Waiting to Believe

by Sandra Bloom

  “Well, get this straight, Bridg, I’m not still hung up on her. I just thought I’d catch up with her, ya know? I mean—” His voice broke off abruptly.

  They looked at each other, sharing their sadness. Greg reached out and covered Bridget’s hand with his own. “You’ll get her back someday. One way or another. The same old Kacey’s still in there somewhere.”

  Pushing the half-full beer bottle away, he stood. “It’s been great seeing you, kiddo! You look terrific!”

  Bridget rose and reached out to him. “Don’t go yet! Dad’ll be home in a while, and we’ve got a new quarter horse. C’mon down to the barn and meet him!”

  “Nope. Gotta go. Say hi to everyone for me, will ya?”

  “Please wait, Greg! They’ll all want to see you!” But he was already through the kitchen door.

  29

  As Kacey stepped back into her routines at Blessed Sacrament, she struggled with the stark contrast to her unfettered time at camp. The freedom she had experienced at Apple Acres only served now to make her more dissatisfied with the atmosphere of the convent. Walking the dark, lifeless hallways, moving from the chapel to the study to the basement laundry room, her mind drifted back to the smell of pines, the smoke of campfires. She breathed in deeply, trying to recapture the sense of it, but it was gone.

  At least there was the relief of completing the year of religious studies. With the coming of fall, their liberal arts classes would begin again, and Kacey couldn’t wait to get back to the challenging discussions and the occasional laughter from the instructors.

  The wink from Lisa, sitting across the dining hall table at breakfast, gave Kacey a lift. She had missed those quick glimpses she and Lisa had stolen. Now she wondered what message Lisa was trying to convey. She looked at her friend again, and Lisa gave a small nod toward the assignment board on the far wall.

  Kacey hurried through the meal, wondering what assignment was waiting for her. She hoped it would be digging potatoes. Every time her pitchfork gently probed beneath the rich, black soil, it was like unearthing hidden treasure.

  Instead, she was assigned to all-night prayer vigil at the casket of a deceased nun. She knew of these occasional vigils but had never been called on to take part. The only solace was the name listed beside her own: Sister Mary John . . . Lisa.

  There were candles at both ends of the open coffin and others nearby. A dim light in the hallway lit the way out when the vigil came to an end. The rest of the chapel was deep in darkness.

  Kacey sat hunched next to Lisa, directly in front of the coffin, heads bowed, hands folded in prayer. From the damp marble floor, a chill oozed through their bodies, beginning with their feet.

  “This is spooky,” Kacey finally murmured.

  “What’s spooky? You’ve seen dead people before.”

  “I know, but this is different. It’s a big responsibility to pray over a dead nun.”

  “I don’t see it as such a ‘big responsibility,’” Lisa replied. “It’s like all the other things no one else wants to do around here, so they give them to us because we’re the youngest!”

  “You’ve done it before, haven’t you?”

  “Yep, twice. And I’ve been a pallbearer twice.”

  “I haven’t had to do that!”

  “Of course not! You’re too short. They just pick the tall ones for that job. That’d be me.”

  “Well,” Kacey said, “no one told me about these assignments before I signed up!”

  “Oh, come on, Kace! This is no big deal. You’ll get used to it. Watch, I’m going up to the coffin to touch her!”

  Kacey turned to look at Lisa. “Why on earth would you do that? You don’t even know her!”

  “I know her name! Sister Mary Odelia. Old. Old. Old. I think she was a French teacher a zillion years ago. Now she’s dead, and no one really cares, but we’ve got to sit beside her all night and pray for her soul! Wouldn’t you think that was already taken care of?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Kacey groaned.

  “Watch me,” Lisa repeated as she rose and took the few steps to the coffin. She reached down and placed her hand on the hand of the aged woman, frozen in death. The gnarly veined hand was cool, almost slippery in its waxen state. The nun’s rosary was intertwined with her rigid fingers. Her simple gold band, given so many years ago at her final vows, would go with her on her last journey. It was identical to the ones Kacey and Lisa would one day receive. Theirs, too, would stay with them to the end of their lives and beyond.

  Lisa pulled her hand away and was about to shoot Kacey a grin, but couldn’t follow through. This will be me someday . . .she thought. Stepping back to the pew, she sank down next to Kacey and began to pray. “God of pardon and mercy, we humbly pray for the soul of your servant, Mary Odelia. . . .”

  30

  “You!” The flamboyant nun pointed at Kacey. “Are a lamb.” Then her exaggerated tone dropped and came out as a hiss. “Being led to the slaughter!”

  Kacey’s eyes widened. Her body froze. Sister Mary Boniface strode toward her with giant steps, stopping just short of Kacey’s chair in the front row. “This is a drama class, Sister Mary Laurence. This is a session on improvisation. And you are a lamb, being led to the slaughter. Can you feel it?” She paused before sweeping her arms in a grand gesture. “Come, come, come, if you will, please. Show us.”

  As Kacey stood to follow the bewildering command, the bell rang, ending the class. Kacey’s relief was indescribable. She gave Sister Boniface a weak smile and turned to leave, but the sister was not done with her.

  “Not so fast.” The olive-skinned nun was tall, lithe, quick moving. Her brows formed a black band across her forehead, which moved up and down as she spoke to the class. Kacey often watched them in fascination.

  “Yes, Sister.” Kacey’s stomach tightened.

  “Sister Mary Laurence, I don’t believe you are entering into my class as fully as I would have expected.” The brows were drawn into a frown.

  “I’m sorry if I’m not meeting your expectations, Sister. I do like the class, but it’s a little hard for me at times.”

  “Hard?”

  “Well, I—I’m sort of shy, and I hadn’t really expected to be studying drama and—”

  Mary Boniface drew herself up to her full height and leaned against her desk. “What makes you think you had a right to expect anything, Sister?”

  The intensity of the nun’s words sucked the breath from Kacey. “I apologize, Sister Mary Boniface. It’s just that I’m not very good at drama and—”

  Mary Boniface interrupted Kacey again, folding her arms across her chest, a small smile on her face. “I disagree. You are good at it. Shy? Nonsense! You have a sprightly spirit! Too sprightly at times. Use that enthusiasm, that energy here. In this class. This is an outlet for you!”

  “Yes, Sister. I’ll try.”

  “This won’t be the only drama class you’ll take, you know. Your high school reputation has followed you. It’s been suggested that you be assigned to teach drama after final vows.” The brows lifted and remained in an inquiring position as the nun riveted Kacey with her eyes.

  Kacey paled. She can’t be serious!

  Their eyes locked, neither moved. “Yes, Sister Boniface. I’ll do my best.”

  The eyebrows lowered, and the calculated smile returned. “‘To be, or not to be, that is the question’—is it not, Sister Mary Laurence?” Without waiting for an answer, the nun swept past Kacey and left the room, her habit swirling to catch up with her as she moved down the hall.

  “We need a fourth for whist!” Adrian called to Kacey. Mary Callistus and Lisa were seated at the table with Adrian. Kacey slipped into the empty chair with little enthusiasm.

  “Why the long face?” Callistus asked as Lisa shuffled the cards. In the background, Eddy Arnold’s voice began the opening yodel of his h
it song, “Cattle Call.” It was a favorite among the sisters, many of whom discreetly mouthed the words as he sang, “The cattle are prowlin’, the coyotes are howlin’ . . .” Lisa had joined in, singing with more gusto than seemed acceptable.

  “Shh!” Callistus admonished. “You’ll get us split up again.”

  But Adrian’s gaze remained fixed on Kacey. She had a tender spot for the young postulant whom she had befriended that first night. She’d watched thoughtfully through Kacey’s times of upset and frustration. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s brown as a berry from riding the prairie . . .” Eddy’s song continued without Lisa’s harmony. The table fell silent, waiting on Kacey.

  “I don’t know why it’s troubling me so much,” Kacey responded, “but I heard from Boniface this afternoon that I’ve been earmarked to teach drama after final vows.”

  “Drama?” Lisa’s surprise was evident.

  “Yeah. I mean, I had fun with it in high school, and I like this class—well, not improv. But to spend my life teaching drama? That’s not why I entered the community!”

  Lisa dealt the cards. All four picked up their hands and held them without looking at them.

  “Well, you don’t know you’d be doing it for life.” Mary Adrian tried to mollify Kacey. “It could lead to other things.”

  “Right,” Kacey said sarcastically. “Who knows, from there I could move on to teaching penmanship to postulants!” She laid her cards down and pushed back her chair. “I’m not up for this tonight.”

  “Psst. You’re heading in the wrong direction.” Lisa whispered as Kacey turned toward the staircase of Old Main. She and Lisa had just finished their World History class and were scheduled for “English Poets of the 18th Century.” Black clad sisters scurried silently past them.

  “Gotta go to the dentist.” Kacey whispered back, “Believe me, I’d rather spend time with the poets.”

  “Again? You’ve been going a lot!”

  Kacey glanced down the hallway to make certain they weren’t being seen or heard. “You’re telling me!” she said, “And it’s no fun! Do you know we can’t have Novocain?”

  “What?” Lisa’s startled response came out louder than she intended.

  “We’re supposed to ‘offer it up.’” There was no denying the scorn in Kacey’s voice. “I think that’s going a little too far! Why should we accept unnecessary pain? How’s that glorify God?”

  “Maybe it’s just you,” Lisa speculated, “since you always think they’re trying to break your spirit.”

  Kacey shook her head. “Nope! Just wait till it’s your turn. You’ll be told to ‘offer it up,’ too.”

  Lisa shuddered at the thought as Kacey kept on talking. “It’s costing a lot, too. I think they called Dad to get him to pay.”

  “No fair!” Lisa said but her mind was still on the lack of Novocain.

  Sister Mary Helena was seated at the wheel of the 1959 Chevrolet Bel Air which gave testament to its ownership: Black. Practical. Meticulous. Devoid of personality. The chubby old nun offered no greeting as Kacey climbed in beside her. Pulling away from the curb, she asked, “How long will it be?”

  “An hour, I suppose. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  The car lurched forward. Kacey glanced over at the driver who sat with her hands precisely at 10 and 2. As she pulled into the lane of traffic, Kacey glanced again, this time at the speedometer. Twenty six miles per hour. Kacey’s nerves were on edge. She wished for the distraction of a radio, a luxury not found in a convent vehicle. But what she wanted most of all was to shout, “Step on it! You drive like an old nun!” A fantasy, of course.

  Moving from the car to the dental office, Kacey felt the first bite of winter. Inside, the waiting room held only a few, all in brightly colored bulky sweaters and heavy coats. Her gaze scanned the room until it rested on the back of a coat she recognized.

  “Mom?”

  The herringbone clothed figure turned, her arms stretched out to the bewildered novice. “Kacey! I’m so happy to see you!” Rose reached to kiss her daughter’s cheek, folding her arms tightly around Kacey but Kacey stepped back from the embrace.

  “What are you doing here? How’d you know I’d be here?”

  “Oh, honey, I wanted so badly to see you!” Sadness etched Rose’s face.

  “How’d you know I’d be here, Mom?” Kacey asked again.

  “Oh, the major superior or the mother general or someone called. They want your father to pay so I just asked what dentist you –”

  “You can’t do this!” Kacey interrupted. “You can’t come looking for me!” Her voice was ragged, her cheeks flushed.

  “Ahh, where’s the harm? Is it so terrible a mother wants to see her child?” Once again she stepped closer to Kacey but Kacey held her at arm’s length.

  “You know the rules, Mom. This isn’t allowed!”

  “Kacey, I need to see you!”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way but –”

  Rose’s hand shot up like a stop sign. “No! You’ve got that wrong! You shouldn’t be sorry I feel this way. You should be sorry you’ve cut yourself off from me. From your whole family!”

  “I can’t have this conversation. You’ve gotta go!”

  Aware of the waiting patients watching the exchange through diverted glances, Kacey was embarrassed, but Rose was unfazed. They stood frozen, looking into one another’s face. Finally, Kacey’s tone softened as she repeated, “You have to go, Mom.”

  Rose reached out to touch Kacey’s sleeve but Kacey pulled away. “Mom,” she said, her voice now choked with tenderness. Inside her head the battle raged. Pain roiled in her stomach. She knew she could not yield.

  Rose’s shoulders slumped as she gave up and turned toward the door.

  Kacey struggled to take a deep breath as she watched her mother leave. She walks like an old woman..

  Sister Mary Laurence!” came the call as Kacey was leaving the college library. Sister Mary Boniface hurried toward her on the icy sidewalk. “I’m glad I caught you! I’ve got good news!”

  Kacey frowned. What good news could come from Sister Boniface? They stood face to face in the cold.

  “Despite your initial apprehensions, you’ve done very well in my class. I’m pleased with your work.” A pause. “Well, your improv could still use some work.”

  “Thank you, Sister,” Kacey interjected.

  “It was obvious to me that you’d had experience in theater, and in spite of what you say, you’ve got a knack for it.”

  “Thank you, Sister.”

  “And so,” Sister Mary Boniface put on her most cheerful face, “I have decided to give you a significant assignment. I’m putting you in charge of our spring play!”

  “No!” The word flew from Kacey’s mouth before she could stop it.

  “Yes!” came the reply. “No need to thank me. I’ve thought about this a great deal. You are the most qualified.”

  Kacey shivered. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Sister Mary Boniface was oblivious. Her smile did not falter. “You’ve heard of The Sound of Music? Lovely story. Lovely! You will direct it!”

  Kacey’s fingers flew to her mouth. The stinging cold rushed through her, and yet her face flamed. “Sister Boniface, I don’t think—”

  “Nonsense! Of course you can! I will prepare you every step of the way. We begin immediately.” She clapped her hands in delight. “This will be a grand experience for you!”

  “Yes, Sister.”

  “Be at my office at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. No time to waste! Go in peace!” The nun turned from Kacey and sailed off down the icy sidewalk with the cold wind propelling her.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Lisa stared at Kacey in astonishment.

  “No, really! Boniface has finally convinced me I can do this! I could
n’t believe it at first, either, but I’ve changed my mind.” Kacey pushed back her chair. “But here’s my biggest hurdle: I’ve been wracking my brain to come up with enough sisters to fill out the cast. I mean, how many potential actresses enter the community?”

  In the background, Johnny Cash sang, “As I walked out on the streets of Laredo . . .” Kacey and Lisa sat in front of the new jigsaw puzzle: a thousand pieces of Notre Dame as seen from the River Seine. The picture was daunting. Lisa searched for edge pieces, while Kacey tried to fit shapes and colors together. Always an irritation to Lisa. She held up a corner piece. “Here. Let’s start at the bottom, shall we?”

  “Oh, Lisa, no matter how your family did it, there really are no rules for jigsaw puzzles!”

  Lisa gave up. “Okay, okay. So tell me more about your hurdle.”

  “Well, this could be where you come in. I think you should try out for the part of Maria.”

  “You’re crazy! I can’t sing!”

  “I’ve heard you in matins and vespers. You sing well enough.”

  “Absolutely not! I’ll cheer you on from afar!”

  “Aw, Lisa . . .”

  “Nope!”

  Before Kacey could respond, Sister Mary Clotilda shuffled over and joined them while Johnny sang on, “I spied a poor cowboy wrapped in white linen. Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay . . .” The tall, stooped newcomer looked over her wire-rimmed glasses at Kacey. Her craggy face had a brightness to it. A gentleness. “I understand you’re directing The Sound of Music, Sister Mary Laurence.”

  Kacey didn’t believe they had ever spoken. “Yes, Sister. I am.”

  “Well, I’m thinking of trying out for the part of Mother Superior. I’ve never admitted this to anyone, but,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “I’ve always wanted to be a mother superior. This might be my only chance.”

  31

  Kacey threw herself into her work with the young sisters who became actresses and singers under her direction. It seemed comical in the beginning, but as rehearsals progressed, inhibitions fell away. Kacey and her little troupe grew enthusiastic, even confident.