Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold by Regina Doman Page A

rushing through the darkness.
    II
    As usual, Brother Leon had a difficult time concentrating on his Tuesday morning class on the Franciscan vows. He disliked sitting still, and shifted his feet and toyed with his pencil while Father Bernard lectured.
    To make matters worse, they were in the room right next to the front door, and Leon was aware each time it was opened. He would catch snatches of conversation, get distracted, and have to forcibly turn his mind back to the explication of poverty, chastity, and obedience.
    After a man had tried unsuccessfully to sell the friars a box of sugar packets “he just happened to find” outside a restaurant and Brother Herman had turned him away, Leon tried to pull his attention back to the Middle Ages and St. Francis. Then there was another knock at the door. Father Bernard sighed audibly, and looked at the door to the room, but as the office door was off its hinges, it was impossible to close it.
    The knock came again, insistently, and Brother Leon wondered where the porter was. As the knocking continued, he stared at Father Bernard, wondering if his novice master would dispatch him to open it. The thought seemed to pass through the priest’s mind, but just as he turned to Leon and started to speak, they all heard Father Francis emerge from the kitchen and hurry to the door, his sandals smacking on the floor.
    “Hello,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically cheerful, “And what can I do for you?”
    There was a woman’s voice, rasping and aged by time, saying something Leon couldn’t catch.
    “Well, we have food distribution on Thursdays. But come in, and I’ll see if Brother Herman can give you something from the food pantry right now,” Father Francis said at last.
    “Oh, thank you!” the woman exclaimed. “That’s so kind of you!”
    “Herman!” Father Francis called, with the barest touch of irritation. Meaning, “Why weren’t you here to get the door?”
    “Coming!” came a frantic voice from upstairs, and the novices, who were all listening despite themselves, grinned at each other. They heard Brother Herman’s bulk hurrying down the steps. This is like listening to a sitcom, Brother Leon thought.
    “This is Bonnie. She just came to the neighborhood,” Father Francis said, and for the next few minutes, the two older friars and the old woman chatted back and forth. Brother Leon heroically turned his attention back to the discussion of Sts. Dominic and Francis and their views on the vows. At last the conversation died away as Brother Herman led the visitor to the pantry, and Father Francis returned to his kitchen chores.
    Then a few minutes later, Leon glanced up and saw someone standing in the doorway, inquisitively looking at the makeshift classroom. It was an old woman in a ragged black trench coat with bulging pockets, her shoulders stooped, her aged face covered by some kind of bright blue wool ski hat with a green visor covering her eyes. She wore incredible red high-topped shoes on her feet.
    “Hi boys,” she said in a cracked voice. “What you doin’ in there?”
    Of course, every eye in the room was on her.
    “We’re learning about Franciscan vows. These are our novices,” Father Bernard said courteously, as though the bag lady were a visiting dignitary.
    The woman fixed each of them with a gleaming eye. “Hi,” she croaked again. “Well, carry on.”
    “We will,” Father Bernard said as Brother Herman appeared in the doorway next to her, holding a bag of food.
    “Here you are, Bonnie. Oh, I see you’ve found our novices. This is Father Bernard, Brother Charley, Brother Matt…” But the bag lady had already turned away and was heading down the corridor towards the refectory.
    “We’ve met,” came her cracked voice.
    “Uh—excuse me!” Brother Herman hurried after her, his hands full of the sacks of food.
    Brother Leon chuckled to himself and turned back to Father Bernard once again, but his attention was still partly aware of