He smiles back.
He remembers the day they met at the market.
So innocent and young, so full of The Spirit,
but also full of the spirit of life. He recognized her conflict at once.
The way she shopped, how she held the fruit, laughing with the fish-mongers, the farmers, the street rats, the ruffians, and the other nuns.
She was a scandal to them, she was. Always the blushing one, with some hidden thought, a suppressed urge, a joke that would not be contained at the expense of the Reverend Mother or the Holy See itself.
They found each other in the market and life itself took on new meaning that day.
And now she comes for him, gleefully climbing the gate as a child climbs a tree to position herself just for him. It is still her giggle, her laugh, her Spirit that brings him joy each fortnight, just after Vespers, when the Abbey is dark.
Was there a god? He thought, until he realized he didn't care to know the answer any more.
He had already found heaven.
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