Sister Mine

3

The sun was shining brightly in the grassy basin, the morning air warm and clear. Riddick was sweating as he swung the axe with ease and skill. They'd been in this place for eight weeks now, and he'd healed quickly, for his ribs had not been broken after all. They'd surely been horribly bruised and likely fractured, but he was young and healthy and mended easily. He was chopping down one of the fruit trees that did not produce much fruit for firewood, and he'd nearly finished stripping it. Hard work was second nature to him, and Logan Riddick was a man built for such things. If not for it, the feeling of being trapped here would make him crazy.

Magdaline watched from the window for a moment, her eyes fixed to his back, watching the smooth muscle coil and flex beneath his skin. They had not spoken more than five sentences to each other since that night, and the young novice could not even bring herself to look at Riddick. Her youth and emotions were waging war with her resolve and her faith, and she feared that if she looked into those clear gray eyes, she lose the fight. She'd been sent to the mission as an orphan of seven, and by the time she was twelve Magdaline knew she'd wanted to spend her life in service to God. She felt purpose and satisfaction from her work, and could not imagine another life for herself, that is, until Logan Riddick had come along.

Since his arrival, her resolve and focus had been chipped away, worn down by his attentions and her own natural responses. Father Fuentes had noticed and though not saying anything specific, he'd indicated that her life choices were not set in stone. If she should choose to leave Lady Guadeloupe, she would be pursuing no evils, only a life intended for humankind. To live, love, marry, those were worthwhile pursuits, he reminded her gently, and no sin for anyone to dream of. It had embarrassed Magdaline that she'd been so easily swayed, and her resolve to remain in training for the church had only strengthened.

"I will not leave here for a man who carries a gun Father," she'd said firmly. "Such a man will end in nothing but heartbreak and death."

"Heartbreak and death find us all, sooner or later," he'd answered sagely, but he'd shrugged. "It is your life, Sister Serrano. You must choose what regrets you want to live with."

Magdaline was wise enough to admit to herself that if she could be promised a full and happy life with Logan Riddick, she'd follow wherever he led. Her heart longed for him, thrilled by his smile, loving the sound of his voice, eager to hear his laugh. He spoke of things she'd never seen, places she'd never been and wished to, and he told her of the world beyond the small mission in Mexico. Yet, it was his life that kept her at a distance from him. He lived by his wit and occasionally by his gun, and Magdaline could not bring herself to accept that. She would not put herself in the hands of a man who consistently used violence, even if it was forced upon him.

The novice nun turned from the window and started to cook lunch, such as it was. Fresh wild vegetables, onions, garlic, carrots, and a few potatoes, canned squash, some peaches, dried apples, fresh plums, and a small handful of wild strawberries Logan had found. She made a batch of soft, thick biscuits and set out some apple jelly and butter. The coffee was ready the same time as the biscuits and Riddick's step sounded at the doorway. He was washed and dressed, a pleasant smile on his face at seeing the meal.

"You put out quite a spread seeing as we don't have much, Sister."

"Thank you," she watched him settle into a chair, moving with ease, his ribs knitting very well. The lump on his head was gone now.

Magdaline searched her mind for something to say, a way to fill the silence that would be long and awkward. There had been too much of that lately.

"Tell me, Logan, do you like to read?"