coming with me.”
Adoration Chapel, Maria Angelorum Church, Milton, New York
Evangeline dipped a finger into the fount of holy water, blessing herself before she ran down the
wide central aisle of Maria Angelorum. By the time she entered the quiet, contemplative space of the
Adoration Chapel, her breathing had grown heavy. She had never missed adoration before—it was an
unthinkable transgression, one she could not have imagined committing. She could hardly believe the
person she was becoming. Only yesterday she had lied to Sister Philomena. Now she had missed her
assigned hour of adoration. Sister Philomena must have been astonished by her absence. She slid into
a pew near Sisters Mercedes and Magdalena, daily prayer partners from seven to eight each morning,
hoping her presence would not disturb them. Even as she closed her eyes in prayer, Evangeline’s face
burned with shame.
She should have been able to pray, but instead she opened her eyes and glanced about the chapel,
looking at the monstrance, the altar, the beads of the rosary in Sister Magdalena’s fingers. Yet the
moment she began, the presence of the heavenly spheres windows struck her as if they were new
additions to the chapel—the size, the intricacy, the sumptuously vibrant colors of the angels crowding
together in the glass. If she examined them closely, she could see that the windows were illuminated
by tiny halogen lights positioned around them, trained upon the glass as if in worship. Evangeline
strained to make out the population of the angels. Harps, flutes, trumpets—their instruments scattered
like golden coins through the blue and red panes. The seal that Verlaine had shown her on the
architectural drawings had been placed at this very spot. She thought of Gabriella’s cards and the
beautiful renderings of angels on each cover. How had it happened that Evangeline had looked upon
these windows so often and had never really seen their significance?
Below one of the windows, etched into the stone, a passage read:
If there is an angel as mediator for him,
One out of a thousand,
To remind a man what is right for him,
Then let him be gracious to him, and say,
“Deliver him from going down to the pit,
I have found a ransom.”
—Job 33:23—24
Evangeline had read the passage every day of her many years at St. Rose Convent, and each day the
words had seemed an unsolvable puzzle. The sentence had slithered through her thoughts, slick and
ungraspable, moving through her mind without catching. Now the words “mediator” and “pit” and
“ransom” began to fit into place. Sister Celestine had been right: Once she began looking, she would
find angelology living and breathing everywhere.
It dismayed her that the sisters had kept so much from her. Recalling Gabriella’s voice on the
telephone, Evangeline wondered if perhaps she should pack her things and go to New York. Perhaps
her grandmother could help her understand everything more clearly. The hold the convent had had on
her only the day before had diminished by all that she’d learned.
A hand on her shoulder disturbed her from her thoughts. Sister Philomena motioned for Evangeline
to follow her. Obeying, Evangeline left the Adoration Chapel, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and
anger. The sisters had not trusted her with the truth. How could Evangeline possibly trust them?
“Come, Sister,” Philomena said once they were in the hallway. Whatever anger Philomena must
have felt at Evangeline’s truancy had disappeared. Now her manner was inexplicably gentle and
resigned. And yet something about Sister Philomena’s demeanor seemed disingenuous. Evangeline
didn’t entirely believe her to be genuine, although she couldn’t pinpoint why. Together they headed
through the central hallway of the convent, past the photographs of distinguished mothers and sisters
and the painting of St. Rose of Viterbo, stopping before a familiar set of wooden doors. It was only
natural that Philomena would lead her to the library, where they could speak with some measure of
privacy. Philomena unlocked the doors, and Evangeline stepped into the shadowy room.
“Sit, child, sit,” Philomena said. Evangeline arranged herself on the green velvet sofa, across from
the fireplace. The room was cold, the result of the perennially ill-fitting flue. Sister Philomena went
to a table near her office and plugged in the electric kettle. When the water boiled, she poured it into
a porcelain pot. Setting two cups on a tray, she waddled back to the sofa, placing the tray on a low
table. Taking the wooden chair opposite Evangeline, she opened a metal cookie box and offered
Evangeline an assortment of FSPA Christmas Cookies—butter cookies that had been baked, frosted,