Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold Read Online Free Page B

that she was dressed nicely—or had been. Her dress was a thin yellow print of a good material. Her hair was cut short in a jagged way he supposed New Yorkers considered fashionable. There were faint traces of makeup on her face—not a lot, just the tasteful amount that girls who knew how to wear makeup put on. Everything about her—her poise, her watch, her small pearl drop earrings, her voice—said that this was a girl from the nicer side of town. Completely out of her element here.
    “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “But could you tell me your names?”
    She was not so distraught that she couldn’t be polite, Brother Leon thought. “I’m Brother Leon,” he offered her his hand. She took it firmly, and smiled at him, a bit hesitantly. He returned it, liking her.
    “I’m Brother Herman. Father Francis is the head of our little community,” Brother Herman directed her gaze to the crusty old man. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.”
    “Not visitors, at any rate,” Father Francis shook her hand with a wry smile through his bushy white beard. “Novices, on the other hand, aren’t as lucky.” He shot a glance at Leon, who immediately tried to look pious and innocent. “Watch out for that one,” Father Francis said, referring to Leon. “He forgets to make coffee.” Nodding to her curtly, he made his way out of the room.
    “This is Father Bernard,” Brother Herman went on as the slim dark monk with an aristocratic black beard took her hand and shook it solemnly. His face was gaunt and dark-eyed, but his soft voice had a Long Island twang. “Very good to meet you, Nora. Let us know if there’s any way we can help you.”
    “Thank you very much,” she said, subdued by his deep, icon-like eyes.
    “And that’s Brother George,” Brother Herman directed Nora to the scowling older man with bushy red hair who lifted a hand and vanished down the hallway, back to his dishes. “He’s—a bit shy.”
    “Hi, I’m Brother Matt,” the blond novice came over and shook her hand. “Hope you’ve recovered okay.”
    She looked at him in surprise. “Where are you from?”
    “Indiana,” he said, and laughed. His voice definitely had a drawl when contrasted to the sharp New York accents of the other friars. “I’m the first imported novice. All the other guys in the order are from the New York area. Father Francis gave a talk at my college and I came out to join.” He grinned. “I made the coffee this morning, so don’t worry, you won’t be poisoned or anything.”
    She laughed a little, and found her hand enveloped in the clamp of two large hands. “Hi,” a deep voice said above her. “I’m Charley.”
    She looked up at the brown-bearded face and green eyes. The accent was Brooklyn.
    “Believe it or not, Brother Charley’s in the seminary. Can you picture him a priest?” Matt said. “He used to be a Hell’s Angel.”
    “Really?”
    “Well, almost.” Brother Charley flushed a little, and began to talk rapidly. “I sure spent a lot of my life trying to be one, but I never quite made it in. And then God caught up with me, and the rest is history, as they say.”
    “Was God driving a hot rod?” Brother Leon elbowed him. “Yeah, we’re a new order, so we let in the riffraff.”
    The ex-biker said nothing, but smoothly put the smaller friar into a headlock and gave him a Dutch rub. Leon made choking noises and Charley released him with a smile.
    “Come, sister, if we keep standing here, these fellows will keep talking until lunch time. I believe there’s still some breakfast in the kitchen.” Brother Herman steered her away from the three boisterous novices.
    “I’ll make more if there’s not enough,” Leon came up behind them as they walked down the friary corridor. “I haven’t had my breakfast yet, either, Nora.”
    In a few minutes, he had set a plate of eggs—his portion—and toast before her at the refectory table. She started in hungrily. In the hallway, he could