Also in the woods." The fleeting memory escaped her once more and she shook her head. "That's all, and it's not very clear. The last thing I remember..." She sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess I don't remember anything really."

"What's your name, child?"

"Hope. Hope... um, just Hope, I guess."

"Hope is a lovely name. I'm sorry to tell you that you were in a car accident. A noisy one, for we heard it here during devotions."

"An accident?" Hope held her belly with both hands, afraid for her unborn child. "But... my baby."

Sister Agatha's eyes wrinkled as she smiled. "As far as we can tell, your baby is fine. We've been much more worried about you."

"Me? Am I hurt bad?"

"Not now," said Agatha. "But you were." Sister Rae returned to the room with a bowl of porridge and a clay mug of water on a tray. She set it across Hope's lap and brushed her fingers across the back of Hope's hand, as if to verify she was real.

"But I don't feel hurt..." Hope clutched at Agatha's hand in fear. "How long have I been here?"

"Three months, child."

Hope gasped. Three months! Memories flooded in upon her as her brain unlocked moment after moment. The world ended. Gabrial. Asher. Mercy. The car cras.h.i.+ng into the deer and the world tumbling around and around and pain everywhere. And through it all had been...

"Was... was there anyone with me? In the car, I mean."

"No, child. We didn't find anyone else. We were lucky to even get you out, for your car was on its roof and half collapsed. Fortunately, Sister Rae was able to cut your seat belt and pull you free." Agatha lowered her voice. "Were you alone?"

Hope swallowed. She couldn't tell this woman the truth. "Y-yes. I must have been. I don't remember anyone else." Just the same, she knew she had to find out for herself. Undead Elvis was already dead; he couldn't have died in a stupid car accident, could he? Not after everything they'd already been through.

Maybe he went on to Graceland without her.

Tears threatened to start again at the idea of being abandoned, but the baby moved and Hope's sense of desperation transformed into inspiration. She hadn't been abandoned; she still had her baby-the closest companion she could ever want. She picked up her spoon with a shaky hand unused to activity after three months and took a careful mouthful of porridge.

"We're happy you've awakened," said Sister Agatha. "It pleases me to know that in this time of great trouble, G.o.d still works miracles."

Hope finished her porridge. It tasted familiar. She suspected it was what she'd been fed while comatose. "Maybe so," she said. She felt a familiar pressure in her bladder. "Um, where's the bathroom?"

"I fear we're rather primitive here," said Sister Agatha. "No electricity, no running water. Sister Rae will show you the outhouse and well. Is there anything else you need at this time?" The tone of finality in her voice suggested that the only suitable answer would be negative.

"No," said Hope.

"You may stay as long as you like. We don't have much here, but you're welcome to share with us. After you've attended to yourself, I'd be pleased to have you visit me in my office. I have some questions for you. Sister Rae can bring you." Sister Agatha left the room at a brisk pace, as if she had other, far more important duties to tend to.

Sister Rae smiled at Hope. Her general demeanor was one of nervous concern as she held out a simple robe. "I'll wait outside while you change."

"That's not necessary." Hope slipped her legs out from under the covers. She noticed the length of her leg hair and clicked her tongue. She'd been fired for less at some clubs. "You don't have a razor, do you? I feel like a fu-a gorilla here."

"I'm sorry," said Rae. "What? You have to speak clearly. I can read lips but my hearing aid batteries died a month ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Rae smiled with a genuine honesty Hope hadn't see in Agatha. "It's all right. It doesn't mean I can't still do The Lord's work."

"Well, right now, I think the Lord really wants me to go visit your outhouse."

"This way. Take my arm if you feel unsteady."

Hope slipped her arm into Rae's. The nun felt bony and thin beneath her habit. Hope noticed how sunken the young woman's cheeks were, and the way her skin had drawn tight around her lips and eyes. "Rae," she said in a soft voice, head turned so the nun could see it. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"We eat every day." Rae cast her eyes downward. "There just isn't very much. Two of the Sisters took the station wagon with our jellies and crafts to town, like they do every month, and would come back with groceries. Only this time, they didn't."

Hope s.h.i.+vered, imagining the Sisters running across the Righteous Flame. She sniffed the air as they left the convent for the nearby outhouse, but couldn't detect any hint of smoke on the chill breeze. "It's colder," she said. "It was still summer when I... you know."

"Winter's coming, and I don't know what we're going to do." Rae squeezed Hope's hand. "We're twenty miles from town and we don't have a car or a phone. The sheriff used to check on us once a week, but we haven't seen him in months. I don't know what we're going to do. Sister Agatha has a cell phone for emergencies, but we're out of batteries."

Rae sniffled a little and Hope's heart went out to her. She hugged the young nun, careful of her new, swollen belly. Perhaps her mothering instincts had grown as well during the three months she'd slept. "I'll do what I can to help," she said. "But if I don't use your outhouse right now, I'm going to pee myself right here."

Rae nodded and released Hope, who dashed into the outhouse and let it all go. She batted at the fall flies buzzing around in the tiny shack and sighed with contentment as she scratched at her scalp. Her hair had grown during her coma and completed the transformation from merely unkempt to full-on mop top. Once finished, she used a single square of toilet paper, because she didn't want to take any more than that away from the women who'd shown her such kindness.

"I feel better," she said to Rae upon emerging from the outhouse. "I'd always heard being pregnant makes you have to go more, but I had no idea."

The young nun gave her a brave smile. "Do you know if you're having a boy or girl?"

"I don't. Maybe someday I'll find an ultrasound technician, but until then, it's a mystery."

"Sister Agatha says G.o.d loves mysteries, and we shouldn't ask about them."

"You don't think it's a good idea to ask questions?"

Rae shook her head. "No. What if the answers aren't what they should be?"

"What do you mean? Answers are answers."

"Not all answers are right in G.o.d's eyes." Rae cast her eyes downward. "Sister Agatha says the world is full of dishonesty and lies, and answers can be the words of the Devil, couched in a veneer of credibility."

"That's a pretty grim way of looking at things."

Rae led Hope back into the convent. "If you don't ask questions, you can't ever be disappointed, or... or frightened by the answers."

Hope didn't know what to say to that, except to ask Rae to take her to Sister Agatha's office.

The young girl's eyes never left the floor as she escorted Hope deep into the bowels of the convent.

Chapter Seventeen.

Hope and Agatha Sister Agatha's office looked so old that Hope wondered if the entire convent might have grown around it, the way a tree will grow around a rock outcropping to reach the sun. Shelves along one wall were filled with organized books, many of which were coated with layer upon layer of dust. Only one shelf remained clear of any dirt or debris, and upon it sat a tome as thick as Hope's head. The pages were well-thumbed and discolored from decades of fingers brus.h.i.+ng across them. It had no t.i.tle printed across the spine, but she knew it had to be a Bible. Maybe it was the Bible; the only one that still mattered in the world.

The sister herself sat behind a colossal hardwood desk of wood that had been polished and oiled to the point of saturation. It exuded a rich, earthy smell that seemed to fill not only the room, but Hope's head as well. Despite the daylight outside, Agatha kept her office darkened, with only a candle in a pewter holder at one side of her desk. The flame battled against the oppressive gloom of the room, and Hope found her eyes drawn back to the flame every time they started to wander.

"Welcome, child," said Agatha. "Please, sit down so we can talk."

Hope spotted a straight-backed wooden chair with a knitted cus.h.i.+on on the seat, hulking in a shadow like a beast waiting to strike. She swallowed her anxiety and pulled the chair forward so she could be closer to the light. The candle's presence comforted her in the office, which felt like a place where much misery had transpired over the years.

And yet, Agatha's demeanor was one of solicitous concern. "Do you need anything, child? Food or water? I'm sorry that we don't have better facilities here for you and your baby. As you can see, we have never been a wealthy convent, and we're not really set up for prenatal care."

"No, I'm fine, uh... I'm sorry, what do I call you?"

"Sister Agatha is fine, or just Sister."

"What did you want to, you know, talk about?" Hope felt awkward and nervous, like the many times she'd been called into the princ.i.p.al's office in school.

Agatha leaned forward and clasped her hands atop her desk. In the flickering candlelight, Hope saw her nails were ragged to the quick, as if the nun had been chewing them. "I believe it is nothing less than a miracle that you found your way to us, child. G.o.d has brought you to my door, and I won't disappoint Him."

"A miracle? I wrecked my car," said Hope. "Seems like G.o.d could have brought me here without that little incident."

Agatha's breath hissed between her teeth, and Hope wondered if she'd caused offense. She told herself she was in the presence of someone for whom religion wasn't just for Sundays, but an entire way of life. She'd try to be more circ.u.mspect in her word choices. "Nevertheless, you could have wrecked it anywhere, where n.o.body would be there to pull you to safety. And yet, here you are. Alone. Pregnant."

Subtlety must not have been part of Agatha's toolbox, for her eyes gleamed in the flickering light as she spoke the word pregnant. Hope's hands drifted to the unfamiliar curve of her belly as if to protect the baby within. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"We found n.o.body with you in the wreckage. And yet you seemed worried that you'd lost someone. Was it the father of your baby?"

"N-no. It was... I was..." Hope's eyes drifted back to the candle flame. She couldn't help but look at it. The way it danced was almost hypnotic. She blinked, realizing her eyes were starting to water. "I was alone," she said at last.

"We are never truly alone, child. G.o.d walks beside us, and carries us in the times we cannot carry ourselves. And for that, we praise Him." Agatha crossed herself.

In the silence that followed, Hope felt pangs of guilt. Was she supposed to say something more? Pray? She didn't know what to do, and stared into the candle.

"Tell me about the father of your baby," said Agatha. She licked her lips like a greedy child expecting candy.

"I... I don't know," said Hope. "I don't even know how, I mean, you know..."

"There is no father, is there? You've never been with a man, have you?"

"No." Admitting it aloud at last somehow made it seem less real.

A look of triumph crossed Agatha's face. "I thought so. When Sister Catherine told me that you were still... intact, I had to see for myself."

"You looked?" Hope felt ashamed. She'd spent years flaunting her body on the stage, and now that this one old nun had seen her most secret places, she felt like the lowest creature on earth. The candle danced as Agatha's breath disturbed the air around it.

"You're still a virgin, child. A pregnant virgin. That has only happened once before. Do you know what that means?"

"It's a... a miracle?"

"Yes, child. A miraculous birth. G.o.d has given you His child to carry in this troubled time. You are the mother of Our Savior. His reincarnation will bring G.o.d's love upon us all, and those of us who follow His word shall evermore dwell in the light eternal."

"That sounds nice," said Hope. Her eyes kept rolling, like she was trying to keep herself awake.

"You shall be remembered for all eternity as the Second Holy Mother." Agatha's mouth tightened. "As shall I, as your teacher. It's a fitting place for someone who's spent her entire life in the service of G.o.d."

Hope felt like she'd lost control of her own mouth. What she'd intended to say was "Amen" or something holy like that. Instead, she said, "Stripper Mary. That's me."

Agatha's eyes narrowed. "What?"

The spell of the candle flame had been broken. Hope looked away from it and kept her eyes on Agatha instead. The flickering light reflected from Agatha's dark eyes, but filtered through the old woman's corneas, it lost any power it might have had to begin with. "Look, it's really nice that you want to take care of me and the baby and all, but you need to understand that I'm not who you think I am. I'm not holy, or a saint, or anything like that. I'm a stripper. And maybe I haven't ever had s.e.x, but that doesn't mean I haven't ever serviced a man. I'm not pure by any stretch of imagination, Sister, so maybe you shouldn't hang all your hopes on me."

"What?" Crawling horror crossed Agatha's face as Hope explained herself. "You're a wh.o.r.e? A common wh.o.r.e?"

Hope stood. Behind her, the chair tumbled to the floor. The wood back broke with a loud crack. "Screw you, Sister."

Agatha leaped to her feet, spry for such an elderly woman, but held her hands out in supplication instead of threat. "Forgive me, child. I spoke out of turn. I hadn't expected such a revelation, but I suppose the Lord works in mysterious ways, and it is not for me to understand them."

"Don't call me a wh.o.r.e," said Hope.

"You'll have to forgive me. I've spent my entire life devote to G.o.d and doing His work here on earth. It's a shock to find out He chose someone like you to be the vessel of his child."

"What's shocking is that I haven't left yet. In fact, I think I'll go right now."