Two men from the office of the local mayor arrived early morning at the mission house.

“Morning,” they greeted the nuns they found working in the kitchen.

The nuns were always shy around people of the opposite sex. Perhaps it was the pledge they took to restrain themselves in any engagements with them that caused this reaction with them. The nuns did not respond to the greeting posed to them by the men, they just smiled at them in a coy manner.

“A note for the Bishop,” and they handed the nun an envelope and left at once.

The nun passed the envelope to Sister Mabel but she gestured with her hand that she can take it upstairs to him. The nun left the kitchen and went up the stairs and into his study. She found the door into the study wide open. The Bishop was not there but she noticed that his bedroom door next to the study was shut and assumed he must be in there. She walked into the study and left the envelope on his study table. Hearing the movement of feet from the room next door The Bishop became curious. The Bishop opened his bedroom door as the nun was walking out of the study and asked:

“Sister were you looking for me?”

“Yes, Bishop. A letter was delivered from the office of the mayor,” she replied.

“I will have then please,” he said stretching his hand to receive it.

“May I?” she asked the Bishop. Gesturing that may she enter his study again.

“Go in, go in,” he replied.

She went in and took the letter she had just placed on the table. On her way out she noticed another letter on the floor caught between the door and the floor. It was as if it had been slipped in through the opening at the bottom of the door. She pulled that letter also and gave both letters to the Bishop.

“Thank you,” he said smiling as his hand received the letters he believed to be from the Mayor’s office.

He tore open the seal of the first letter and it read:

My dear friend

I have news that needs your approval urgently. Avail yourself at noon 2 days from now and I will come to your home. You will be pleased with the company I come with.

Your dear friend.

Mayor

He held the second letter in his hand an immediately it caught his attention. This was Mabel’s paper. He recognised its uniqueness and texture. She mixes dung with lavender and lays it out to dry and makes sheets of paper with it. She was a resourceful woman. Nothing went to waste with her and she saw potential in everything.

This was one of the reasons he was so attracted to her. She trained the nuns how to mould these sheets of paper and some even sell them at their stalls in the market place at the train station. She was impressive. She was an all-rounder. She was a good and pure woman; well up until recently he had come to question her purity and her goodness.

He held that letter in his hand a retreated to his study. He found his diary and scribbled in it the message from the Mayor and suggested time for the appointment. He folded the letter again, placed it back into its envelope and put it in a drawer. He found his armchair with his eyes, headed for it, sat down and gently opened the letter from Mabel. And it read:

Bishop

I humbly ask to speak to you. Please find it in your heart to spare me a moment. I have a story to tell you. A story told by the dance of a flock of birds. It was a story of life and love and hardships and trust.

Sister Mabel

He ran his finger through the paper feeling its rough texture; appreciating her art. He pulled it close to his face to smell the lavender piece he saw buried in between the dung.

He wanted to talk to her. He was ready to talk to her. He had calmed down.

He missed her and wanted her back in his life.

*****

Scatters of rain began to come down from the sky. It was a beautiful drizzle. It was light and non-explosive, just the kind of rain the Bishop liked. He rushed to go stand at his bedroom window not to miss the breeze that comes in with the rain. It was always fun for him, how people ran whenever the rain started.

“Wet is wet, just stop running – enjoy yourself,” he would often shout. He would often joke about life moments in his sermons to draw a point in his message home. The congregation would just crack up laughing, laughing at themselves, at their reality, at how not complicated life really was and how we put effort into complicating it. The people loved such sermons. They remembered them for days on end.

At that moment, he wondered about the letter from the Mayor, but instantly decided to push that thought to the back of his mind. His reality now was Mabel. He needed to find a way to uncomplicate a situation he made very, very complicated.

As he looked out the window, the nuns came out from the amphitheatre giggling, with their Bibles lifted up over their heads to shield them from the rain, running in single file to the mission house. “Wet is wet, just stop running – enjoy yourself,” he shouted from the window, the each looked up, waved at him, but continued running.

He loved these girls, he smiled backed and waved until the last one was out of sight, pleased that they had all chosen this life and that they were a quality breed of nuns and that they had all paid attentions to the teachings of Sister Mabel and passed their assessment and now about to graduate.

“I come summoned,” Sister Mabel recognised the voice of the Bishop but she didn’t turn around because she did not think he was talking to her.

They were alone in the upper room. The Bishop knew Mabel would be in there praying after he saw the nuns run back into the house.

“Mabel,” he called her name to see if he would get a reaction from her.

“I come summoned,” he repeated.

She gave him a cold look, a little confused what he was talking about. He might have read the letter yesterday, but she wrote it days ago. He saw the confusion on her face and pulled out the letter from his pocket and he saw her eyes gain clarity. She didn’t look particularly happy to see him standing before her; in fact he read no emotion in her. It was neither happiness nor anger. His presence just did not evoke much in her. He did not mater.

“Are you busy?” he asked her almost in a scared voice.

“Yes,” she replied to him.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Aren’t we busy talking?” she replied sounding very irritated.

He sat down on the floor.

“I will wait until you are done madam.”

“It is Sister Mabel to you – always,” she responded with a cross face.

But he ignored the cross face and just laughed. She stared at him for a while with cold eyes but at last laughed. First she laughed at him. Then she laughed with him. Then they laughed together. Then they cried.

She looked at him and noticed how he had gotten old from being angry and living without love.

“I’m really sorry, Donald,” she said to him.

“I’m really sorry too,” he said reaching out for her hand.

He really hated asking her this question but he had to.

“Is she mine?”

She nodded.

He let out a sigh of relief and panic.

“You were in exile. You wrote me many letters telling me that you had converted. You sounded happy. We were both young. I knew these news would deviate you from your path. I kept in contact with her family to-date. I sent them 20 pieces of silver every month. I never named her, but saw her birth mark on her hand. I asked that they never send me photos of her, but they must update me on her progress on all stages of life. I asked that they tell her about us and if she so chooses, she can contact us. I sent a letter for her to be given to her on her 13th birthday. I told her where we are and what were are doing. I explained that I gave her away and you didn’t know of her existence. I told her I had never seen her face and if she so chooses she can come to us or stay away.”

Donald listened to every word Mabel told her.

“So she came that day. My heart leaped right out of me when I saw her. I felt a connection so strong and so pure I knew that was my child. I panicked and scared her off.”

“She came back again. She is sweet and gentle just like you, Mabel. She is beautiful and gracious, just like you,” said the Bishop.

He stood up from the floor, feeling free and happy and proud.

“Thank you for making me a dad, mom,” he said looking straight into her eyes and she wept hysterically.

***

Tell us: What do you think is the reason we need to forgive?