Call Down the Moon Read Free Page B

Meggie’s personal depiction of the Garden of Eden. Before the serpent came along, naturally, when Adam and Eve were still in accord with God and each other.
    It was foolish of her to be so whimsical, perhaps, but she took a small measure of pleasure from indulging herself in the idea that there once had been perfection in the world—a time when there had been no disease, no hunger, no unhappiness, no loneliness. No madness.
    Meggie wasn’t at all sure what she was going to do when the time came to tackle Adam. She had next to no knowledge of how a man’s unclothed anatomy looked, beyond a hazy memory of an illustration or two she had seen in a book in her foster mother’s house. In that book all the men had been wearing fig leaves or carefully draped pieces of cloth. She’d better bestow a fig leaf on Adam, even if it wasn’t historically accurate, or she’d really be in trouble. What she needed to concentrate on were the strong lines of the torso, the powerful musculature of the arms and legs…
    She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering in perfect, magnificent detail the dark-haired stranger who had gazed at her through Sister Agnes’s study window that afternoon and had so deeply unsettled her. Now he might make the perfect model for Adam if she just stripped him of his clothes…
    Meggie shook her head sharply, refusing to let her thoughts wander in that direction. His image had been plaguing her ever since, but to go so far as to imagine him wearing nothing but a fig leaf—that was truly wicked. One did not go about unclothing men, even in one’s mind.
    She glanced up as Sister Agnes yawned and stretched her gnarled fingers toward the warmth of the fire, her gaze focused on the flames. Meggie knew from experience that the nun was about to vanish into deep thought. Sister Agnes could either be completely alert, aware of every last detail of what happened in her small dominion, or completely lost in contemplation over what improvements she might bring to bear on it.
    Meggie smiled fondly at the elderly woman. She would never forget the day she’d appeared dirty, dusty, and exhausted at the Woodbridge Sanitarium all those years ago. She had been so frightened, thinking that her life was going from miserable to unbearable, since the Mother Superior of Ipswich Orphanage had warned her Comrade-in-God about Meggie’s depraved character.
    Instead, she was greeted by a woman as warm as she was wise. Sister Agnes had actually embraced her upon her arrival—embraced her! Meggie had nearly keeled over with shock. She hadn’t been embraced in more than eight years. She’d hardly been touched in any way, except in punishment. Touching wasn’t allowed at the Ipswich Orphanage.
    Sister Agnes took her inside, fed her the best meal Meggie had eaten since her foster mother had died, and allowed Meggie to nod off at the dinner table.
    From that day until now, Sister Agnes had never spoken an unkind word to Meggie. She had taken Meggie under her wing and treated her with compassion and infinite understanding, a healing balm to Meggie’s wounded soul.
    From the beginning, Sister Agnes made it clear that she believed not one word that the Mother Superior had written about the inherent evil lurking in Meggie’s heart. Instead, she accepted Meggie, and as Meggie gradually came to trust Sister Agnes, she allowed herself to open up. One day she even found herself telling the nun about the strange talent she’d been born with. She’d never admitted it before to anyone, fearing the repercussions. It was bad enough when people only suspected.
    Witch. Devil. Liar.
    Yet instead of condemning Meggie, Sister Agnes had told her that her talent was not God’s curse, but His blessing—a true gift that could do others good if she used it wisely and carefully.
    Meggie still wasn’t convinced about the blessing part, although she did realize that her talent had a special function in the sanitarium, and Sister Agnes encouraged her to