“Lauren,” Jennifer said, coming to take her by the hand while Jamie made coffee, “come and meet some of Mickey and Alice’s old friends from Baltimore.”
“Watch that ‘old’ stuff, Junior, or we’ll tell Jamie stories from when you were thirteen,” said one woman who came forward immediately, extending a hand to Lauren. “Hello, Lauren. I’m Susan.” She reached her other hand out to the woman next to her. “And this is my partner, Christie. We were so sorry to hear about Mickey. I know how much St. Bridget’s meant to her, and how hard it was for her to leave. I was so very glad to hear that she had found someone to love again.”
Susan introduced the others, perhaps six or seven. Lauren lost track of the names.
“Come have some coffee,” Jennifer said, inviting everyone to sit in the living room with a few extra chairs pulled from the dining room.
“The house is beautiful,” Christie said admiringly as she looked around.
“It’s all Michele’s doing,” Lauren replied with a proud smile. “She remodeled the house, with Jamie and Jennifer’s help,” she added as the two of them sat on either side of her. “I wasn’t able to join her until a short time ago.”
“How tragic,” said one of the women whose name Lauren couldn’t recall.
Lauren looked at her. “In what way?”
The woman shifted a little uncomfortably under that intense gaze. “Well, you both gave up everything, as nuns I mean, to be together, and then to only have a couple of months together…”
Lauren’s countenance changed, and it seemed a light emanated from her. “You’re wrong,” she said quietly. “Religious life, and the intimacy of a close relationship with God, can be sublime – so much so that no human love could approach it. I was never fortunate enough to experience that state of grace as a nun. Meeting Michele opened my eyes and my heart to what a real relationship should feel like. For me, I would rather have had one night in her arms, one day basking in the happiness she gave me than a lifetime as I was. The tragedy would have been never to have known her at all.”
Chapter 49
“Hi!” Jennifer said excitedly as Lauren knocked and entered the house. She came over to give her a hug and asked, “When did you get back?”
“Just last night,” Lauren responded. “I’m not interrupting your morning, am I?”
“No,” Jennifer laughed, pouring a cup of coffee for Lauren and joining her at the table. “There’s no such thing as sleeping in anymore.” She tilted her head to one side. “Come to think of it, there’s no such thing as a schedule, either.”
“How is Jamie adjusting?”
Jennifer’s eyes widened as she expressed her surprise. “He has been wonderful. I honestly didn’t know what to expect from him, but he’s been incredible.”
As if on cue, Jamie came downstairs, carrying the baby. His face lit up when he saw Lauren. “Hey, how was the trip?” he asked as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“It was really good,” she answered, accepting the baby from him. “Thank you both for pushing me to go. Susan and Christie were very hospitable. They took me to some of the Baltimore museums, and then we went to D.C. and took in parts of the Corcoran and the National Gallery. It’s overwhelming. I could live there for years, and never get through all the exhibits.” As Lauren talked, the baby’s eyes never left her face. Lauren stared back into eyes that were a lighter blue than Jamie’s, looking at Lauren as if recognizing an old friend.
“Where are they now?” Jennifer asked.
“I left them sleeping at the house.” She smiled. “I tend to forget that the rest of the world doesn’t get up at four thirty.” She looked up at both of them. “I’ll go back to get them and we’ll meet you at the abbey.” She suddenly seemed to remember something, and looked around the house. “Where are your relatives?”
“Mom and Dad rented a vacation house not far away so that we could have some peace and quiet here,” Jennifer explained.
“And they took our mother with them,” Jamie said with a big grin. No one had pointed out to him that he frequently used plural pronouns as if Mickey were still with him.
Later that morning, a caravan of cars drove up to the abbey where the large Worthington family, along with Lauren, Susan and Christie, converged once again upon St. Bridget’s, disrupting the quiet, meditative atmosphere.
Mother Theodora greeted them in the Chapel, explaining the procedure for the day’s ceremony. “We don’t do this too often. In fact,” she corrected herself, laughing, “I don’t believe we’ve ever done this.”
Leaving the grille opened, she returned to her chair at the head of the choir. Within a few minutes the nuns filed in, singing a processional chant. Father Andrew began the Mass, and after the reading of the Gospel, summoned Jennifer, Jamie and Lauren to the altar with the baby.
Mother Theodora held a large silver basin in lieu of a baptismal font, as the abbey did not have a permanent one. Lauren took the baby in her arms as Father Andrew asked, “Who stands with the parents in raising this child as a child of God?”
“I do,” Lauren replied, but her voice was drowned out as nearly the entire community stood and said with her, “I do.”
Father Andrew was clearly not expecting this, nor were Lauren, Jamie and Jennifer. Jennifer grasped Jamie’s arm and pressed her face against his shoulder as he squeezed her hand. Lauren blinked back tears as she turned back to Father Andrew whose eyes were also shining.
“What name has been chosen for this infant?” he asked, his voice cracking a little.
Lauren gazed lovingly down at the small bundle in her arms. “Michele Alice Stewart,” she answered clearly.
“Michele Alice Stewart,” Father Andrew said, sprinkling the baby’s head with holy water as Lauren held her over the basin, “Te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”
The baby didn’t make a sound, but grasped Lauren’s finger tightly and held on as she watched Mother Theodora who stared back, entranced.
Following the Mass was a brief reception during which baby Michele was unquestionably the center of attention. She calmly allowed herself to be passed from nun to nun.
“She’s the most unusual baby I’ve ever seen,” Mother Theodora said to Lauren. “I’m not a believer in reincarnation, but I would have sworn when she was looking at me, that she knew me.”
“I know what you mean,” Lauren smiled. “She’s been like that from the day she was born. I’ve never heard her cry. She seems ancient and wise. When I look into her eyes, she calms me.” She turned to Mother Theodora with a curious expression. “What prompted the community’s response today?”
Mother Theodora sighed with a small smile. “I think it was a combination of things. Most of the members of the community saw this as an opportunity to honor Mickey’s memory, and I think many of us feel a certain sense that we, or I should say St. Bridget’s, served as the epicenter of the events that brought this new life into the world.” She glanced over to where Sister Scholastica, still recovering from her mastectomy, was now holding the baby. “We don’t usually get to experience this.”
Lauren smiled back. “Michele often said the abbey – this small, insignificant spot she called it – felt like the center of the world to her. She was amazed at how many people it had helped to bring together.”
Mother Theodora slipped an arm through Lauren’s and guided her to an empty sofa in the corner of the common room. “I also believe one other reason for the community’s decision to offer our support as the extended family of this baby is that many have guessed where the gift to the abbey came from.” At Lauren’s frown, Mother Theodora hastily added, “I have honored your request of anonymity, but most of the sisters believe it came from Michele or you, or both of you. I confess to being greatly surprised at the tolerance and acceptance I’ve heard expressed. I’m sure that attitude is not universal, but those people are keeping their opinions to themselves. In my early talks with Mickey, one of her biggest concerns about entering was the
fear that she was turning her back on everything she and Alice had worked for in regard to changing people’s fear and bigotry toward gay people.”
Lauren looked down at the floor, blinking rapidly. “She’s been gone for over two months, and she’s still touching people, changing people. Including me.” She took a deep breath. “I think it’s time.”
“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Mother asked, laying a hand on Lauren’s shoulder.
Lauren glanced over to where Jennifer and Jamie were talking with Sister Catherine. She caught Jamie’s eye. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, if I may,” she replied, turning back to Mother Theodora.
She slipped away from the common room, and retrieved a small wooden box she had left in Sister Lucille’s office near the entryway. She moved quietly through the abbey into the enclosure garden and let herself out through the gate. The October sun felt warm on her face as she walked out to the orchard. A cool autumn breeze danced along with her, blowing leaves off trees and swirling them in tiny vortices on the ground. In the orchard, the apple trees stood like ugly gnomes, with their squat trunks and twisted, gnarled limbs, a few apples still clinging to the highest branches.
Lauren walked to the hill where Mickey had found her so long ago. Sitting, she cradled the wooden box in her lap. For a long time, she stared at the box, tracing her finger along the woodgrain of the top. “I know you’re not in here,” she murmured, “I don’t know why this is so hard.”
Suddenly, a warm pocket of air enfolded her, like a warm breath. Inhaling sharply, her entire body felt as if it were wrapped in an embrace more intimate, more erotic, more rapturous than any sensation she had ever experienced, leaving not only her body tingling, but feeling as if it reached all the way to her soul. She had no idea how long she sat there, but slowly the warmth dissipated, and she became aware once again of the normal sensations of the sun’s warmth contrasted by cool air touching her skin.
“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping away tears she hadn’t realized she was crying.
She stood and opened the wooden box, tipping it to let the ashes within float away on the breeze. She walked slowly back to the abbey, still filled with the presence she had felt in the orchard.
When she returned to the common room, Jennifer and Jamie were waiting for her. “Is everything okay?” Jennifer asked, studying Lauren’s face carefully. “You look… are you all right?”
Lauren reached out to take the baby from Jamie’s arms. Even if she’d wanted to, how could she explain what had happened? Little Michele looked at her and broke into a smile. Lauren pressed the baby’s cheek against hers and said, “I will be.”
The End
About the Author
Caren was raised in Ohio, the oldest of four children. Much of her childhood was spent reading Nancy Drew and Black Stallion books, and crafting her own stories. She completed a degree in foreign languages and later another degree in physical therapy where for many years, her only writing was research-based, including a therapeutic exercise textbook. She has lived in Virginia for over twenty years where she practices physical therapy, teaches anatomy and lives with her partner and their canine fur-children. She began writing creatively again several years ago. She is the author of GCLS Award winner Looking Through Windows and Miserere. In This Small Spot is her third novel.
In This Small Spot Page 31