Waiting to Believe (15 page)

The woods and wildflowers grew lusher with each passing week. What a gift! And part of the gift of this place was the sweetness of young voices, the abandonment with which Kacey was greeted each morning. She was a favorite with the little band of campers and the teenage counselors as well. The counselors watched her, intrigued by the occasional twinkle in her sky-blue eyes. They wanted to get to know this leprechaun disguised as a nun.

Even though Kacey's reason for coming to Oak Alley, the counselors' cabin, during afternoon rest period was to compare notes on one of the children, she was secretly pleased to be in the unguarded midst of the bubbly teens.

A portable record player sat on a dresser. The tinny sound blasting from it invaded her sensitivities. “
It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog . . .
” The voices were not familiar to Kacey. The harmonies were tight. The beat was driving. Music had changed in two years.

The girls had tacked posters on the rough wood walls. She recognized Peter, Paul and Mary. Bobby Vinton. Elvis. But above one of the beds was a wildly colored poster of six young musicians in suggestive poses, smirks on their faces.
It's too intense
, Kacey thought; too intimate in a peculiar way. She stared at the poster for a moment. “Who are
they?
”

Cindy Skoglund was incredulous. “The Rolling Stones!” She laughed as she turned down the volume on the phonograph.

“Never heard of them. Is that who's singing?”

“No, no, no!
That's
the Beatles!”

“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.