Chapter Text
Even makes his way down the hall, stopping at the four way crossing just as the nuns are exiting the ornate chapel doors in single file. He stops, inclining his head respectfully toward Mother Superior, his lips in a contained, but grateful smile. She returns his silent greeting with a stiff nod of her own, but her eyes luminous and joyful. She is far less scary this morning, for some reason he can’t quite understand, despite the darkness of the enclosed hallway. He lets the single file pass him and disperse throughout the corridors, ending by following a rotund nun that winks at him as she passes by, and signals for him to follow her. He eyes the direction she’s taking - toward the kitchen - and decides to fall silently in step beside her, heeding her pressed finger onto her lips, gesturing for silence.
He’s very proud of himself for having the presence of mind last night to not have opened the door to the kitchen the way this sister does right now. A loud screeching noise, like a wounded bird of prey, makes the hinges yield in protest. It repeats as the sister closes the door behind them with a definitive sound of a latch taking hold.
“Well good morning young lad. You’re up early.” she remarks with a pleasant smile, a distinct German lilt to her English, extending her hand. “Suor Maria Irmegarda, Irme for short or Garda, like the lake, if you prefer.” she introduces herself, her eyebrows rising in a question.
“Even, not even.” he introduces himself, taking her offered hand, welcoming the firm shake. Sister Irme looks like a very capable, take charge kind of person.
“Well Even, I hope you’re here to work, because we have one hour to get everything ready for breakfast. We could use both our hands assembling this meal, after Primes. How are you as a cook’s helper?”
“Let’s just say that if I didn't cook, my partner would be living on pizza and ramen noodles, no vegetables or fruits.” He says, confident of his meal prep and cooking abilities. Irme ‘tsks’ in response disapproving of Isak’s poor eating habits, making Even nod and smile wide. “Point me to where you want me, and I’ll get to work.”
She eyes him warily as he dons an apron left on one of the work surfaces, then strides confidently toward a knife block. After testing Even with various menial kitchen tasks, peeling, chopping and using his height to help her take cans and sacs of flour, sugar and oats from a high shelf, Sister Irme puts him in front of two gigantic pans and gives him instructions on how to start one for porridge, and one for mixed vegetables frittata. Sister Irme gets to work on pastries, shaping doughs, pouring cooked fruit fillings, and taking other pre-made ones out of the large industrial-sized fridge along with fresh fruits, and a tray of at least fifty eggs.
Secure in his knowledge that he’s allayed any of Irme’s misgivings about his cooking abilities, Even draws her into a light conversation about their travels, and why they found themselves stranded at the convent’s gates late yesterday evening.
“All this to make it back to Bergen.”
“That’s a long way from Brindisi.” Irme points out.
“Yes. But it’s our manager’s wedding.” Even replies, then he thoughtfully adds, “Well he’s more than a ‘manager’,” he says, making air quotes. “He’s been a mentor, a supporter, an organiser, even a parental figure when it is needed. It’s time for us to support him.”
“You sound like loyal friends, besides being band mates.” Irme comments, with another warm smile.
As they continue to chit chat and their food preparations, the smells from Sister Irme’s baked goods are permeating the kitchen and making Even salivate and hungry. He’s starting to wonder when the guys are going to find their way to the kitchen. He doesn’t have to wait too long, because Sander’s white head pops in right as Even and Sister Irme are balancing stacks of plates and utensils on a large tray to bring to the refectory for table set-up.
“Hey! You’re here.”
“Yeah, give us a hand will you.” Even says, loading Sander’s arms with items he and Irme would have had to make a second trip to retrieve.
“Whoa! Wait I—”
“No dilly dallying. There’s work to be done.” Even cuts him off, smiling mischievously at Sander’s puzzled bewilderment, earning Sister Irme’s quiet smile of approval.
Once in the refectory, Irme gives everyone tasks, and as they all go about their assignments: setting up the long table, setting all the serving trays on the massive sideboard, Even introduces Sander.
“Sister Irme is the head cook for the convent. This is Sander, the guitarist of our group. Where are the others?” Even asks him.
“Let’s see, Isak is still sleeping. I guess, note for yourself, hard planks do the trick.”
“Trick?” Sister Irme asks, perplexed.
“He’s not a great sleeper.” Sander clarifies.
“I’m sure I could find some good herbs that would help him.”
“Sister Irme is a bit of a herbalist.” Even explains.
“I dabble.”
“I’ll have to tell both Robbe and Isak. Speaking of my better half, he went to check on the van.”
“He’s not taking the Grand Stairway, is he?” Sister Irme asks, inserting herself in their conversation, her face unreadable other than a hint of concern in her question.
“Well it’s the way we came, last night. You sound concerned Sister Irme.” Even asks, scrutinizing her face.
“Maybe there’s another entry, and we missed the turn off.” Sander suggests, then chuckles, receiving a friendly shove to his shoulder from Even. They both notice that Sister Irme says nothing, turns her back to them and busies herself, avoiding interaction and eye contact with either Even or Sander.
“Sister Irme? Is there another entrance to the convent?” Suddenly suspicious, Even asks, making an effort to keep his tone soft, although he doesn’t know why. After what seems an interminably long pause, Irme replies.
“I think you’re onto something young Sander, I can explain more later.”
The explanation seems to satisfy Sander enough as he moves toward the door, and Even doesn’t insist either. “Can you send Robbe a message and let him know to bring our instruments, no amps?” Even asks a receding Sander.
“Shouldn’t we be getting on the road, though?”
“We have plenty of time. It’s still early.” Even replies, watching Sander type on his screen as he hears the bells toll above them when they exit the refectory into the glazed hallway.
“That’s me!” Sister Irme sings songs as she overtakes them in the short walk back between refectory and kitchen. “Even, be a dear and check on that last batch of strawberry danishes.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be back after Primes,” she says over her shoulder, as she rushes to join her sisters rounding the corner at the end of the hallway and, in single file, already making their way into the chapel.
“What are Primes?” Sander asks, scrunching his face at Even. “Is that, like, a delivery from Amazon or something?”
“About six o’clock, the service she’s rushing to right now.” Even clarifies, shaking his head and chuckling.
“Right. I can’t believe I’m up at this ungodly hour for a third day in a row. Okay I’m off to find Robbe, see you later.” Sander replies with an impish face, happy to have extracted from his stage partner, and long time friend, a hearty laugh.
By the time the bells ring seven times, Sander, Isak and Robbe come looking for Even in the kitchen, where their hungry gazes immediately start eye-balling the baked tarts and danishes Even is removing from the oven with much too much interest. He swats at reaching hands, more than once.
“Keep your grubby hands off the food!”
“But we’re hungry!” the others reply in a plaintive chorus, complete with sad puppy eyes.
“Suck it up, guys. You can last a few minutes longer.” Even replies sternly, then relents and softens his tone to explain. “Sister Irme keeps count, she’s going to read me the riot act if one of these disappears, and I’d rather avoid that particular experience. Here, have this one, she gave it to me earlier.” He hands over a misshapen strawberry danish, that is ripped in three and devoured on the spot by three salivating mouths.
Food still being chewed, Even shepherds them all out of the kitchen. They go to stand in the wide corridor, leaning against the glazed arches. It kind of goes without saying that our heroes are not very demonstrative toward each other when in public spaces they’re not familiar. But add to that self check the fact that they’ve been rescued by nuns, and they’ve been on their best guarded behaviours, most of the time. Well last night was a very big exception. It’s only them in the corridor, so they let their guards down a little. Even half sits on the stone sill, leaning against the glass as Isak slots between his legs, and leans his back against Even’s chest, lacing their hands together.
“You slept okay?” Even whispers close to Isak’s ear, his chin lightly resting on Isak’s shoulder. With a sigh Isak lets himself sag, melting into Even. He leans slightly his head to the side, putting cheek to stubbled cheek, and makes a barely perceived nod, his mind drifting to the night before, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
Next to them, Robbe and Sander stand hugging each other, Robbe’s head resting on Sander’s shoulder, as Sander gently caresses Robbe’s scalp and nape while murmuring to each other.
The doors to the chapel open. Even lets go of Isak, Sander does the same to Robbe. They stand shoulder to shoulder, next to each other greeting the Mother Superior with a smile, as she passes them by, returning one of her own with a soft gaze. This is a far cry from the foreboding and down-right scary person they had met last night.
At first glance, breakfast looks and sounds like it’s going to be a solemn affair. In a single file, heads bowed, their soft shoes barely making any noises, the nuns enter the refectory, followed by a few novitiates and sister Irme, bringing up the rear. She gestures for them to follow her inside the dining room. They find separate spaces around the table, all of them flanked by sisters on both sides. In the end the anticipated solemnity never materializes, instead light conversations ebb and flow, generating laughter when questions invariably ask them how they found themselves in the predicament that brought them to the convent’s doors. The food is passed around and they are all encouraged to serve themselves more than once of the delicious offerings.
Finally, Mother Superior rings a small bell by her plate, garnering everyone’s attention, and reminds them of everyone’s tasks for the day in preparation for the gates to be opened to the villagers of nearby towns for their monthly exchange.
“Monthly exchange?” Even asks, curiosity peeking his interest, turning toward Sister Irme sitting between him and Sander.
“Indeed,” she says, her eyes glowing, “it’s a long-standing tradition that dates back to the beginning of the convent, circa 1300s.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it started as a means to show the surrounding towns and villages to be able to access fresh vegetables in exchange for what meager crafts were brought as barters. It was also a way to show the population that they could seek refuge within the convent’s walls during times of conflict. Times have changed, but the bartering aspect still remains, we discourage any money exchanges. Our cloister and chapel are also quiet and peaceful places, and for the modern person it’s a refuge of another sort.”
“What a great story.” Looking around to everyone dispersing to their tasks, Even stands up, and begins to gather plates and utensils from the table.
“What are you doing, Even?” Sister Irme asks, a note of confusion bordering on reproach in her voice.
“I’m clearing the table?” he explains, blinking at her.
“You are not to do that.” she replies firmly.
“But I—”
“You helped me this morning in making breakfast, go relax. I’ll take those two instead.” she says pointing at Robbe and Isak.
“Robbe and Isak” Even clarifies who’s who by pointing at each respectively.
Hearing their names being spoken, they both turn and point at their chests with a question on their faces.
“Yes, both of you.” Even confirms, gesturing for them to come closer.
Leaving Isak and Robbe with Sister Irme, Even walks over to Sander where he’s smoothly talking to one of the novices, making her giggle. “Excuse us.” he says as he grabs Sander under his arm and pulls him away.
“Stop flirting with the novices!”
“I’m not flirting.”
“Well they’re not groupies at a concert either. And last time you got carried away with your flirting, Robbe was so irritated that being on stage with all of you became like a Fleetwood Mac Rumours recording session.”
“Fine. Just stop dragging me around.” Sander petulantly says, planting his feet and shrugging Even’s hand off him.
“Let’s go get our instruments. I need to play. My fingers are itching.”
“Fine.”
The cloister is this perfect square surrounded on most sides by gothic arches and a breezeway behind them. The cloister itself has bricked planters set at regular intervals along a central aisle and two large trees at diagonal corners from each other, their branches providing shade for two benches, one at the foot of each tree. Sander and Even go sit under the nearest tree, with the view of the cloister and the large gates at the opposite end. They tune their instruments and begin strumming, just as the gates swing slowly open and the first few visitors stroll in. One of the novices arrives with two large glasses of iced lemonade, setting them on the edge of the nearest planter; she sits enjoying their strumming. Their fingers warmed up, they venture onto one of their more catchy, and usually more rhythmic, songs that they’ve slowed down considerably. They’re softly harmonizing and humming the song, warming up their vocal chords, when the novice stands up with a little jump of glee.
“You’re 4Balls—” she covers her mouth, giggling, “—on fire?” she asks.
“Yes.” Sander replies with a warm, but perplexed smile. “How do you know us?”
“I’ve heard you before. I used to have all your songs.”
“All twenty of them?” Even asks, knowing full well that their discography is very limited.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that against the rules though?” Sander continues, as his left hand move up on the neck of his guitar.
“Well we’re not recluse, although we are secluded.” she replies. “Could I bring my instrument out and play with you?” she asks, catching both Even and Sander by surprise.
“You’re allowed instruments?” Sander asks, a bit stunned when the novice nods shyly.
“I went to the Conservatory in Milano for a number of years.”
“I’m not sure we’re as accomplished as musicians, are you sure you want to play with us? And what instrument?”
“Absolutely!” she replies with conviction, before she takes off running, until one of the nuns crosses her path and eyes her reproachfully.
“I guess it’s going to be a surprise.” Sander comments, a grin on his face.
“I bet it’s a trumpet or a flute.” Even says adjusting his bass to follow Sander’s lead on the guitar.
“I don’t think so.” Sander says, making Even lift his head and see the novice come toward them with a cello and bow in one hand, and a folding chair in the other. She gets herself situated, tunes her cello, tightens her bow, and with a smile asks, “What would you like me to do?”
“Why don’t you harmonize with the bass.” Sander suggests, motioning to Even to show her what he’s doing. She’s a very quick study, and probably has a natural tuning ability, allowing her to find some long notes she inserts in counterpoint to Even’s bass.
“That sounds good. Let’s try this from the top?”
“One, two, three, four.” They tap out the tempo and proceed to play, and hum together the harmony. As they sing, too into the moment of the song, they don’t realize that a few of the visitors walking around the cloister drift over toward the sound of music and take to seating on the edge of the planters. Once the song ends an enthusiastic applause follows.
Suddenly they hear, “Pardon us. Excuse us, Sorry, Pardon.” And as the small crowd that had gathered parts they see an upright piano on wheels being pushed on the stone path by Robbe and Isak under the watchful eyes of the Mother Superior, and two sisters carrying a wooden bench.
“We thought you’d like some company with a bit of keyboards?” Robbe says, out of breath as he stands upright from having pushed the piano. “Sister Irme says ‘she dabbles’ a bit.” he says looking back at Irme, and winking. “Maybe we can add something, four hands?” Robbe suggests. The small crowd claps, encouraging them.
They choose another tune out of their repertoire, try out a few modifications, again slowing the tempo from their usual ‘vivace’, and making the song mellower, making space for the cello and the piano to be inserted. Out of nowhere Isak has found a few buckets which, stuffed with a few rags and turned upside down, provide him with a perfectly good, soft rhythm section for his trusty drumsticks. The song once more is hummed and well received, the words and theme of sexual desire probably not appropriate for where they’re performing, but it does make a flush rise and stay on the cello player’s face. They proceed with playing a few more songs this way, and maintaining a captive audience for a bit longer. Once more their music, however much altered, has resulted in bringing people together, and their playing has brought a little bit of joy and peace to everyone. Wasn’t after all that the whole end goal of being a musician?
“Young men, you were very special. You won everyone over with your music, your talent, and your voices. We had double the amount of visitors we usually have, and we have filled all our storage with all the barters we received in exchange for our fresh vegetables. We are indebted to you. Tell us how we can return the favor, please?" Sister Speranza's voice rises above the group of her sisters. The excitement and joy of the just ended concert is still palpable in the air, and the young men are so euphoric that they have almost forgotten they have to get back on the road to Rome.
“There is something you could do for us,” Sander says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “We need to go back and retrieve Daisy to check if she can continue the journey. We could use a few hands to bring all our belongings down to the van, if you don't mind?”
“Excuse me, but you left a girl alone all night while a storm was raging, and you’re only now checking on her?” Sister Sopravvissuta's eyes widen in surprise, suddenly peering at all of them suspiciously.
“Huh? No, no... absolutely not.” Palms up, Robbe agitates his hands, in an attempt to refute Sister Sopravvissuta's mistaken assumption. “Daisy isn't a girl, we named our van Daisy.” Robbe provides, drawing a breath of relief after Sister Sopravvisuta’s features soften. “We've had a lot of mechanical troubles with her during our trip..”
“In full disclosure we're not even sure if our ‘traveling companion’ will start. She's definitely very tired.” Even adds, shrugging his shoulders and his hands in his pockets.
“I see.” Sister Sopravvissuta says, her face donning once more a broad smile. “Sister Esperta, what do you think? Can we help them?”
“Most definitely, Mother Superior.” Then turning toward Sander she takes control of the moment. “You, follow me. While the rest of you, please go gather all your things and meet us at the bottom of the stairs.”
Sander glances at the other three, lifting his shoulders and looking puzzled. He decides to do as he’s told, crosses his fingers, and follows Sister Esperta, already walking briskly toward a door at the far end of the cloister. Sister Esperta stops in front of the door, takes out a large iron key and ushers him inside a dark and large space. "Wait here." she says, leaving Sander standing at the door they've just come through. He hears her walking, and moving items in the dark, until a whirring, mechanical sound precedes the swinging open of two, large, garage-width doors. The sunlight coming through illuminates Sister Esperta in her wimple from behind, as she's holding an automatic remote control in her hand, and a mischievous grin on her lips, and the top of the line van parked inside.
“But... but where are we? I had no idea there was this... this hidden wonder in your backyard.” Sander says, standing almost speechless, staring wide-eyed at the van parked before him.
Sister Esperta’s grin morphs into a satisfied, gentle smile.
“Oh, Sander, this is one of our most secret, prized possessions. We had this wing of the old build converted years ago, and no one had any idea what we would ever use it for.”
“But this is a Mercedes van! And not just any van, but the latest 8-seater model, with all the extras! It's incredible. How did it end up here?” Sander says, approaching the vehicle, amazed.
“It was donated by the father of one of our sisters. He wanted us to always be able to leave safely, if the need ever arose. This is an earthquake country after all.”
Slowly walking around, Sander runs his fingers over the shiny bodywork of the vehicle. On the outside, it has modern, aerodynamic lines and a sleek, glossy black paint finish. The imposing front grille prominently displays the Mercedes logo, while the dynamic, sophisticated alloy wheels give the vehicle a touch of sportiness and class.
He opens the driver-side door and peeks at the controls, the van still has that new-car smell, he breathes in deeply. "The controls are all so shiny. It's still brand new, isn't it?" he asks.
The nun nods proudly. “Indeed. It has every comfort imaginable. High-quality audio system, heated seats, air conditioning, automatic transmission — everything you need to drive away instantly and feel at home wherever you go.”
“It's incredible.” Sander claps his hands like a child ready to dive into a basket of delicious sweets, while she looks at the vehicle affectionately.
“I still remember the day it arrived. One of our more senior sisters, Sister Felicita, always said that one day we would need a reliable vehicle to provide help wherever it was needed. Even though we are a community of nuns, we are not isolated from the world.” Then without preamble, she asks, “Would you like to drive it?”
Standing with the driver-side door already open, Sander excitedly jumps in, landing on a seat that cushions his landing on hidden hydraulic pistons.
“This is amazing. I can't wait for my band mates to see it!” Sander replies, as he takes in the leather seats and the digital dashboard. I never imagined I'd find something like this in a convent.”
Sister Esperta grins slyly and winks.
“We're nuns, not hermits.” She replies, making both of them burst out laughing.
“Remember, sometimes the most surprising things are where you least expect them; you just have to know where to look.” Sister Esperta quips, making Sander look at her, nodding respectfully and with gratitude.
"How do we get from here to where we left our van?" Sander asks, figuring there must be a different access, one they must've missed in the storm.
"We'll follow this path down toward the valley," Sister Esperta says, gesturing with her hand to the beaten path right outside the garage doors. "This will take us toward the valley, and we'll meet up in the fork in the road you must've missed, that's where the stairs end. I'm sure we'll find everyone waiting for us there." Climbing on the passenger side, she comments:
"You all were lucky and very brave to have climbed that long stairway, without anyone getting hurt. There's a reason why it's been dubbed 'The Stairway to Heaven' since time immemorial." Sister Speranza says joining them.
“In the last few days, we've discovered that we like to complicate our lives. Perhaps, thanks to you, we'll manage to get to our friend's wedding in time.”
“Well then, push the ignition, and let's go pick up your band mates. We'll ask Sister Speranza to come with us, and we’ll accompany you to Rome.” Sister Esperta replies, welcoming Speranza into the van.
They take off slowly down the road arriving at the crossroads.“Here's our girl!” Sander nods. “I wonder if she missed us.” he murmurs wistfully.
Sander pulls up to Daisy, taking pleasure in watching Even, Robbe and Isak stare at the shiny van approaching them. He honks, and leans out the window. “Need a ride?” he asks, as Sister Esperta eyes critically at Daisy.
“I think she just needs a little love and a good repair,” Sister Esperta says, appraising Daisy, then getting out of the van to meet the others. “Let's see if she can still start. I wonder if it will start for me?”
“Poor girl, she's in terrible condition,” Sister Speranza comments affectionately, as she gets out and stands by the guys
“We were in terrible condition last night too, yet you took us in,” Robbe replies, smiling gratefully back at her.
“I think you're right, Daisy deserves a chance.” Sister Esperta says, opening the driver door, gets in, and attempts to start the engine. The van shakes, sputters and finally makes a dull noise before ceasing all sounds.
“Holy cow, where did this marvel come from?” Even asks, stunned and admiring the van Sander just drove.
“A little secret between Sister Esperta and myself.” Sander replies, grinning. “Come on, let’s load everything in the back.”
The four of them get busy transferring their remaining items and their few belongings from Daisy to the back of the new van. After saying goodbye and thanking them for their hospitality, the small group of sisters come to give them a send off. Once loaded, Sister Speranza, Isak, Robbe and Even seat themselves comfortably in the back rows. Sander slowly drives the van, while Sister Esperta, sitting in the passenger seat, gives him directions. With its high suspension and powerful engine, the tortuous road is no contest for this vehicle. The road winds through the trees, descending towards the valley. Sander is at the wheel, while the others look out of the windows enjoying the view.
“It's peaceful here. I'll miss this tranquility,” says Isak, admiring the details of the landscape he watches pass by.
“You can come back and visit us whenever you want, you'll always be welcome in our convent.” Sister Esperta turns to speak to Robbe, lounging in the first row of seats. “Just leave the keys for Daisy with me, and some basic information on where you rented it, and we'll take care of getting it back home safely.”
Robbe nods. “Thank you so much, that's wonderful news. I think we'll all miss Daisy a lot, won't we, guys?”
“Absolutely,” the other three reply in unison. Everything has its value, even an old van like Daisy. Sister Esperta and Sander exchange a knowing glance.
“I can't believe it, we might just make it back to Bergen in time for the wedding.”
Their comments overlap each other, their happiness is uncontainable. This time, there is no need for maps, rolled-down windows, or acrobatic positions to fit their legs into the limited space. Comfort reigns supreme. Yet Daisy is already missed. She has been the vessel for a wonderful and extravagant adventure. One that is not yet over. Ahead of them lie many more hours of travel and many more miles to cover.
“Hold on tight, boys; Rome here we come.”
Bergen
Once landed in Bergen, they had just enough time to run to their hotel, shower, shave, and change into the suits they found hanging in their respective rooms, and jump into the first share-ride that could take them to the venue. As their ride-share approaches Damsgård Manor, they unlatch their doors and jump out before their vehicle comes to a standstill.
“Come on! Guys put some energy into it, we’re late!” Isak exhorts, taking off at a light jog ahead of all the others.
“Fuck off. We’re walking as fast as we can,” the chorus replies, as they follow the signs for the wedding set up in the gardens of Damsgård Manor. They walk fast, the steps crunching on the pebbled pathways. They can hear the first notes of the processional begin to play on string instruments, just as they round the corner onto a central pathway flanked by sculpted hedges, and a nervous Eskild, walking back and forth. He’s dressed in a striking, mid-thigh-long, multi-colored taffeta jacket and dark blue slacks, and a yellow rose boutonniere pinned to his chest.
At the sound of their steps, his head swivels, and a wide smile pulls up the sides of his mouth, relief evident on his face.
“You guys made it!” Eskild says elated, finally taking a full breath, as he walks toward them, his arms spread wide, inviting them into a group hug.
“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Eskild.”