Waiting to Believe

by Sandra Bloom

“Never heard of them, either!” Kacey laughed at her own ignorance. She had grown up with the Everly Brothers, Buddy Holly, Chubby Checkers and “The Twist.”

  “Where in the world have you been?” Cindy’s hands immediately flew to her reddening cheeks as she realized her gaff.

  “It’s okay. I appreciate your trying to educate me. I’m still back in the Dark Ages!” Melancholy swept over Kacey as she realized once again how far removed she was from the heartbeat of her times. It should not have mattered, but it did. At least it mattered today.

  She turned toward the door. “Can you believe it? Now I can’t remember what I came for! I’ll catch you later!” She moved to escape, but not before glimpsing herself in the mirror above the dresser. She had avoided all mirrors since camp began, but this one caught her by surprise. For the first time in two years, she really saw herself. She wasn’t prepared for the image staring back at her. Her skin was paler than she remembered. But perhaps most startling was the emptiness she saw in her eyes. Who are you? she wanted to cry out. You’re more of a mystery to me than the Rolling Stones or the Beatles.

  26

  Mickey clung to Kacey’s arm as they made their way toward the lake. Walking was difficult for the ten-year-old. Her legs would not do what she wanted them to do, and her limited mental abilities added to life’s frustrations. But she knew one thing for certain: she loved “Sister Mary Larry.”

  “Will you come in the water with me, Sister?”

  Kacey laughed, both at the thought of such a delight and the impossibility of it. Her tenderness toward Mickey overflowed as she turned the child’s face up to hers. “Oh no, Mickey. I can’t, but your counselors will be in the water—and the other campers. You don’t need me for this.”

  Mickey’s face screwed up into a mask of displeasure. “But it’s you I want! Please splash with me! Please!”

  Kacey disengaged herself from the child’s clutches and started down the path again. “Nope! No splashing for me, but I’ll be on the shore watching you.”

  Mickey stopped again and began to wail.

  “C’mon now, Sweetie Pie! We’re falling behind!” Kacey stood at the water’s edge. She took off her heavy shoes and her knee-high wool stockings, and when she thought no one was looking, she dipped one foot into the cool water. Then the other. Delicious.

  Before they were ready, the six little splashers were herded out of the water into waiting towels. In the distance, thunder growled. Looking to the north, Kacey saw the steel-gray clouds of an approaching storm just as she heard the tremolo call of the loons from across the lake. Their distress call. She put on her socks, pushed into her shoes, and hurried to catch up with the procession heading back to the cabins.

  The clouds billowed now, erasing the sky. The leaves on the oaks and the birches began their own shimmering dance. Kacey stopped abruptly, looking back to the beach. How long has it been since I felt rain on my face? She turned and walked back to the lake, then onto the wooden dock.

  From up the path, Cindy called to her. “Sister Larry! C’mon! It’s gonna pour!” Kacey turned and waved her off. She sat down on the rough boards, once again pulling off her shoes and socks. Then, lifting the hem of her heavy habit, she let her feet dangle in the water below. Settling herself, she leaned back on her outstretched arms and waited for the storm.

  Within minutes, lightning ripped across the sky. Thunder followed with its ground-shaking echo. It was not safe to remain on the dock. She should flee to the cabins.

  The rain came, spitting at first and then in earnest. Still, she sat. The rain rolled from her veiled head, streamlets finding their way under the tight scapular beneath her chin. She fought the urge to pull off the veil, to free her head to receive the sacrament of rain. The heavy wool of her habit soaked through. She felt the pelting through the layers.

  No harm will come to me this day.

  One morning, Kacey returned to Oak Alley with a borrowed songbook. She often found reasons to enter the counselors’ cabin during the afternoon rest period, sitting in the middle of one of their beds, getting caught up in the teenage give-and-take.

  They wanted to know about her life before the convent. And she told them. Only the good parts, of course. The simplest parts. Mostly about Two Spot and the journeys they had taken. About playing Becky Thatcher in the senior class play. Being captain of her broomball team, the De-Icers.

  She was breaking her vows in speaking of her life to these girls, and she was disappointed in herself. Yet she could not stop. She longed to be known as a person.

  She was quick-witted and sometimes a touch irreverent. She loved the life the teenagers exuded, and they loved the glimpses she allowed them into her own life. Cindy and Sue were both sixteen. Lois and Becky, seventeen. All of them tried to guess her age. At nineteen, Kacey had lived a lifetime beyond them.

  “Hey, Sister Laurence!” Patsy Mason trotted to catch up with Kacey. The camp director’s blonde pixie cut framed her face and gave her a happy look. She wore red, blue, and yellow madras plaid shorts and a tank top with the camp logo emblazoned in red across the front. Her deeply bronzed arms were both slender and muscled.

  Kacey smiled as Patsy approached. “Call me Larry! Everyone else does.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to be irreverent!” Patsy laughed. “Though what I’d actually like to call you is your real name! I’m sure you’ve got one!” She fell in step with Kacey.

  “Mary Laurence is my real name now—and forever. We’d better just stick with it!”

  “Well, okay, Mary Larry Laurence! I can play by the rules. Anyway, here’s my question: I’ve got tomorrow afternoon off, and I was wondering if you could pull free for a couple hours for a game of tennis. We’ve got a nice little court.”

  “Oh, Patsy! I’d love to, but I’m afraid my tennis-playing days are over! Can you imagine me running across a court in this outfit?” She laughed, but she was disappointed at needing to say no.

  “Well, I just thought . . .the court’s about a quarter mile away. You know, pretty isolated. I just thought maybe you could change into something else for a quick game. No one would see you.”

  “Afraid not. I’d love to, really, but I couldn’t do that. Even I couldn’t do that!” She laughed a little nervously.

  They walked side by side on the narrow path. Patsy fell silent for a moment, then, “I guess I don’t get some of the finer points of being a nun. I just thought it would be fun to get away a little and then have some time to talk afterward. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize! I’d love to do both!”

  They reached the craft cabin but sat down on the swing overlooking the lake. Kacey searched the water for the pair of loons calling to one another.

  “I’ve known quite a few nuns,” Patsy began. “I went to Immaculate Conception High in Minneapolis—isn’t that some name for a high school?” She paused, trying to give voice to her thoughts. “You’re not a typical nun. I mean, there’s a spark in you. A little streak of something. Maybe something rebellious.” She turned to face Kacey, who continued to look out at the water.

  “I’m not sure what you’ve seen. Maybe there is a little streak of something, but I’m really very serious, very committed to this life I’ve chosen.”

  “Well, maybe we could talk about it someday. I’d like to know more about it. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  Kacey’s smile was gentle. “No, you haven’t. I shouldn’t admit it, but I feel like you’ve complimented me!”

  “Oh, good!” Patsy jumped up from the swing, reaching out her hand to pull Kacey up, too. “Let’s get to work now, and maybe you’ll feel like having coffee later. Full habit and all!”

  “It’s a deal!” Kacey called as she headed toward the cabin. Patsy left Kacey to ponder the exchange.

  The summer session was winding down, and Kacey was reluctant to let it go. Her weeks at the camp
had been vibrant, full of life. The campers loved her. The counselors, as well. She continued to struggle to maintain the proper demeanor in the presence of their unabashed adoration, while drinking it in to feed her soul.

  And though they never played tennis, she and Patsy carved out many moments when they sat drinking coffee or walking the narrow trails throughout the camp. Always talking. She would miss those times. She would miss Patsy.

  27

  The bouquet was large and wild: bellflowers, daisies, blue flag iris, fireweed, and wild parsnip. Cindy carried it into the dining hall, followed by the other five counselors. Spotting Kacey sitting with Patsy, they marched solemnly up to Kacey and formed a semicircle around her. Cindy thrust the bouquet at her. “Here,” she said, “for you.”

  Kacey looked at them in amazement. “I’m speechless!” she confessed.

  “Well, we just wanted to let you know how much we’ve appreciated you, sort of a thank-you for everything,” Lois added. The others joined in, mumbling words of thanks.

  It was the last day of camp. Kacey would be walking out of their lives this afternoon, probably never to see them again. They were each reluctant to let her go, but what they could not have imagined was that Kacey felt the same about them.

  “You’ve really made an impression!” Patsy declared.

  “Oh, I feel like I should be the one handing out flowers!” Kacey replied. “You kids have been great! Really, I mean it. I’ve learned so much from you!”

  Patsy took the flowers from Kacey. “Let me put them in water,” she said as she headed toward the kitchen.

  Lois stepped forward impulsively, bending down to throw her arms around Kacey’s neck. “I’ll miss you, Mary Larry,” she said softly.

  Kacey welcomed the embrace and returned it. One by one, the girls said their private good-byes and then filed out the door, sniffling as they went.

  Patsy returned, carrying the bouquet in a large orange juice bottle. “You’ve got quite a fan club there!” she declared, pouring more coffee into their cups.

  Kacey looked wistful. “Oh, Patsy, I loved being around them! I had almost forgotten what it was like to be sixteen and carefree!”

  Watching Kacey over the rim of her cup, Patsy said, “I don’t imagine you were much older when you were deciding to enter the convent.”

  “I was seventeen when I entered . . .” Kacey replied. Her voice trailed off.

  “Well, did it occur to you to try to recruit any of these groupies while you had the chance?”

  Kacey’s eyes widened. “Oh, gosh, no! I’m not a recruiter!”

  “Why not?” Patsy countered. “If you’re sold on the life, why wouldn’t you want others to follow?”

  Kacey was flustered. “Well, I don’t know. It would be a huge responsibility to try to influence anyone like that. I couldn’t do it.”

  “What about me?” Patsy asked. “After all our talks, didn’t it ever occur to you that I might be ripe for the picking?” She gave Kacey a sly look.

  “Patsy! Of course not! What would make you ask such a thing?”

  Patsy placed her elbows on the table, lifting her coffee cup to rest against her chin. “Well, I think I’d be a fairly attractive prospect.”

  “Are you teasing?” Kacey asked.

  “No! No, I’m serious. I’ve really been thinking about this. When I told you about changing my major three times and not knowing what to do with my life, I sort of expected you to raise the possibility of becoming a nun.”

  Kacey’s voice was steady. “Wow! I can’t think of a more important decision you could make. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s gotta come from inside you!” She paused. Then, “Sometimes I’m not even sure why I made the choice. How could I try to influence anyone else?”

  “But isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? I mean, I like what you stand for. Your life is appealing to me, so I—”

  Kacey cut her off. “Look way inside yourself, Patsy. Don’t look to others. If it’s right for you, you’ll know it by the nagging inside.”

  Their eyes met. There was so much more to say and yet nothing to say. They sat in silence. Abruptly, Patsy pushed the bouquet across the table toward Kacey and stood up. She smiled tenderly. “How you gonna explain your wildflowers when you get ‘home’ tonight, Sister Mary Larry?”

  Wistful, Kacey watched for the old blue bus. The others were still saying their good-byes to the staff, but Kacey had said all the good-byes she could. She knew there came a moment when she had to give herself up to reality. It had been glorious, but it was over.

  She sat on a small bench, holding the bouquet in her lap. She didn’t know what to do with it. Leaving it behind would have been hurtful to the counselors, and in her own heart, she was reluctant to give it up. It was still perky. Full of life. It seemed to symbolize all that she had risked, all that was exciting in these past weeks. Still, she knew she could not carry it into the convent.

  Reaching into the center of the overflowing bouquet, she pulled out a long stem of magenta fireweed. No, she thought, it’s too big. She pulled flower after flower from the jar, holding it, then laying it aside. Finally, it was a white daisy, small but sturdy, that she lifted to her lips and held there, closing her eyes.

  She scooped up the other flowers and walked deeper into the woods behind the bench. One by one, she reverently placed the flowers—one on a rock, one on a branch of a fir tree, one in the crook of a gnarled oak, another in a small animal hole—until they were strewn all around. Celebrated and loved, but unseen by others.

  She hurried back to the bench and snatched up the daisy. That daisy was going back to Blessed Sacrament with her.

  Somber and silent, the other novices approached. Then Kacey heard the chugging of the engine as the blue bus rumbled around the last curve, heading for the camp gate.

  Sister Helena was rolling to a stop as Patsy pushed through the door of the administration building. She raced down the path toward Kacey, urgency in her face. “Sister Larry!”

  Puzzled, Kacey hung back as the others climbed into the bus.

  “What is it, Patsy?”

  “I—I just thought you’d want to know: the Twins took a double-header from the White Sox this afternoon. It lifts them out of seventh place and into sixth.”

  Breaking all her rules, Kacey put a hand to Patsy’s cheek and held it there for just a moment. She could not speak. Turning, she climbed up into the bus, the daisy clasped tightly in her left hand. Sister Helena swung the door closed, let out the clutch, and started down the road.

  28

  Greg shifted his weight uneasily. He knocked a second time on the Doyle kitchen door. Leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed against his chest, he waited. There was a time, he remembered, when all he needed to do was give a tap and enter without waiting for an invitation.

  Drawing up his courage, he opened the door and stepped in. “Anybody home?” The vacuum cleaner in the living room went silent, but the beat of the Rolling Stones still filled every corner.

  “Greg!” Bridget ran to him, wrapping him in an enthusiastic embrace.

  “Wow!” he replied. Taking her hands, he studied her. She laughed and pirouetted. “Bridget!” he declared. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman!”

  Bridget flushed. “Oh, Greg, you’re just saying that ’cuz everyone says I look more and more like Kacey!”

  He took a step backward, sizing her up. “Well, okay, I can see that. But believe me, you’ve got your own star quality!”

  “Let me turn down the music,” she shouted, “then tell me everything!”

  Crossing to the refrigerator, Greg took out a bottle of Grain Belt. He popped the cap and took a swallow of the icy beer, easing into a kitchen chair.

  Bridget was quick to return. “You haven’t been home all summer, have you?”

  Greg took another deep
pull on the beer, shaking his head. “No, just got in this week. Only for a few days. My dad’s been sick, so I thought I’d give him a cheer-up visit before classes start again.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope.” Bridget sat down at the table.

  “He’ll be okay. His ulcers. It was a good excuse to take off from my summer job and get back to the good life in Minnesota.” He grinned at Bridget. “No walleyes around South Bend. Can you imagine that?”

  Bridget smiled, unsure of herself alone in Greg’s presence. “Well, that would put a dent in a guy’s life.” Standing up, she headed for the refrigerator and took a Grain Belt for herself.

  Greg watched her, raising an eyebrow. “Whoa!”

  She opened the bottle, her eyes never leaving his face. “I’m seventeen now,” she replied somewhat testily. “You’ve been away a long time.”

  “Right,” he said softly. “Right.” His eyes swept around the kitchen, then through the doorway to the living room. “Anyone else home?”

  “Just Mom, somewhere.” There was an edge in her voice. “Dad’s at work, of course. Gerald took Joey fishing with him, and Maureen’s just plain off.”

  He took another swig from the cold bottle. “Oh yeah? I thought I heard someone say they’d seen Kacey. At the golf course.”

  “Kacey? Are you kidding? Six more months before she can come home for a visit! Who in the world told you that?”

  His face fell. “Oh, I don’t remember. I must have heard it wrong. I just thought I’d stop by and check it out.”

  Bridget leaned forward. “It’s been two years, but you’re still hung up on her!”

  He said nothing. Bridget’s eyes did not leave his face. “Oh, Greg, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a smart aleck. We all keep hoping she’ll come back, but nothing so far. I can’t imagine she’s happy, but how would we know? It’s like she’s a member of the living dead.”