In This Small Spot (36 page)

She laughed. “No, I’ll start fresh.” She
frowned at the blueprints. “But I do have a few extras I’d like to
add to the house.”

╬ ╬ ╬

“I don’t know how to say good-bye,” Mickey
said with tears in her eyes. She was in Mother Theodora’s office,
wearing khakis and a sweater for the first time in five years.

“Then don’t,” Mother Theodora admonished.
“Simply tell me that you’ll see me soon.”

“I will,” Mickey promised. “I’ll call and
arrange a time with Sister Mary David in the next two or three
weeks to begin medical visits.”

“It’s very generous of you to offer your
services to the community, Mickey. I wish you would allow us to pay
you something. I still feel we owe you some compensation for your
injuries.”

“That’s not necessary,” Mickey insisted.
“This arrangement allows me to feel that I’m giving something back
to the abbey for all it’s given me, and selfishly, still allows me
to feel a connection to this place. But please emphasize that my
feelings will not be hurt at all if any of the sisters prefers to
see another doctor, or Greg. As I’m sure you can attest, it isn’t
always easy having a personal relationship with your doctor.”

Mother Theodora smiled. “Personally, I count
myself blessed to have such a dear friend as my physician.”

Mickey’s throat suddenly felt too tight for
a response. The telephone on Mother’s desk rang. She answered and
then said as she hung up, “James is here.”

Mickey stood with her crutches, and then
braced herself on one so that she could embrace Mother Theodora as
she came around her desk.

“I will miss you very much,” Mickey managed
to say.

“And I you, Mickey.”

Together, they walked down the corridor to
the entry where Jamie already had Mickey’s trunk and wheelchair
loaded into the back of the SUV. Mickey was not prepared for most
of the community to be assembled to see her off. She had said
private farewells to many of them over the past few weeks: to
Sisters Catherine, Paula and Madeline who had taught her so much;
to Sister Stephen who confided that Mickey had been one of the best
Latin students she had ever taught; to Sister Regina who had
provided perhaps the best example of how to balance prayer and
work; to Abigail from whom she elicited a promise not to betray
Mother Theodora’s trust. To Sister Mary David, “There aren’t words
enough to thank you for all you’ve done for me,” she had said, with
a promise to call soon.

One person she’d known wouldn’t be here was
Father Andrew. She’d gone to see him immediately after her meeting
with Mother. He must have heard the click of her crutches coming up
the walk to his house, because he opened the door as she raised a
hand to knock.

He stepped back to let her in, and went to
clear a place at the dining table for her.

“Raymond is a scholar, but a messy one,” he
said apologetically, as he shoved books and papers aside and pulled
out a chair.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Mickey huffed,
winded by the walk to the chaplain’s house.

“You’re leaving,” Father Andrew said, taking
an adjacent chair. “What is there to talk about?”

Mickey looked at him in surprise. “Did
Mother –?” she began, wondering how he could have heard so
quickly.

He shook his head. “No. You told me.” He
looked into her eyes. “In bits and pieces, over the past three or
four months. I could hear it in the things you said, and in the
things you didn’t say.”

Mickey digested this. “Are you
disappointed?” she asked.

“In you?” He shook his head and leaned
toward her. “No. Never in you.” He paused and absent-mindedly
folded over a corner of one of the papers lying on the table. “And
just in case you’re wondering if you’ve made any kind of difference
around here… you have.” He cleared his throat and sat back. “I’m
sober because of you.”

“Because I threatened to turn you in, you
mean,” she reminded him.

“Same difference,” he insisted. “You had the
guts – the fortitude, the sisters would say – to act on what you
knew was right. You’ve done that again and again while you’ve been
here.” He waved his hand. “I know you’ll continue to do it out
there.”

Mickey nodded and gathered her crutches to
stand. Father Andrew walked her to the door.

“Just so you know,” he said, “I’m not good
at good-byes.”

Mickey looked up at him, swallowing all the
words lying unspoken between them. She nodded again and turned to
make her clumsy way back to the abbey.

Many of the nuns, the ones who didn’t know
Mickey well, made an effort to wish her well over her last days.
Perhaps the greatest surprise had been Sister Scholastica, who had
stopped Mickey in a corridor a few days before she was scheduled to
leave. “Sister,” she began hesitantly. She didn’t seem to know
where to look – she couldn’t meet Mickey’s gaze, nor could she seem
to bring herself to look down at Mickey’s crutches. She averted her
eyes to the adjacent wall as she struggled with what she wanted to
say. “I wanted to speak with you… I wanted to tell you that the
abbey will be the poorer for your absence.” Her jaw worked back and
forth as she raised her gaze as high as Mickey’s cheek, but still
not quite to her eyes. “I wish you well in your new venture,” she
added before turning to walk away.

She stopped abruptly as Mickey said gently,
“I hope you know that none of this is your fault.”

Sister Scholastica stood rigidly, her veil
obscuring her face from view.

“And thank you for the flowers.”

With a barely perceptible nod of her head,
Sister Scholastica continued on her way.

Lastly had been Jessica, to whom Mickey had
said, “You have been my rock. I wouldn’t have lasted this long
without you.” And Jessica, in her typical, unflappable way, had
replied, “You’ll be nearby, and will be out here weekly, so we’ll
still have each other to talk to. This is not good-bye.”

Mickey’s eyes ran now along the line of
figures, all dressed alike in black and white, yet so different.
And so familiar. Not trusting herself to say anything more, she
walked out the door and climbed awkwardly into the SUV. Jamie
placed her crutches in the back seat. As he pulled out of St.
Bridget’s drive onto the main road, Jamie said, “I would’ve bet I’d
be coming back to get you after five weeks, not five years.”

Mickey nodded and blinked back tears as she
looked back through the trees at the abbey. “I would have made the
same bet.”

Jamie drove her to the new house, her first
actual view of the clapboard and stone bungalow in the midst of
renovations. The drive and yard were dotted with mature trees and
construction trucks. Workers were framing the roof of the addition
which extended from the rear of the house. They looked over toward
the old detached garage where heat and air-conditioning were being
installed.

“The new garage will come directly into the
utility room over there,” Jamie said, walking her in that
direction.

Mickey looked around and sighed. “It’s
beautiful. You were right –”

“Wait,” Jamie cut her off, glancing at his
watch and holding up a finger.

Mickey stood there, not sure what they were
waiting for when she heard it. The bell for None was ringing from
somewhere behind the house.

She looked unbelievingly at Jamie who
beamed. “Your property butts up against the abbey’s farm land,” he
pointed, “just over that ridge. If you walk to the top, you can see
the roof of the abbey and the bell tower.”

She hugged him tightly. He laughed, picking
her up and swinging her around, her crutches flying. “I told you it
was perfect!”

Chapter 45

The windows were all open, letting a
wonderful early summer breeze blow through the house. Mickey peeled
off her chambray shirt and stood balanced against the kitchen
island in jeans and a t-shirt, making a salad.

“It’s beautiful,” Jennifer called admiringly
as she came back downstairs, looking around the living room.

“It won’t win any design contests.”

“I don’t know,” Jennifer disagreed. “It’s
austere – nothing on the walls, no frills, but every piece you’ve
picked is beautifully made, functional. The hardwood floors are in
beautiful condition. I like the sage and beige you’ve picked for
the walls. It’s clean and… meditative.”

Mickey grinned. “Think maybe my taste has
been influenced by five years in a monastery?”

“Undoubtedly.” Jennifer looked around.
“Including no television, I see.”

“Too much noise,” Mickey wrinkled her nose.
“I prefer the quiet. Speaking of which, I can’t tell you how much I
appreciate you and Jamie allowing me to stay at your house the last
few weeks while the work here was being completed. The commotion of
all the construction workers was unbelievable.”

“Well, it’s not like your presence
inconvenienced us in any way,” Jennifer replied, pausing to peruse
the books on the built-in shelves. “We were both stuck in the city
for the past month. Jamie’s latest commission was very well
received, and he got two more as a result. That’s where he is now.”
Jennifer stopped in front of the only photo on display – it was one
taken about a year before Alice got sick. Mickey was sandwiched in
between Alice and Jennifer, all of them laughing hysterically at
something – Jen couldn’t remember what.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Mickey said. “Any
chance Jamie’ll be joining us?”

“I’m really not sure. You know what he’s
like when he gets working,” Jennifer shrugged. “He may be there all
night long.” Jennifer pulled a book out and flipped through the
pages. “I noticed there’s one furnished room upstairs,” she said
nonchalantly.

“Very subtle,” Mickey observed
sarcastically. “I’ll furnish the other rooms as I find decent stuff
at moving sales and antique shops, but… I wanted one room ready for
her in case she wants her own space.”

Jennifer turned from the bookshelf. “You
said in her letters that she never comes out and says if or when
she’ll be back. It’s been months. Do you really still believe
she’ll come to you after all this time?” she asked dubiously.

Mickey didn’t answer immediately. Her
crutches clicked metallically as she moved over to the stove to
stir the chicken simmering in a pan. “I have to,” she said quietly.
“Could you set the table?”

“Sure,” Jennifer said.

“Mickey!” she exclaimed, stopping in her
tracks as she entered the kitchen.

“What?” Mickey jumped, looking around to see
what had startled Jennifer.

“Look at you! I haven’t seen you in anything
but a habit or a sweater for ages. I didn’t realize you were this
lean, and look at your arms!”

Mickey laughed as she spooned rice into a
bowl. “I can’t afford to carry any extra weight anymore. Hauling my
ass around on these,” she nodded toward the crutches propped
against the countertop, “for the past year has been like a daily
weight workout.”

“Well, you look fantastic,” Jennifer said,
giving Mickey’s butt a pat on her way to the cupboard to get
plates. “If I weren’t married…”

“To my brother.”

“Well…”

“And pregnant.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“You are rotten,” Mickey scolded, but she
smiled as she added, “But thanks anyway.” She put the bowls of food
on a rolling cart and pushed it all out to the table, using her
hips and crutches to steer it.

“What a great idea,” Jennifer said as she
set the bowls on the table.

“Well, it’s noisy, but I’m learning to make
as few trips as possible,” Mickey said as she sat.

“Ummm, this smells great. Alice would be so
proud of you,” Jennifer said as she passed the chicken to
Mickey.

“No,” Mickey laughed, “she’d be pissed that
I could have learned to do this a long time ago, and didn’t.”

Just as they began dishing food onto their
plates, the doorbell rang.

“Come in!” Mickey called out, salad tongs in
hand. “You’re just in t–”

Jennifer grabbed her arm. Mickey looked at
Jennifer and then followed her gaze to the door. It took her a few
seconds to recognize the woman standing there beside Jamie.

“Look who turned up at our house,” he
said.

Lauren was wearing corduroy slacks and a
light turtleneck, and her blond hair was long enough to be pulled
back into a loose braid, but the eyes, Mickey would have known
those eyes anywhere.

Mickey sat back weakly in her chair, still
holding the salad tongs. “We were just talking about you,” was all
she could think of to say.

“Am I interrupting?” Lauren asked
uncertainly.

“Of course not,” Jennifer said, jumping up
to give her a hug. “Come in and sit down,” she insisted as she led
Lauren and Jamie to the table.

Jamie held back. “We should go.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mickey chided, collecting
herself. “Let’s say grace and eat.”

They clasped hands and Mickey prayed, “We
thank you for all the blessings you have given us, for the food we
are about to receive, but mostly,” she squeezed Lauren’s hand, “we
thank you for allowing us all to be together again. Amen.”

As they began eating, Jennifer excitedly
asked Lauren to tell them what she’d been doing.

“I’ve been in San Francisco,” Lauren
answered. “Dealing with my mother’s will. Did Michele tell you
anything about that?” When Jennifer and Jamie shook their heads no,
Lauren continued, “Well, it’s been a nightmare. I was finally able
to buy my sister’s share of the house and give my father the deed.
I convinced her to contribute to a trust fund for him, and I got my
brother set up with a trust fund also, which will only pay him the
interest. If he finds a way to go through the principle, he’s on
his own.”

She ate a few bites, not saying anything
more until Mickey asked uncomfortably, “What about the rest?”

Lauren looked at her with a smile and said,
“That’s the best part. After all my mother did to try and sever my
connection to St. Bridget’s, I’ve given the abbey the rest of her
money.”