She thought about making herself a strong cup of black tea. Seemed like it might not do no hurt, what with God smiling in the sky today. Mighty hard sometimes to understand the way of God. Mighty hard.
Seemed like she could fairly smell the fragrance of good black tea filling the cellar. Seemed like a body should have her tea. She looked a little hopefully at her tea pot sitting on the cupboard shelf.
"Ain't no use carrying on so, Sister Faye," the Spirit started to scold. "Seems like you shouldn't ought to be mistrusting the Master thataway. Seems like you ought to have more spunk. Day like this made just to order for soul-saving. This here Mary Magdalen got to be saved somehow. You got to save her."
"But how can I do it?" Sister Faye snivelled.
"You ain't to ask how," the Spirit said brusquely. "You just got to do it. Come on and put the tea pot to boil and have youself a good cup of that there black tea."
Sister Faye felt quite cheerful after her second cup of tea. She read the passage out of her bible about Mary Magdalen again. Then she closed her eyes and began to sing. Seemed like she could almost see the diamond diadem from the window of Ivan's second-handed store glittering on Mary's head. Seemed like she could hear Mary saying, "Now I been gifted by the spirit of God, I ain't going to sin no more."
She grabbed her handbag and scurried up the cellar stairs and into the street. Her heart sang as she pushed open the door to the pawn shop.
"How much for that there diamond diadem, Brother Ivan?" she asked.
Ivan pulled at his well-kept gray beard thoughtfully. Funny how soft and slim and white his fingers looked pulling at his beard. Sister Faye studied him while in the corner of her eye the diadem glittered from its bed of red velvet. Ivan's close-set eyes were like polished stones. Suddenly his taut lips moved with decision.
"A special price I make for you," he said. "I give you this so beautiful work of art for such a consideration of eleven dollars and thirty cents. It is only that I make this offer to a friend."
Sister Faye shivered. It might be harder than she had figured to talk Ivan down. She took the diadem in her hand and pretended to evaluate it carefully. Then she opened up her handbag and drew out a little leather purse. She knew the purse was empty, but she opened it with a show of dismay.
Ivan frowned. "Is it that you have no money, then, to buy this so elegant gift?"
Sister Faye's fingers flew fruitlessly through her shabby handbag.
"Ain't it silly of me," she babbled. "'Pears like I plumb forgot to bring my money with me. "Pears like I left it home."
Ivan folded his slim hands carefully and pondered. He trusted this woman. It was not likely that he would sell the diadem readily. Money was hard. If he should let Sister Faye get away, perhaps she would not return.
"It is that you are my friend," he said, bowing his head slightly, "that I should want you to have this beautiful diadem. You will take it home with you and Ivan will expect you to return perhaps before five, yes?"
Sister Faye's hand trembled as she took the diadem in her leathery hand. She held it up to catch the weak light from Ivan's ceiling bulb and turned it slowly this way and that. Thin gold letters etched in cursive inside the diadem caught her eye and she squinted to try to read their meaning.
"Brother Ivan, what's it say here?" she asked.
Ivan took the diadem in one hand and adjusted his glasses with the other. He peered closely at the inscription.
"To Ann -- From Jim," he intoned softly.
Sister Faye's hands flew to her face as she realized what the words meant.
"Praise God!" she cried as she grabbed the diadem and stuffed it into her handbag. She ran from the store exulting.
"Praise His name!
Praise Him eternally!
In the name of the sweet merciful Jesus,
Praise Him!"
The old woman walked the streets for hours, studying each face. A poor child like Mary should surely have what belonged to her. Ought to be some way a body could figure this out so as to make things right. But it seemed as though she never would find the yellow-haired man who had stolen her money.
After a long while of searching, Sister Faye's feet began to ache and she looked at a clock in a store window. It was four o'clock in the afternoon. The March sun was now a sallow image lost in dark clouds and a wintry chill corroded the sea air.
CONTINUED