It came one day into Phigaro's heart that he may have gone too far by raising his voice a Bertha which was explain in a few chapter before. So, taking the initiative, he found Bertha in the basement making biscuits for dinner. When she saw Phigaro she gave him a brief look and continue to knead her dough.
“Need any help?” asked Phigaro.
“Not from you.” replied Bertha never looking up from her work. “Look we got off on the wrong foot.”
“You started it.” she said.
“O.k. I'll accept that,” replied Phigaro walking up to the counter, “Since I was the first to start it let me the first to end it. I was wrong for raising my voice towards you and calling you a overgrown fur-ball. I could have done it a better way but I didn't. Will you forgive me?”
Bertha was shocked once again by this small creature. She had never had any creature apologize to her for anything. Deep down inside she was touched; but keeping her emotions in check, she told the aye aye that she had not intention of forgiving him at all. Phigaro, in a playful manner, dropped to one knee and looked up to the ceiling.
“God, if only would you touch this wolf's stony heart and make it flesh once again.”
“You're a comedian all the way aren't you.” she said letting out a slight laugh.
“If it helps you to forgive me, I'll wear a bright red nose and smack a pie in my face!” Bertha grabbed her rolling pin and pointed it at Phigaro's head. The aye- aye braced himself for impact.
“Don't worry I not going to hit you.” she said, “If you want to help you can roll some of that dough out for me.”
Phigaro gladly took the rolling pin and climbed up on the counter.
“So you like preaching, eh?” replied Bertha placing some biscuits on a pan, “Wolves have hard heads and harder hearts too. There's a lot of pain in Gosha.”
“Yeah,” said Phigaro acknowledging the truth in that, “It's hard but not impossible. Some of Durro's pack have become believers.”
“Durro been up in a fury because they won't go on raids with him any more, “ Bertha said laughing, “You should have seen the look on his face the first time they told him so. I thought I saw fire come from his nostrils Did you tell those wolves to stop going on the raids?”
“No,” said Phigaro rolling out the dough, “but I know God did. They have changed.”
“Wolves don't change.”
“Yes they do, Bertha,” said Phigaro, “If you put God into any creature, that creature will change.”
There was silence for a span of two minutes, and then Bertha said something that took hold of Phigaro's ear.
“Can God take away pain?”
“You mean like scrapping your knee or something?”
“No,” said Bertha basing the biscuits with butter, “Pain that's inside.”
“He can do anything; nothings too hard for God.”
Bertha placed the buttered biscuits in the oven and came back to the counter.
“O.k. I'm ready.”
“Ready for what?” said Phigaro.
Bertha looked at Phigaro with her hands on her hips.
“I ready to pray, you knucklehead, what else would I be ready for! I thought you preachers had divine intuition?”
“All right, all right, “ said Phigaro brushing the flour from his hands, “Take my hand to pray.”
“I'm not holding your hand, you pervert!” said Bertha giving Phigaro a dirty look, “Are we going to pray or not? You're really bad at this.”
“I am not.” said Phigaro getting flustered, “All I want to do is to ask if you believe you're a sinner--that your life is an open rebellion against God, and that you will trust Kleos, who died for your sins, and make him Lord over your life, so the wrath of God will be turned from you. From there I was going to ask God to live in you and help you to grow as a believer; to change you and give you peace, joy, love, patience, and all the good stuff in between.”
“And I say yes to all of it and then some!” said Bertha crossing her arms.
“Phigaro, was that so hard to say?”
“Of course not,” he said crossing his arms, “I was happy to say it!”
“Well, good then!” said Bertha rolling her neck.
“No,” said Phigaro rolling his neck, “Its good for you.”
They both gave each other a glaring askance and then both burst into laughter. “Get back to work,” she said grabbing a bowl, “We still need to make another fifty biscuits.”
“You were serious about saying yes, weren't you?”
“Yes,” replied Bertha. “When a wolf agrees to something they stick to it.”
“I'm glad of it,” said Phigaro, “very much so.”