Novella: Sister Aloysius Beauvier’s Mortal Sin, Chapter: 8 A Serpent In The Garden
Title: Sister Aloysius Beauvier’s Mortal Sin
Chapter: Eight, A Serpent In The Garden
Author: halfsquat (aka Half Squire)
Fandom: Doubt
Pairing: Sister Aloysius/ Sister James
Rating: PG 13
Genre: Romance/Drama/Suspense
Spoilers: Doubt
Disclaimer: All characters from Doubt belong to their creators. I claim no ownership and intend no copyright infringement. Everything unrelated to Doubt and all divergence from their script is my doing. Much of the dialogue comes directly from the script.
***
“Sister Aloysius Beauvier’s Mortal Sin”
a fan fiction novella
by Half Squire
inspired by the film Doubt,
and, respectfully, drawn heavily from it
***
Chapters:
I. The Dragon Is Hungry
II. My Concerns Are My Own
III. Candy, By Another Name
IV. Farther From God
V. Doubt Presses Her To The Bed
VI. Cat, Kitten, Rat
VII. The Cat And The Kitten
VIII. A Serpent In The Garden
XI. Caged
X. Questions Of Taxonomy
XI. Madonnas
***
VIII. A Serpent In The Garden
***
A crow caws. In the school garden, Sister James reads over a letter. Under brooding eyebrows, she frets it. A cold chill entered the area, blessed it with snowflakes. Now, snow covers the ground. Dormant, all the rosebushes are wrapped in burlap shawls. Again, the crow caws. Pulling her shawl more closely about her, she watches as the bird eyes her.
“What’s that bird complaining about?” a male voice asks from behind. Sister James jumps and looks it its direction. “What kind of bird is that? That a starling? A grackle?” Sister James turns quizzical, as she tries to decipher if he’s jesting.
“A crow,” she says slowly.
“A’course it is. Are you praying? I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He makes no move to withdraw.
“I’m not praying, no.” Dejected, she fingers the letter in her hands.
“You seem subdued.”
“Oh. I can’t sleep.” Sighing, she shrugs.
“Why not?”
“Bad dreams.”
“Yeah, I can’t sleep on occasion.”
“Why? Do you see that big hand pointing a finger at you?” Her eyebrows arch almost accusingly.
“Yes. Sometimes,” he admits. “Do you?”
“…sometimes. Was your sermon directed at anyone in particular?”
“What do you think?” Father Flynn lights a cigarette. A thin line of smoke sifts up through the branches. The crow flies off. Silence ebbs as the crow’s wings depart.
“I received a letter from my brother, in Maryland. He’s very sick.”
“Then maybe you should go and see him.”
“I can’t leave my class,” she says with finality. Flynn takes a drag from his cigarette.
“Is it true?” she asks, breaking the small silence. She watches its shards land in the snow.
“What?” He balks.
“You know what I’m asking.”
“No.”
“I saw you put an undershirt in Donald Miller’s locker.”
“He left it in the sacristy.”
“Why didn’t you hand it to him?”
“I’m trying to spare him further embarrassment.” Frustrated, Sister James shakes her head. Flynn sits down next to James on the bench. “It’s me that cares about that child, not her. Has she ever reached out a hand?” James remembers the feel of Aloysius’s hand covering her own. “That black boy needs help or he’s not going to make it! If she has her way, he’ll be left to his own undoing. Why do you think he drank the wine? He’s in trouble! And she sees me talk in a human way to these kids, and she immediately assumes that there must be something wrong with it. Well, I’m not going to let her keep this parish in the dark ages! And I’m not going to let her destroy my spirit of compassion!” he finishes forcefully.
“I’m sure that’s not her intent.” She fingers her lips, remembers the kiss that eluded her earlier.
“I care about this congregation!”
“I know you do,” she agrees, at only half-attention.
“Like you care about your class! You love them, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she replies thoughtfully.
“And that’s natural. How else would you relate to children? I can look at your face and know your philosophy. It’s kindness. Pulled from her thoughts, she looks at him.
“I-I don’t know. I mean, of course.”
“There are people who go after your humanity, Sister, that tell you the light in your heart is a weakness. Don’t believe it. It’s an old tactic of cruel people to kill kindness in the name of virtue. There’s nothing wrong with love.” Last night’s kiss flashes before her eyes.
“Love?”
“Have you forgotten the message of our Savior? It’s love of people.”
“I just feel as if everything is upside down.” James buries her head in her hands. The letter obscures her face entirely. Her words sound meekly behind it.
“There are just times in life when we feel lost. It happens.” James rises.
“I should be going.”
“I’m sorry your brother’s ill,” he calls after her. Slowly, he takes another drag from his cigarette.
***
With her back to the class, Sister James chalks information onto blackboard. Her foul mood is written on her face. The children are inattentive. A spattering of laughter pinballs across the room. With fury, she spins sharply on her heel to face them.
“Okay. Be quiet. I said be quiet!” she shouts. The laughter stops. The smiles face. “The next one of you that speaks out of turn gets sent right to the Principal! Now the question was: What was Patrick Henry’s famous remark?” Eagarly, Jimmy raises his hand. She ignores it, eyes Donald, who is still inattentive. “Donald?”
“Sister?”
“What was the question?” she asks. “Nobody help him,” she adds sharply. Frantically, Jimmy waves his hand to be called on. “Jimmy, put your hand down.” He does so. “Donald Miller, stand up.” The requested boy stands. “What was the question, Donald?”
“I don’t know, Sister.”
“That means you weren’t listening.”
“Yes, Sister.”
“The question was: What was Patrick Henry’s famous remark?” Jimmy fidgets in his seat. The correct answer itches at his pale lips.
“I don’t know.”
“Give me liberty or give me death!” Jimmy blurts; a grin immediately finishes it
“Jimmy Hurley, down to the Principal’s office now!” she yells; her finger stabs in the direction of the door. Jimmy slinks off.
***
Chapter: Eight, A Serpent In The Garden
Author: halfsquat (aka Half Squire)
Fandom: Doubt
Pairing: Sister Aloysius/ Sister James
Rating: PG 13
Genre: Romance/Drama/Suspense
Spoilers: Doubt
Disclaimer: All characters from Doubt belong to their creators. I claim no ownership and intend no copyright infringement. Everything unrelated to Doubt and all divergence from their script is my doing. Much of the dialogue comes directly from the script.
***
“Sister Aloysius Beauvier’s Mortal Sin”
a fan fiction novella
by Half Squire
inspired by the film Doubt,
and, respectfully, drawn heavily from it
***
Chapters:
I. The Dragon Is Hungry
II. My Concerns Are My Own
III. Candy, By Another Name
IV. Farther From God
V. Doubt Presses Her To The Bed
VI. Cat, Kitten, Rat
VII. The Cat And The Kitten
VIII. A Serpent In The Garden
XI. Caged
X. Questions Of Taxonomy
XI. Madonnas
***
VIII. A Serpent In The Garden
***
A crow caws. In the school garden, Sister James reads over a letter. Under brooding eyebrows, she frets it. A cold chill entered the area, blessed it with snowflakes. Now, snow covers the ground. Dormant, all the rosebushes are wrapped in burlap shawls. Again, the crow caws. Pulling her shawl more closely about her, she watches as the bird eyes her.
“What’s that bird complaining about?” a male voice asks from behind. Sister James jumps and looks it its direction. “What kind of bird is that? That a starling? A grackle?” Sister James turns quizzical, as she tries to decipher if he’s jesting.
“A crow,” she says slowly.
“A’course it is. Are you praying? I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He makes no move to withdraw.
“I’m not praying, no.” Dejected, she fingers the letter in her hands.
“You seem subdued.”
“Oh. I can’t sleep.” Sighing, she shrugs.
“Why not?”
“Bad dreams.”
“Yeah, I can’t sleep on occasion.”
“Why? Do you see that big hand pointing a finger at you?” Her eyebrows arch almost accusingly.
“Yes. Sometimes,” he admits. “Do you?”
“…sometimes. Was your sermon directed at anyone in particular?”
“What do you think?” Father Flynn lights a cigarette. A thin line of smoke sifts up through the branches. The crow flies off. Silence ebbs as the crow’s wings depart.
“I received a letter from my brother, in Maryland. He’s very sick.”
“Then maybe you should go and see him.”
“I can’t leave my class,” she says with finality. Flynn takes a drag from his cigarette.
“Is it true?” she asks, breaking the small silence. She watches its shards land in the snow.
“What?” He balks.
“You know what I’m asking.”
“No.”
“I saw you put an undershirt in Donald Miller’s locker.”
“He left it in the sacristy.”
“Why didn’t you hand it to him?”
“I’m trying to spare him further embarrassment.” Frustrated, Sister James shakes her head. Flynn sits down next to James on the bench. “It’s me that cares about that child, not her. Has she ever reached out a hand?” James remembers the feel of Aloysius’s hand covering her own. “That black boy needs help or he’s not going to make it! If she has her way, he’ll be left to his own undoing. Why do you think he drank the wine? He’s in trouble! And she sees me talk in a human way to these kids, and she immediately assumes that there must be something wrong with it. Well, I’m not going to let her keep this parish in the dark ages! And I’m not going to let her destroy my spirit of compassion!” he finishes forcefully.
“I’m sure that’s not her intent.” She fingers her lips, remembers the kiss that eluded her earlier.
“I care about this congregation!”
“I know you do,” she agrees, at only half-attention.
“Like you care about your class! You love them, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she replies thoughtfully.
“And that’s natural. How else would you relate to children? I can look at your face and know your philosophy. It’s kindness. Pulled from her thoughts, she looks at him.
“I-I don’t know. I mean, of course.”
“There are people who go after your humanity, Sister, that tell you the light in your heart is a weakness. Don’t believe it. It’s an old tactic of cruel people to kill kindness in the name of virtue. There’s nothing wrong with love.” Last night’s kiss flashes before her eyes.
“Love?”
“Have you forgotten the message of our Savior? It’s love of people.”
“I just feel as if everything is upside down.” James buries her head in her hands. The letter obscures her face entirely. Her words sound meekly behind it.
“There are just times in life when we feel lost. It happens.” James rises.
“I should be going.”
“I’m sorry your brother’s ill,” he calls after her. Slowly, he takes another drag from his cigarette.
***
With her back to the class, Sister James chalks information onto blackboard. Her foul mood is written on her face. The children are inattentive. A spattering of laughter pinballs across the room. With fury, she spins sharply on her heel to face them.
“Okay. Be quiet. I said be quiet!” she shouts. The laughter stops. The smiles face. “The next one of you that speaks out of turn gets sent right to the Principal! Now the question was: What was Patrick Henry’s famous remark?” Eagarly, Jimmy raises his hand. She ignores it, eyes Donald, who is still inattentive. “Donald?”
“Sister?”
“What was the question?” she asks. “Nobody help him,” she adds sharply. Frantically, Jimmy waves his hand to be called on. “Jimmy, put your hand down.” He does so. “Donald Miller, stand up.” The requested boy stands. “What was the question, Donald?”
“I don’t know, Sister.”
“That means you weren’t listening.”
“Yes, Sister.”
“The question was: What was Patrick Henry’s famous remark?” Jimmy fidgets in his seat. The correct answer itches at his pale lips.
“I don’t know.”
“Give me liberty or give me death!” Jimmy blurts; a grin immediately finishes it
“Jimmy Hurley, down to the Principal’s office now!” she yells; her finger stabs in the direction of the door. Jimmy slinks off.
***