The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,102

he found? I see.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“No need to be.”

“It was kind of hard explaining to him what this place is all about.”

“This place?” She shakes her head. “You not trying if you find this hard. People gotta need, somebody gotta do something. Simple as that. They don’t gotta be perfect, they just gotta be breathing. Nobody down here expects you to be perfect.”

“Can I ask you something, though? You’re not really a nun, right?”

“Me, a nun? Where you get that idea?”

“The outfit,” I say. “Calling yourself Mother Zacchaeus.”

“This outfit, this my armor. My name, it makes perfect sense. When a person change, they name gotta change as well. Don’t you know the Bible none, you good Christian lady? What happened to that man Saul when the Lord gotta hold of him? New man, new name.”

“But your real name is Rosetta Harvey.”

“Lady, I don’t know what my real name gonna be. But what it is for now is Zacchaeus. It means white, pure, like the heart of Jesus himself. I don’t answer to nothing else.”

“Well, my name’s not Lady,” I say. “It’s Beth.”

She holds out her small, thick hand. “Good to meet you, then, Beth.”

On the threshold, Sam waits anxiously, her hands clasped at her waist. She looks quite delicate with the daylight shining in around her. I could easily imagine this girl in Deedee’s painting, a square halo atop her head. And I could picture Zacchaeus there too, perhaps her more than anyone. “She may not be a nun,” I can hear Deedee’s deep voice saying, “but that doesn’t mean she’s not a saint.” Aren’t we all, though, in Deedee’s world?

Aren’t we all?

Mother Zacchaeus leads Sam through the lounge, where several people recognize her. They coo in amazement at how greatly she’s changed. While they’re occupied, I turn to Gregory. “Why don’t you show Rick around the place?”

The two men disappear up the stairs while I linger at the entrance to the lounge, my back to the entryway and the unused check-in counter, watching Mission Up’s inmates make a big to-do over the prodigal’s return. Eventually, Sam manages to draw Mother Zacchaeus into the next room. I’m sure she has a speech all prepared, and while the nun (I can’t think of her otherwise) won’t enjoy the process, she’ll find the grace inside her at least to endure it.

“You back,” Aziza says, circling around me to get to the couch. She plops down heavily, then reaches into her V-neck shirt to produce a pack of cigarettes.

“Ain’t no smoking in here!” one of the kids shouts.

“Go on with you,” she says, patting his head. But she puts the pack away. “Didn’t think you would be, after last time. Back, I mean. The way Big Z hauled off and slapped you. You got some guts, girl. If you can stand up to that woman, you can stand up to whatever. Still, she told me you wasn’t done with this place.”

“She did?”

Aziza nods. “She say she could see it in you. You was coming back.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Not then.”

“Well,” she says, drawing the word out. “If you brought your kid down here, I guess she figured you was making yourself at home.”

“Speaking of him, I didn’t appreciate the way you were coming on to him.”

“Coming on to him?” She smirks. “Now that I thought you would appreciate. You were trying to scare him, right?”

The problem with this place, I think, is that they see you coming a mile away. And they’ve got your number too. They’ve had it all along.

“Maybe,” I say.

When Mother Zacchaeus and Sam emerge, I see something I never expected. The nun’s arm hangs from the girl’s shoulder, and I am almost positive there’s a damp shine to Mother Zacchaeus’s eyes. They walk through the lounge and out, drawing me along. The men come downstairs, pausing midway when they see the aproned nun in their path, afraid of being caught. But she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s still pondering whatever Sam had to say.

As the others file out, I linger. Mother Zacchaeus leans on the doorpost, her legs crossed, grinning after them. At least, I think it’s a grin. Her lips can’t hold the unfamiliar posture long enough for me to make sure.

“I want you to know something. I’ll be back.”

She nods, not looking at all surprised.

“I don’t know how to help you,” I say. “But I’m going to find a way.”

“That won’t be difficult,” she replies. “The one thing we never run out of here is