CHAPTER 16
“The mums look great; who planted them?” asked Anthony over the roar of the hot dishwater pouring into the sink while creating clouds of smoke and suds. The new Observer was becoming more a member of the community with each passing day.
“What mums?” responded Sister Scholastica with a delayed smile. “I sound like someone in an old vaudeville skit—not that I am old enough to remember vaudeville! You know, what I just said sounds something like a ‘knock knock’ joke.”
“We’re losing you Sister, better just answer the question, or quit before you are in over your head,” Brother Benedict commented.
“I didn’t know we had mums, much less who planted them, and was just kidding around. Just trying to lighten up the atmosphere. Anyone else know about the mums?”
“I picked them up at Chestnut Hill Nursery,” Brother Benedict continued. “I was going to plant them myself but I suppose someone thinks I’m getting too old for that sort of thing.”
Everyone became a bit pensive. Brother Benedict appeared offended that someone helped him out with his project. More confusing to the group was the fact that no one seemed to know who did it.
“Well, who is the mystery helper who’s sending me off to the glue factory?”
Brother Matthew had a way of easing tension; it was a genuine part of his personality. “I’m sure whoever did it simply wanted to help out, Brother. Who planted the flowers, by the way?” The younger monk looked around the room.
No one moved or answered. Everyone felt a little strange.
“This is ridiculous,” interjected Sister Jane de Chantal forcefully. “What are these non-verbal messages we are passing to one another? I’ll make mine verbal. I didn’t know we had mums and I didn’t plant them. If I did I would have asked Brother Benedict, or whoever purchased them for the community, first. Mystery solved!”
“Not quite, Sister,” whispered Sister Scholastica absent-mindedly. “We still don’t know who planted them.”
“Rubbish! Maybe a neighbor wanted to do us a good turn,” retorted Sister Jane de Chantal.
“I think they would have asked us first,” said Sister Scholastica, more to herself than to anyone else.
“While we are on the subject of mysteries, Sisters and Brothers, did anyone hear someone creeping around during the night? Maybe I was just having bad dreams, but I sensed a presence in the monastery that was not here during the day.”
“Anthony, don’t you start too! You’ll have us all ‘creeped out’ as the young people say,” responded Sister Jane de Chantal, and not in her usual kindly voice.
“Certainly Sister, please forget I said anything.”
“Please forget that I said what I did too, Anthony. You are good to bring up your concerns to the community. We need to communicate and I didn’t mean to stifle your contribution.
“It’s just that we’ve all been a little edgy of late and I’m trying to keep that from escalating. I must admit that I sense something too. Unfortunately, that’s how some of our past community adventures, or ‘misadventures’ began in the past.” Sister Jane de Chantal felt better for having shared what was really on her mind.
“Let’s change the subject, shall we?” invited Brother Matthew. “Has anyone seen the package of sandalwood incense sticks that we keep in the Oratory? I can’t find them anywhere.”
No one answered. Everyone drifted off to his or her duties of the day.