Mysterious Ways
by Elsie Ramirez

"I've lost my way, Carlos," her soft voice had confided with a tormented sob. It still echoed across his memory, sustained by his refusal to forget. Through the bad connection, she had choked up; a
sob shaking the clarity of a voice he swore would never know tears, at least while he was alive. "I don't know what else to do but go away for awhile – "

"Sister," he had said, at a loss to say anything else. There was nothing else he could say…that he was allowed to say…

"Please," she had sobbed last, before letting go of the phone. The last thing he heard her say was, "Not that. Not now. Not anymore."

Dear God, he thought silently, remembering nothing of the prayers he had learned as a child. And in this mourning, the God of San Tanco could scarcely indulge his silent pain. He was a lonely man with everything…and nothing. Even on this fine ship of his, his life was empty. What a sorrowful stereotype he had become. There was no morning nor night for him now. Only one day without her that never ended.

The tide was out, he stared away into the water, at a pelican balanced on a promontory rock. A pelican with a dull, sad stare. He wondered, half-jokingly, if it had been the same pelican…his brother flying one who shared his fate…falling in love with the impossible.

The first bell of San Tanco bleated sadly, distantly. It was just about to make him cry again, when he heard the regular footsteps of someone walking methodically down the jetty toward his boat. The echo over the water, made it hard to tell the direction and the number of steps.

When he first saw the habit, his heart clutched at hope, but hope slipped away as he saw across the cabin toward the mooring, the face of Sister Jacqueline. He could see, reflected in the deep sympathy of her face, what a wretched sight he had become.

"Good morning, Mr. Ramirez. May I come aboard?"

"Of course, Sister," he said, hollowly. He rose unsteadily to his feet – faked a smile. He kicked covertly at a stale, empty bottle to knock it under the berth. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this
visit?"

She stepped carefully down into the boat. "We've been very worried about you. Was a time, we saw you every Sunday. You haven't been to Mass in weeks."

He nodded, rubbing self-consciously at the growth of beard. "I am sorry. I just cannot bring myself to go there – "

She frowned in sympathy, nodding. "I am here with some news, though."

His eyes opened wider. He grabbed hope back and set it down solidly beside him. He could not bear its crashing down on him again.

"You've heard from Sister Bertrille?"

"Not exactly. It's complicated. But yes, I do have word of our mutual friend, however."

He exhaled, raking a hand back through his overgrown thicket of black hair. "Thank God. I've been so worried for her."

Jacqueline nodded. "That has been somewhat obvious."

"I'm sorry. It is just she is my very good friend, you see, and -- "

"I know."

"Of course you know. I'm sorry, you have known us the whole time. And I know you were also concerned, it's just I haven't slept and I – "

"No, Mr. Ramirez, I mean…I know. Elsie told me everything. Everything…before she left us."

He sat back again, from the shifting burden of her words. He felt like an altar boy caught partaking of the sacramental wine. Only this was worse…much worse.

"Forgive me, Sister, I – " His world spun around him, contracting to a narrow visual band. He shook his head hard. "I'm so sorry… But I'm not sorry. I am not sorry at all. I feel as if God himself could find no mercy for me. All the women I've known…the life I've led and… I am, at last, a horrible human being."

She laughed sadly. "Don't be silly. The human heart is very wise. Such things have happened before. Who are any of us to question its wisdom?"

The pain in his head and heart furrowed more deeply through his brow. "It's not only that I fell in love with a nun. It's that my confession to her caused her pain. And drove her away from me and
everything she loved."

Sister Jacqueline laughed. "Nonsense. No mere human could do that, even you. You should know that as well as anyone. And Elsie wasn't really a nun. She was a novice."

"Was?" he said. His mind flicked backward through his mental file cabinet. Something so horrible he couldn't consider it clawed at his heart. "…you said she'd left us…"

"No!" Sister Jacqueline said loudly. "Elsie's fine. She hasn't left us. She has merely left the Church."

He could hear nothing else spoken…words bounced off insensible walls in his head.

He began to feel a little mad with the wine. Not bad mad, but light of heart, of spirit.

"She left? Why?"

"Well, Carlos," a voice said behind him. "If you'd hush for a minute, you could turn around and ask her yourself."

He whirled around so fast, nearly fell over. He grabbed for his old friend the mourning chair.

And there she was…the distant figure once barely visible through all the impossible walls that once stood between them, now standing before him here.

When she grinned, she scrunched her upturned nose in the way that pulled up every dimple on her face. Her chestnut hair had grown a little, though her bangs still dangled over her eyes – eyes like twin amber lights any wayward ship might follow willingly ashore.

"Hi, there." She smiled.

"S…" he said, stopping himself short, correcting his course. "Elsie," he said, as if he'd never spoken it before, and it was among the loveliest of sounds.

"If you'll excuse me," Sister Jacqueline said, smiling. She nodded kindly toward the once and now again Elsie Ethrington, and walked away toward old and rambling places.

"I believe," Elsie said, smiling. "You left off at the L word, encompassed by two common pronouns which -- "

"I love you," Carlos said.

Her eyes brightened, this time with tears. "That was the ones I was thinking of – "

"I've loved you," he went on, "since the moment you walked into my disco and started trying to run my whole life. You won my heart from the very beginning. I was never under any delusions about the nature of my love. So many times, I almost said something… so many moments, I came so close to kissing you…so close... But I thought I would lose you, if I did, and I would rather have you in my life, as you were, than live without you. I always knew I would never love anyone else. But I would never, ever have asked you to leave – "

"Carlos, I know that!" She pressed her hands against her eyes, drying them forcefully, at least for the moment. "And to be honest, I would never have left for you, because who wants to give that kind of guilt trip to the man they love?"

He closed his eyes, to inhale the words. They were the most intoxicating of elixirs he had known in years.

"I could have only hoped that you might feel the same," he whispered.

"Of course I love you," she said, choking back her feelings with years of practice. "I've loved you since the moment I stared up into your big, brown, beautiful eyes. I saw the kindest soul I'd ever
known within them. I loved you then, right then, that very instant. Reverend Mother, bless her, tried to tell me so many times. I think she always knew. But she always told me I could only leave for myself. And I did leave for myself. Because I couldn't really be me, if I wasn't with you."

His smile drove the sun behind clouds. "But what about your – " he looked skywards.

"Oh that!" she rolled her eyes in the direction he'd pointed. "What's that old love song say? Your love gives me wings."

This time, unlike the times before when he had nearly kissed her, he leaned across the forbidden zone between them, and gently pressed his lips to hers. The first taste of her mouth was chaste, but it deepened into a kiss of man and woman.

They ended only for a breath.

She chuckled a little, to calm an awkward flood of tears. "First order of business in my new life as your girlfriend – "

"Wife," he whispered firmly.

This times the tears went unchecked. "Then that settles it. Once and for all. We burn your little black book."

"Done," he said, smiling.

He pulled her to him, to nestle against him, forever, if only for the rest of their lives.

END