Waiting to Believe

by Sandra Bloom

  She felt heady as she ran to her room. Grabbing her coin purse from the dresser, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. There was a faint blush in her cheeks. She smiled back at her reflection. Forgive me, God, but I really am going out for pizza with the girls!

  Weeks later, Kacey lifted a paper napkin from her dresser drawer. It had a smudge of pizza sauce on it, just above the name “Vescio’s.” She had tucked it away later that night after returning to the dorm, invigorated and engaged. Happy. The friendship with her three bell-bottomed, bead-wearing classmates carried her through the summer session.

  She relished evenings spent in their dorm rooms, talking over assignments and debating the latest happenings on Peyton Place.

  Packing her small suitcase on that last morning, she held the Vescio’s napkin, cherishing all it had come to signify. Then she dropped it in the wastebasket and turned back to packing. Good-bye, U of M.

  Four years into her religious journey, she was still unsure of the future. Did this summer session assure that she would teach drama? It would seem so, but she had not yet been told. Perhaps that was what most rankled her. Not so much what she would do, but that it would never be her choice.

  She remembered a religion class from her childhood on missionary sisters. She had been an impressionable eleven-year-old who suddenly became terrified that God would call her to be a missionary. She walked home from church with her friend Lucy, stopping at the edge of Empire Pond. Picking up a smooth, flat stone, she sent it sailing with a flick of her wrist. Three, four, five skips. “I’m gonna pray real hard that God won’t make me be a missionary. I’d hate it!”

  Lucy giggled. “Fat chance God would want you for a missionary!”

  “Well,” Kacey replied, “I’m not taking any chances. I’m really gonna pray about it!”

  Now she slipped the last of her textbooks into a canvas bag, smiling at the long-ago memory. So far, so good. Teaching drama would, at least, be a far cry from being a missionary.

  41

  Kacey’s eyes swept down the long dinner table. There were new faces since she last sat here. Her on-the-fly meals in the student union or the dorm cafeteria already seemed a distant memory, though she had only returned to Blessed Sacrament that afternoon. It was going to be a difficult adjustment, she knew, settling back into the constrained routine of convent life.

  She took the steaming bowl of Hungarian goulash and scooped a serving onto her plate before passing it. Kacey looked across the table, down two seats, to where Mary Adrian had sat for four years. A fresh-faced young woman occupied the space, one of the postulants who had arrived last week, just as Adrian’s class was leaving for their year of teaching.

  The sight of the eager, red-cheeked newcomer sitting at Adrian’s place created an emptiness in Kacey. Her gaze continued down the table, stopping at Lisa, who was watching her intently. Lisa lifted her fork in a mock salute and winked. Thank God for Lisa!

  What most often saved Kacey were her studies. On a sunny September day, she stood with two textbooks in her arms, ready to settle into the library for the afternoon. The smell of pies baking in the kitchen drifted through the hallway. Robins sang, cardinals chattered. She had to be outside! On a wide porch swing, she opened the first of the books. She was in her last year of college studies, with two fascinating courses: “The Mirror to Nature: Exploring Diversity Through Drama” and “The Bible as Literature.”

  She loved being a student. It was hard to imagine that in less than a year, she would be the teacher. Flipping open her notebook, she began writing her term paper: “The Bible stands at the foundation of our civilization . . .” Smiling, she lifted her pen. Oh, she thought, this is going to be great!

  Late afternoon shadows fell across Kacey’s notebook. She hadn’t realized how long she had been writing, scratching out, and writing again. Finally, she closed her books and stretched.

  The smell of pies had given way to the smell of chickens roasting. Supper in an hour. All in all, it had been a good day. She closed her eyes, and the words to a familiar prayer filled her:

  Almighty God, I thank you for your past blessings. I offer myself—whatever I do, say, or think—to your loving care.

  But she could not keep from adding, Oh, God, don’t desert me now.

  After a slow, sweet fall, winter began creeping around the corners. Kacey’s Sunday was brightened by a note from Joey.

  Dear Kacey.

  How are you? I’m ok. I’m sorry you won’t be home for Christmas again. Things around here are the same except your not here. I still don’t like it that your gone. And I still don’t get why you did that. Will you ever come home again? Well, merry xmas.

  Your brother, Joe

  She sat on the end of her bed, clutching the note, reading it over again, examining each scrawl. Joseph of the many questions was fifteen. Wistfully, she remembered some of their exchanges over the years. Kacey was the one he trusted. The one he came to with his curiosity and his fears. She had loved answering his questions, no matter how farfetched or unanswerable. Do cowboys cut their fingernails? Why is a charley horse called a charley horse? But this question—Will you ever come home again?—this question was the hardest one of all.

  Letters from home continued to be rare. She had long ago given up expectations, and now when one did arrive, she felt a twinge of apprehension. Is someone sick? Is there trouble?

  Occasionally, Bridget sent a note along with a program for a play she had seen. She was enjoying her classes at the U, and from a few cryptic references, Kacey knew she was still writing to Greg.

  The family was scattering. Was it possible? Only Joseph and seventeen-year-old Gerald remained at home. Kacey had no idea what Gerald’s plans were after he graduated in June.

  Maureen had graduated from high school last June with very little fanfare. Kacey had not received an invitation. She knew Maureen enrolled at the U and got an apartment in Dinkytown, but there had no been word from her since.

  Annie had graduated from Lourdes College the previous spring, moved in briefly with Dean Knutson, her silent Norwegian, then decided his silence was too great, and had moved out.

  Christmas came. Christmas went. It mattered little to Kacey. But in January, she was surprised to receive a letter with a Boston return address.

  Dear Kacey.

  Sorry so much time has gone by since I wrote. I’m not sure if you even know I’m teaching eighth-grade English in an inner-city school here in Boston. The hardest thing I’ve ever done. The best thing that’s happened this year has been going into NYC to see some shows—Death of a Salesman and Angela Lansbury in Mame. But here’s my reason for writing. I want to fly home some weekend soon to see you. I don’t want the folks to know, tho, so can you keep it under your hat? Write back and let me know. I’m assuming I could see you alone. If not, I won’t come. Either way, I need to hear from you ASAP.

  Love, Annie

  Kacey frowned.

  “Sister Mary Laurence? Sister Mary Julian would like to see you right away.” The smile of the young postulant delivering the message betrayed nothing, but Kacey felt an instant pang of uneasiness. She folded the note from Annie, slipped it into her pocket and began the long walk to her superior’s office.

  Mary Julian was picking dead blossoms off her Christmas cactus as Kacey entered. She dropped a handful of shriveled blooms into the wastebasket and motioned Kacey to a chair. “I want to talk with you about a letter you received today.” Now she, too, sat down and folded her hands on her desk. “It contained a rather unusual request, don’t you think?” The look on the older nun’s face was not unkind, but still Kacey sensed danger in the question.

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Sister. My sister said she wanted to come visit me.” Kacey knew it was an inadequate answer.

  “Yes, of course, but that wasn’t what was unusual. We know that. You and I.”

&
nbsp; “Ah,” Kacey spoke softly. “You mean her request that I not tell my parents.”

  “Precisely.”

  Kacey’s hands dampened as she pulled them into tight fists within the folds of her wide sleeves. “Well, I don’t know why she would ask that.”

  “Let me be clear. We monitor mail to protect our sisters from intrusions of the world beyond our walls. To help our sisters keep their focus clear, their intent pure.”

  “Yes, Sister Mary Julian.” Kacey could not bring herself to meet Julian’s direct gaze.

  “We do not deal with deception here. Your sister is asking something quite out of the ordinary. And I can’t help but speculate why. Are you sure there’s nothing you can tell me to shed some light on her request?”

  Now Kacey lifted her head to look into Mary Julian’s face. She held her own gaze steady as she replied in a firm voice. “I assure you, I don’t know of any reason.” She paused for the briefest moment. “If I did, I would tell you.” Do I really mean that?

  Mary Julian smiled, spread her hands across her desk before pushing back her chair to stand. “Well, then,” she said, “I will take you at your word. I’ll grant your sister’s request to visit, though it does raise some concern.”

  As she wrote to Annie that evening, Kacey felt a tightness. Something was wrong.

  42

  “I’m pregnant.” Annie, pale and rigid, sat before Kacey in a small alcove off the great room.

  Kacey’s mouth flew open. A shudder ran through her. “Annie!”

  Annie closed her eyes. “But I can’t have a baby.” Kacey pulled her chair closer to Annie, glancing toward the open doorway to make certain they were not overheard. Placing her hand behind Annie’s neck, she rubbed gently.

  “Tell me.”

  The tears fell, and Annie’s voice quavered. The breakup with Dean Knutson had been painful. “I loved him, I really did,” she choked out. “But I just couldn’t live with him. He wouldn’t talk. I couldn’t reach him.”

  Kacey nodded her head, even though she knew little about the situation.

  “It was okay while we were still in school. I had friends around, ya know? But once we graduated and were just on our own, I felt like I was starving inside. I had to leave.”

  She needed, she said, to start a new life. She had moved to Boston alone, miserable in the huge city, teaching a difficult class for the first time. Friendless. Frightened. All new experiences for one who had always been in charge.

  She thought of giving up, moving home, but then she met Carlos. She smiled wistfully. “He teaches biology and coaches varsity basketball. He’s handsome. So handsome. He laughed. He danced.”

  He had taken her under his wing, showed her how to assert herself and get things done at school. How to find pleasure in her new surroundings. And finally, he took her to bed. She had soared.

  Until she realized she was pregnant. She couldn’t say she had loved him, she told Kacey, but she had needed him, and he had been there for her. Until he got the news. Then he slipped away, back to everyday life with his wife and two children.

  Kacey listened, her head pounding. “I s’pose he used me,” Annie continued. “But I used him, too. I knew he was married. He never tried to hide it.” She folded and unfolded her hands, gulping air. “But now. Now . . .” Her words trailed off.

  Kacey placed her hands over Annie’s tightly knotted fists. “How far along are you?”

  “About three months.”

  Kacey shifted nervously, willing herself to remain calm. “I need to be clear about this. Are you telling me that you want to have an abortion?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Annie . . .”

  “You’ve got to help me, Kace!”

  “How can I help?”

  Annie looked at Kacey through pain-filled eyes. “You can tell me it’s okay to have an abortion.”

  Kacey shuddered. They sat as close to one another as they could, holding hands, their knees and foreheads touching. Tears streamed down their cheeks. Neither spoke.

  Finally, Kacey said, “How can I tell you that? It goes against everything I’m supposed to stand for.”

  Annie pulled back. “Everything you’re supposed to stand for! I’m not asking about what you’re supposed to stand for. I’m asking you, as my sister, to stand with me. Stand with me!” She lifted their two sets of hands to her mouth, pressing them tightly against her lips, and began to sob.

  “Annie, Annie,” Kacey murmured through her own tears.

  “I’m trying to get my life together, Kace. Leaving Dean was hard. I thought it would be easier if I threw myself into a wild, easy relationship. No ties. No promises. Just fun.”

  Kacey nodded, though, in truth, she couldn’t imagine what Annie had been thinking.

  “Having a baby now would change the entire course of my life! I’m not ready for that!”

  “But you wouldn’t have to keep it, Annie! You could put it up for adoption.”

  Again, Annie pulled away, anger on her face. “That’s the party line, Kacey. Don’t you get it? Do you expect me to drop out of teaching for the rest of the year? I’d lose my job. How would I support myself? Where would I go? Home to Dad and Mom? Have Dad ship me off to a Catholic home for unwed mothers?” Her voice grew harsh. She stood up and began pacing, her body rigid with anger and tension.

  Kacey was panicked. “I’m having trouble thinking clearly!” Her own voice was shrill.

  “You don’t have to think! You just have to be with me, tell me it’s okay.”

  Kacey turned in her chair, following Annie with her eyes. “I need more time,” she said, anger mounting at her pleading sister.

  “There’s no time! You’re either with me, or you’re with the church. I’m your sister! I need you.”

  Kacey rose. They stood facing one another. “I couldn’t do anything for you anyway, Annie. I wouldn’t be allowed to leave.” Her voice was softer now.

  Annie reached out her hand and laid it against Kacey’s cheek. “You don’t have to actually be with me, Kace. You just have to give me your blessing. Tell me that you stand with me. If you do that, I can handle the rest.”

  Kacey took Annie’s hands in hers. Bringing them to her lips, she kissed them. God forgive me.

  She closed her eyes and whispered, “I stand with you, Annie. I love you. I bless you. Do what you have to do.”

  The weight of Kacey’s affirmation was almost unbearable for her. She left the alcove and walked slowly to her room. It was empty. Everyone was in the rec room. Sinking to her knees beside her bed, she waited, waited. Waited for some great mystery to fill her with peace. Or at least with understanding.

  As she picked up her prayer book, it fell open to the Prayer to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, so often did she turn to it.

  O Mother, behold at your feet a wretched sinner who turns to you and puts all trust in you. Mother of mercy, have pity on me! Be my refuge and my hope! Hold out your hand to fallen sinners who commend and dedicate themselves forever to your service. Help me, Mary; Mother of Perpetual Help, let me not lose my God.

  She closed the book, but the words replayed themselves in her mind. A sour taste rose in her throat. The prayer brought more questions than comfort. Did she truly mean that she put all trust in Mary, that she dedicated herself to a life of service? She could not answer those questions, especially on this night when she had taken a stand with her sister, against her church. Doubt and despair stirred at her core.

  Wearily, she rose from her knees and began undressing. If only she could sleep. But as she crawled under the covers, a new thought shot through her. Each Friday, Father Sean Reagan came to Blessed Sacrament to hear the sisters’ confessions. Five days away. Confession. She buried her face in her pillow and began to weep.

  43

  It was time for evening recreation, and Lisa intercepted K
acey on her way to the library. She looked around to make certain they weren’t being observed, then she whispered, “C’mon, Kacey. You don’t need to study every night. I’ve got a cribbage tournament lined up.”

  “Nope, can’t,” Kacey whispered back. “Shakespeare exam Friday, and I’m not ready.”

  “If you’re not ready for Shakespeare, no one is. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing! I told you.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  There was a sadness in Kacey’s eyes that Lisa could not fathom. “Tell me what’s going on ’cuz I’m beginning to think there’s something rotten in Denmark.”

  Kacey gave her friend a weary smile. “Aww, you’re too much into the tragedies. Believe me, it’s much ado about nothing.” She shouldered past Lisa and entered the library without looking back.

  The week dragged on, Kacey withdrawing more each day. Lisa watched, helpless. On Friday, they walked silently to the dining room for supper. Kacey passed the platter of fried chicken without taking any. She passed the green bean casserole, too, then finally took a small portion of mashed potatoes, which she proceeded to push slowly around her plate.

  Lisa’s eyes widened when she saw Kacey stand and approach Sister Mary Julian at the head of the table. “Sister Mary Julian,” Kacey said in a faint voice, “I’m really not feeling well. I’d like permission to return to my room.”

  Her superior looked up in surprise. Kacey was noticeably pale. “But Father Reagan will be hearing confession right after supper.”