At least these were questions Madeleine had encountered many times before, especially while teaching high school students. “Some people take every word of Scripture literally, but I never advocated for that—nor did my order. Scripture is inerrant in spiritual truth, not scientific fact. We should see it as inspired by God, but written by men.”

Hæra blinked. “No women?”

“Nope,” Madeleine said dryly. “Although there are female saints and scholars. Honestly, Catholics don’t spend as much time on the Bible as you’d think.”

Hæra frowned. “You don’t?”

“No. We’ve got the Catechism, the lives of the saints, Augustine’s Confessions, and so much⁠—”

“But the Bible’s all I’ve read!” Hæra flung herself back in the seat, looking as incredulous as Madeleine felt. “You’re telling me there’s more?”

It was so absurd, so out of left field, that Madeleine laughed. “Yes, a lot more. It can answer some of those questions you’re asking.”

Hæra scowled. “I don’t want other books to answer my questions. I want to ask you. It took me years to read that stupid thing.”

Now that was really rude. Madeleine lifted her chin and kept her voice cool. “Tell you what. I won’t call a trow a ‘monster’ if you don’t insult something sacred to me.”

Hæra pursed her lips and looked away. The wind whipped at her ponytail, teasing loose, dark tendrils of hair around her pale face and sharp cheekbones. “Very well. I’m sorry.”

Madeleine stared at her. Madeleine shouldn’t stare at her. Was she really sitting here talking about her faith when she couldn’t resist thoughts that ran so counter to it? What right did she have to get on her high horse when last night, she’d dreamed about Hæra taking her in her arms and…

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I do have doubts from time to time.”

The low, shaky note in Madeleine’s voice brought Hæra out of the sulk she’d just fallen into. To think she’d spent years making her way through that horribly long, strange book, only to learn it didn’t even matter that much!

But it was hard to sulk when Madeleine was biting her bottom lip. Ordinarily, that would have occupied Hæra’s full attention, if not for the distress that accompanied the gesture. It was time to say something kind and understanding.

“Of course you have doubts,” she said. “Those stories don’t make any sense.”

“No, not about that,” Madeleine said, her voice still low. She wasn’t making eye contact with Hæra anymore. “I told you, they’re not all to be taken literally. Never mind. Let’s keep looking at the farm.”