Sister Teresa nodded and obediently followed. The question now was how to get the cross away from her.
I could grab it and run, Lucia thought, but she’d probably scream and attract a lot of attention. No, I’ll have to make sure she stays quiet.
A small limb of a tree had fallen to the ground in front of her, and Lucia paused, then stooped to pick it up. It was heavy. Perfect. She waited for Sister Teresa to catch up to her.
“Sister Teresa…”
The nun turned to look at her, and as Lucia started to raise the club, a male voice from out of nowhere said, “God be with you, Sisters.”
Lucia spun around, ready to run. A man was standing there, dressed in the long brown robe and cowl of a friar. He was tall and thin, with an aquiline face and the saintliest expression Lucia had ever seen. His eyes seemed to glow with a warm inner light, and his voice was soft and gentle.
“I’m Friar Miguel Carrillo.”
Lucia’s mind was racing. Her first plan had been interrupted. But now, suddenly, she had a better one.
“Thank God you found us,” Lucia said. This man was going to be her escape. He would know the easiest way for her to get out of Spain. “We come from the Cistercian convent near Ávila,” she explained. “Last night some men raided it. All the nuns were taken. Four of us managed to escape.”
When the friar replied, his voice was filled with anger. “I come from the monastery at San Generro, where I have been for the past twenty years. We were attacked the night before last.” He sighed. “I know that God has some plan for all His children, but I must confess that at this moment I don’t understand what it might be.”
“These men are searching for us,” Lucia said. “It is important that we get out of Spain as fast as possible. Do you know how that can be done?”
Friar Carrillo smiled gently. “I think I can help you, Sister. God has brought us together. Take me to the others.”
Within a few minutes Lucia had brought the friar to the group.
“This is Friar Carrillo,” she said. “He’s been in a monastery for the last twenty years. He’s come to help us.”
Their reactions to the friar were mixed. Graciela dared not look directly at him; Megan studied him with quick, interested glances; and Sister Teresa regarded him as a messenger sent by God who would lead them to the convent at Mendavia.
Friar Carrillo said, “The men who attacked the convent will undoubtedly keep searching for you. But they will be looking for four nuns. The first thing you must do is change your clothing.”
Megan reminded him, “We have no clothes to change into.”
Friar Carrillo gave her a beatific smile. “Our Lord has a very large wardrobe. Do not worry, my child. He will provide. Let us go back into town.”
It was two o’clock in the afternoon, siesta time, and Friar Carrillo and the four sisters walked down the main street of the village, alert for any signs of their pursuers. The shops were closed, but the restaurants and bars were open and from them they could hear strange music issuing, hard, dissonant, and raucous-sounding.
Friar Carrillo saw the look on Sister Teresa’s face. “That’s rock and roll,” he said. “Very popular with the young these days.”
A pair of young women standing in front of one of the bars stared at the nuns as they passed. The nuns stared back, wide-eyed, at the strange clothing the pair wore. One wore a skirt so short it barely covered her thighs, and the other wore a longer skirt that was split up to the sides of her thighs. Both wore tight knitted bodices with no sleeves.
They might as well be naked, Sister Teresa thought, horrified.
In the doorway stood a man who wore a turtleneck sweater, a strange-looking jacket without a collar, and a jeweled pendant.
Unfamiliar odors greeted the nuns as they passed a bodega. Nicotine and whiskey.
Megan was staring at something across the street. She stopped.