by Sandra Bloom
I should be there, making coffee, making out the to-do list. She had to wrestle away resentment.
The morning bell came before she was ready, but she stumbled from bed and slipped into her now familiar and comfortable routine. No, this is good, this is where I should be. This feels like home . . . She was full of contradictions as she walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
Kacey was summoned to the office of the mistress of juniors after breakfast. Sister Mary Julian’s eyes were filled with kindness as she welcomed Kacey, handing her a cup of tea. “I want to know how you are, Sister Mary Laurence.”
It was a difficult question to answer. “Thank you for asking,” Kacey replied. “I believe I’m doing well.”
“Do I sense some hesitation?”
“Oh, no, Sister. It was important to be there with my family, and I found comfort in the requiem liturgy. I think it’s sustaining me.”
“God is our rock, but tradition anchors our lives, my dear. You’ve just experienced that firsthand—yet you seem surprised by it.”
Kacey blushed. “Well, maybe a little.”
“I’ve always appreciated your honesty.”
They both sipped their tea. “Thank you, Sister Mary Julian. Honesty is important to me. It’s my compass.”
“Ah, I think I know that about you. Tell me again what inscription you’ve chosen for the ring you’ll receive at final vows.”
“Live the Truth in Love.” Kacey spoke the words tenderly.
“Yes, yes. I thought that was it. You chose well. And I know you’ll be able to honor it.”
Kacey smiled but did not speak. “Well,” Mary Julian stood, “you’ll be receiving that ring in a few weeks, but there’s still much to do before that! I take it you’re ready to step back into your life with us.”
“Yes, Sister.”
Mary Julian chuckled. “Good answer!”
“What are the magic words from the legend of Ali Baba? Ten letters.” Sister Mary Bartholomew sat alone in the rec room, a crossword puzzle on the table before her. She looked up at Kacey, who was on her way to join others playing five hundred rummy.
Kacey stopped and sat down opposite her old roommate. “Well, let’s see. How about ‘open sesame’?”
Bartholomew counted off the spaces across the puzzle. “You got it! Thanks!”
“No problem. I’m here to help!” Kacey teased.
Her friend pushed the newspaper aside. “How ya doing?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on up here.” She tapped her forehead with her index finger.
“I’m not surprised. Are we ever ready for the death of a parent?”
“I doubt it,” Kacey replied. “It was almost otherworldly being back there. It’d been a long time. So much had changed, and yet so much is the same.”
“Was it good to be with your family?”
Kacey shifted, the game of rummy now forgotten. She picked up a deck of cards from the table and began shuffling them. “Yeah, it was good. But you know, they’ve grown up without me. I don’t think I was ready for it.”
“How about your dad?”
Kacey continued shuffling. “My dad,” she repeated. “I think I saw a side of him I hadn’t seen before. A softness, maybe. Maybe he’s grown up without me, too!”
It was good to talk with Bartholomew, who was still Elaine in Kacey’s mind. They had been through a lot together in six years. Kacey smiled. “There’s nothing like death to make a person take a hard look at life,” she declared.
“Is that what you’re doing,” Bartholomew tapped her own forehead, “up here?”
“I think it is. Still trying to figure it all out.”
“What are you coming up with?”
Kacey shrugged. “Oh, gol, nothing’s entirely black or white, I guess. After all this time, I still feel I have a foot in both worlds. That’s unsettling for me.”
Bartholomew was puzzled. Her face showed her concern. “Is there anything you are sure of?”
Kacey was quiet for a moment. It was a powerful silence. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m finally coming to terms with myself. That I’m on the right track.”
Relief spread across Bartholomew’s face. “Oh, thank goodness! For final vows, you mean.”
“I didn’t say that,” Kacey said with some irritation. “I just said I’m on the right track, but I’m not sure which track it is. I know it doesn’t make sense.”
Someone had turned up the volume on the phonograph, and Kate Smith was belting out “God Bless America” for the third time that evening. It was the Fourth of July, and Kacey was glad to have a break from Lefty Frizzell’s “Mom and Dad’s Waltz.” She had never particularly liked the song, but after hearing it regularly now for six years, she felt like screaming when Lefty began his whine: “I’d walk for miles, cry or smile, for my mama and my daddy.”
Kacey immediately regretted her response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap . . .”
Bartholomew looked right at Kacey. “What do you want, Mary Laurence?”
The question startled Kacey in its directness. She was silent for a moment and then, in a rush, blurted out the truth of what she wanted. “I want to hear the Rolling Stones. And the Byrds and the Turtles! I want to be a part of the world! I want to walk outside!” There it was again. “That’s what I want!” She stopped herself, her eyes filling with tears. “Ya know, I think I just want to talk with someone. I want to talk to Mary Leo. I need to talk!”
“Then do it, Mary Laurence. Do it tomorrow. Don’t wait!”
“You’re back.” Sister Mary Leo smiled at the pale young nun standing before her. Kacey could not speak.
“Come,” Mary Leo said. “Let’s go down to the garden, shall we?”
Kacey fell in step with her beloved teacher. They walked in silence down two flights of stairs and then out into the sweet sunshine of the gardens. Surrounded by beauty, the two sat on the glider tucked between a blaze of orange poppies and midnight-blue delphiniums.
Kacey felt surprisingly strong. She began. “I think I’ve prayed more in the last couple of weeks than I have in my entire life.”
“That’s a good sign!” Mary Leo said, almost playfully.
“But it hasn’t been the Prayer to Our Lady of Perpetual Help. I’ve pretty much worn that one out. It’s just been me, trying to get through to God. Or maybe me wanting God to get through to me.”
Mary Leo looked intently into Kacey’s face. There was silence between them. Kacey could feel it, could hear it in her ears. She swallowed deeply. “When I met with Sister Mary Julian earlier, we talked about the inscription I chose for my ring: ‘Live the Truth in Love.’ That’s what I want for my life. It’s become that simple.”
“And?”
“I can’t do that here.”
“Oh, my dear.”
“I’m committed to the works of mercy. I want to be a person of mercy! I want the world to be a little better because I’m in it . . . But I don’t think that will happen if I stay.”
Kacey could not believe the words coming out of her mouth. After all this time, she was finally claiming it.
Mary Leo lowered her head, her distress emanating through her entire being. “Oh, Mary Laurence.”
Kacey was not to be stopped. “I’ve prayed the prayers, I’ve tried to do what was asked of me—” She broke for a moment. “But I can’t make myself believe what I don’t believe.”
“Mary Laurence.” Her teacher’s anguish showed on her face.
“It’s true, Sister! It’s finally become clear to me that I have to leave!”
There. It was said.
The intensity of the conversation had brought both to the edge of their seats, but now they both leaned back, trying to take in the enormity of it.
“But it’s more than the beliefs, Sister. It�
�s the community’s unrelenting efforts to take away the humanity of each young woman who enters.”
Mary Leo raised an eyebrow but Kacey continued. “The day I made my temporary vows my mother gave me a robe.” Tears now rushed down her cheeks, puddling in the corners of her mouth. “She made it for me. Do you have any idea what that meant to me?”
“My dear, my dear.”
“And it was taken from me by Mother Mary Bernard! My robe! The only gift I ever remember from my mother!”
Mary Leo reached across to Kacey, placing a gentle hand on Kacey’s arm.
“I do understand your loss, Mary Laurence, but surely you must understand we were simply trying to create a new life of devotion for you. With no distractions from the outside world so you could—”
But Kacey interrupted, her tears still streaming, her nose running. “You didn’t need to do that! I came willingly.” She shook her head back and forth. “Now, after all these years, I’m not sure I even really know who I am anymore.” She lifted her eyes and looked directly at Sister Mary Leo. “The community did that to me.” Her shoulders moved in rhythm with her soft sobs. “It was inhumane,” she said in a firm voice.
The morning sun had shifted. They now sat in dancing shadows. Finally, there was a respite. Mary Leo looked at Mary Laurence, her heart breaking at the sight of the distraught young sister. “I’m so sorry for your pain, Mary Laurence . . . So very sorry . . . And for your long struggle.”
Kacey wiped her eyes and looked at her teacher. Mary Leo’s eyes reflected her sadness. Her words were gentle as she said, “You’re an honorable young woman, Mary Laurence. A woman of great integrity. You’ll find your own way,” she paused for a moment, “but it will be our loss.”
Kacey stopped in the kitchen for a cup of coffee as Lisa came storming through, looking for her. Lisa’s voice was harsh as she waved a newspaper in front of Kacey. “This’ll make your Irish blood boil!”
“Not now, Lisa.” Kacey looked away.
“Yes! Now!” Lisa was not to be denied. “The pope’s just issued an encyclical condemning birth control! How out of touch can—”
Kacey interrupted her again with a whisper. “Not now, Lisa.”
Lisa stopped abruptly, seeing Kacey’s anguish. “What’s wrong?”
“Come with me to the chapel.”
“We can’t go into the chapel together! You know that!”
But Kacey stiffened and in a resolute voice declared, “Yes, we can. Come with me!”
Lisa’s eyes widened, but she said nothing. Still clutching the newspaper, she followed Kacey. They entered a side door and sat in the first pew. Kacey dropped her head into her hands and began to sob. Lisa said nothing but after a moment, reached out and grasped Kacey’s shoulders with both hands, pulling her into an embrace. “Tell me, tell me,” she murmured.
Kacey gave herself to the embrace, and for the first time, they clung to one another, rocking slightly, allowing their bodies to offer comfort.
“I’ve made a decision, Leesey. I’m leaving.” Sobs again wracked her body. She shook violently.
“Kacey, Kacey, Kacey,” Lisa crooned, running her hand up and down Kacey’s back. “Oh, Kacey . . .”
In choked sentences, the whole story came out, nothing Lisa had not heard before, but never in this way. Never with this finality.
“Have you talked with Mother Mary Agnes?”
“Not yet. I’ll do it tomorrow morning to make it official, but I’ve just spent the afternoon with Mary Leo.”
“She must have tried to talk you out of it.”
“I’m not sure that she really did. She listened. She asked questions. But I think what she wants is for me to make the right decision for myself.”
They leaned back now, side by side in the pew.
“And you’re really sure—you’re positive—this is the right decision?”
Kacey’s smile was sad. “Yeah, I’m positive. You know, it’s been coming for quite a while. I just didn’t put all the pieces together.”
“Was it the rock fest that put you over the edge?”
In spite of herself, Kacey had to smile. “Well, it contributed. It kinda opened my eyes to the world outside I’ve been missing. That I want to be in.”
“But Kacey—”
“‘It’s a beautiful morning’ out there, Leesey, like the Rascals sang. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. I want to be a part of it!”
Tears filled Lisa’s eyes. She knew it was over. “What can I do for you, Kace?”
Kacey smiled again at her dear friend. “You can come with me.”
“Oh, Kacey!” she exclaimed. “You’re not serious!”
“I sort of am.”
Lisa couldn’t tell if she were being teased, but her response was quick. “Nope, can’t do it,” she said. “If I were ever to leave, you’d probably be the reason, but I’m right where I want to be.”
“Oh, I know,” Kacey responded. “I was only teasing.” But neither of them was really sure . . .
65
Mother Mary Agnes was waiting for Kacey, who arrived at nine. The mother general stood before her window, looking out on the lush gardens below. Off in the distance was Kacey’s vegetable garden, dotted with the brilliant red of tomatoes ready to be picked.
Mary Agnes motioned Kacey to a chair. This would not be a coffee-and-cookie kind of meeting. “Well, Sister Mary Laurence, I’m disheartened to learn you wish to leave us.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“You’ve spoken with Mary Julian and Mary Leo, but you were not able to reach a place where you could be comfortable fulfilling your commitment?”
Kacey felt a jab at the words. “That’s correct, Mother.”
“Pity,” Mary Agnes said softly.
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Kacey’s unease was palpable.
“I’ve watched you over these years, Mary Laurence. I’ve known your path was not an easy one. You carry a lot of, shall we say, spunk. Others have used harsher words. Willful, perhaps. Strong headed.”
Kacey felt her cheeks flame, but the mother general was not chastising her. Her expression was kind.
“Nonetheless, I have always thought you would make a splendid sister. I still feel that way.”
“Thank you, Mother Mary Agnes. You pay me a great compliment.”
The old nun extended her folded hands across the mahogany desk. She leaned toward Kacey. “I know you’ve expressed your concerns to Julian and Leo, but I want you to tell them to me now. Don’t leave a thing out.”
Kacey shifted in her chair. “Well, I think it began with the ironing . . .”
An hour later, Kacey sat back in the chair, exhausted. Her throat was dry, her temples pounded. Mary Agnes had listened intently, interrupting occasionally to seek clarification. “Have you spoken to any of the sisters about your decision?”
“No, I haven’t,” Kacey lied.
“Does your family know?”
“No, I haven’t talked with them. I’ll call my father when we’re done.”
“He’ll be disappointed,” Mary Agnes said with certainty.
Kacey flinched. “Yes.”
“It’s been an arduous struggle for you, Sister.”
“It has,” Kacey agreed.
“But you are now confident of your decision.” It was not a question.
“I am, Mother Mary Agnes.”
“Then I must accept it. Regretfully.” She pulled open a desk drawer and withdrew several papers. “Please read these forms releasing you from your commitment. Sign the last sheet.” She pushed the papers across the desk, handing Kacey a fountain pen.
Kacey’s hand shook as she reached for the pen. She scanned the papers, unable to focus on the words. It didn’t matter. She knew what they meant. Flipping to the last page, she saw
two blank lines and carefully wrote her name: “Sister Mary Laurence.” And below it, “Kathryn Clare Doyle.”
They both stood. “I would ask that you be discreet in saying your good-byes. We’ve changed our ways of dealing with departing sisters since you came, but we would still rather it not be a distraction. Please be judicious.”
“Of course, Mother.”
The mother general held out her hand to Kacey. “I wish you well, Kathryn Clare. We will all continue to hold you in prayer. Go with God.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Kacey walked to the door on unsteady legs.
It was over.
She went directly to her room, looking around at her scant belongings. It would not be difficult to pack. Her books and a small stack of letters were the most important. The letter on top was from Mary Adrian, still in Rochester. Another was from Mary Paul, with a photo of branches and green leaves and a dot of blurred red. The elusive Cardinal Spellman.
At the bottom of the stack was a folded envelope. She pulled out the three baseball cards in it: Killebrew, Allison, Oliva. Steven McLeod’s gift to her, his favorite players. Kacey treasured the memories.
She removed the veil from her head. Then the pinny and the blouse. Standing in her white T-shirt and navy skirt, she shivered. This would be her home-going outfit. She would never wear a veil again.
She packed her belongings in a small suitcase retrieved from the trunk room in the basement. Finished, she set out to say her good-byes.
Soon, there was no one left but Lisa. From the open chapel windows, she heard the voices of the older sisters practicing their hymns for final vows. She knew she would find Lisa there, listening. And there she was, in the back pew, a trail of tears on her pale face. Kacey slid in next to her. Lisa’s eyes flew open.
“Can we walk?” Kacey asked. “Let’s say our good-byes out in the open. It’ll be easier that way.” Lisa nodded agreement. Kacey’s heart broke at the pain on Lisa’s face. They left the chapel through the side door and headed for the gardens.