La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

6. The Lion and the Lamb I

La Mort et ses Merveilles

Chapter 6: The Lion and the Lamb I

I never spoke to Josephine about what I heard, and she never seemed to know I had been listening in either. Personally I didn't know what to think of her at that point. She had shown nothing but kindness to me, and even if she was doing it as some sort of penance, does that make it any different? I didn't know. The question seemed to disturb the young woman as well.

About a week after the whole incident at the tool shed, Isabella and I were helping out in the kitchen. It was a rather well equipped yet slightly antique. Yet it was still clean and pretty much functional. We were having vegetable stew for dinner that night. The sisters on kitchen duty usually made enough food for about sixty people, roughly about the population of the convent with some extra. The residents of the Yard –what the locals called the flimsily-fortified expanse adjacent to the main complex with its caravans and shacks, had their own field kitchen. However the people from the yard were always welcome to join us if they wished. I was dicing some carrots while Isabella helped wash the vegetables. It was then when Josephine asked us that question.

"What do you think," she said as she prepared the pot on top of the firewood stove. "Of someone who does kind things but out of the guilt?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. "If someone is kind then, they're a good person I guess."

"Do you think it makes it any less sincere?" she responded on her way back to the island I was working at. "To do something not out of the kindness of the heart but because they feel like they should make up for something wrong they've done?"

In a world like this, it doesn't hurt to be a little kind does it? Her words at the back of the tool shed played in the back of my mind. I nearly repeated them wholesale, but that would give me away.

It doesn't matter I guess," I said instead. "As long as someone isn't doing it to get something or out of malice, then I suppose it counts as sincere. I don't know. You're a woman of God wouldn't you know better?"

She was silent, but in the corner of my eye I couldn't help but notice the sweet smile on her lips.

In other news, Leslie stayed away from me for the most part. Just like I asked. Even in the instances where we ran into each other, he never said a word. He ignored me, but he never really gave me the cold shoulder or anything. It was the type of avoidance someone who was too shy or ashamed would do. He'd skirt his eyes whenever he needed to speak to Josephine and I was there. Sometimes he'd look at me, but it was with the eyes of someone so pitiful and pathetic, not in an intimidating way. I didn't know how to feel about him to be honest. I'd rather he not show up at all.

"Why are you so nice to Leslie?" I asked Josephine once as we were working in the garden on a bright morning. "I mean he seems pretty. . . violent."

"That's fair," the woman said as she pruned the pomegranate shrubs. "But you don't know him like I do."

"How long have you known him?" I questioned. "You two seem pretty familiar with each other."

"I knew him since middle school," she answered. "He lived down the street from my place."

I was hoping she'd say more, but that was all she'd reveal. I didn't want to seem like I was so desperate in trying to find out more about Leslie, but in all honesty my curiosity was at an all-time high. But I didn't want Josephine to sense that, so I just continued the gardening work without mentioning the young man again.

Isabella and I had settled in nicely into the convent, both of us sharing a room. However after a few nights, my little sister took up Josephine's offer and slept in the spare bed Josephine had instead. Of course, did left me all alone but I didn't mind. At least I had my own personal space. But given that we were living in the convent itself, we had to abide to the schedule. For the first week my sister and I basically followed Josephine like a bunch of ducklings, until Mother Agnes herself decided to assign me my own share of work. Without realising it, I was already absorbed into the community. I thought about the old farmhouse, to which the keys still lay in my pocket, but I suppose the convent was fine too. Besides, it was great for Isabella.