Waiting to Believe (36 page)

Sister Mary Julian was, indeed, a good woman. A woman of discernment. Her eyes took in Kacey's face as she offered her a cup of coffee. Kacey spooned sugar into the cup, stirring it longer than necessary, avoiding her superior across the small table from her. Mary Julian lifted a plate of cookies. “Sugar cookies fresh from the oven.” Her expression was peaceful, reassuring. Kacey reached for a cookie but could not put it in her dry mouth. She laid it on her saucer.

“Now,” Mary Julian leaned back in the easy chair, her cup raised to her chin, “I know you didn't make this appointment just to have coffee and cookies with me.”

Kacey swallowed and began. “Well, Sister, you know I've had some struggles over these six years. More than my share, I think.” Mary Julian nodded. “And now I'm struggling again. More than at any other time.”

Mary Julian placed her cup in its saucer. She leaned forward slightly. Kacey thought she saw a flicker of pain. “I'm sorry to hear this, Mary Laurence. I know you've had difficulty with willfulness. Your ‘willful spirit,' as I've heard it described. But it sounds like this goes beyond willfulness.”

“Yes, Sister.” Kacey swallowed deeply and went on. “It goes to whether I should take final vows.”

“Oh.” The word was drawn out as Mary Julian spoke it.
Ohhh
. “How can I help you?”

The kindly response brought immediate relief to Kacey. “I'd like your permission to talk about my concerns with Sister Mary Leo.”

“Mary Leo?”

“Yes, Sister. I have great respect for her. I've appreciated being her student. Her moral issues class was the greatest learning experience of my life.”

“That's quite a compliment.”

“And I think she knows me better than anyone else here.”

Mary Julian's eyebrows raised slightly. “Oh, I think we all know you quite well, Sister. But I must ask you this: Do you believe we've failed you in your preparations?”

Kacey was startled by the question. “Oh no, the inadequacy is entirely my own!”

Julian rested her elbows on the arms of the chair, folded her hands, and brought them against her upper lip. She was silent.

Kacey shifted in her chair, coffee and cookies forgotten.

The older nun chose her words carefully. “You are a young woman of many gifts. You have the capacity to do good things in our community, Sister Mary Laurence.”

A small shudder ran through Kacey. She did not respond.

Mary Julian rose from her chair and walked to the window. Kacey watched her as she stared out into the summer sunshine, speaking, finally, in measured tones. “But if you need to pursue this with Mary Leo, then I grant you permission to do so. We do not want anyone to make a false profession, Sister, but neither do we want anyone to slip away who should remain in the fold.”

“Yes, Sister.”

“You must pursue this prayerfully.” She turned to Kacey, and Kacey met her eyes, searching for understanding. “You may go now. I will pray for you and for Sister Mary Leo as she seeks to counsel you.”

The meeting was over. Kacey had gotten what she wanted, but she was surprised at the depth of her own sadness in response to Mary Julian's disappointment. Julian turned back to the window, and Kacey slipped out the door.

58

Sister Mary Leo leaned forward in her chair. “Well, Sister Mary Laurence, can you tell me what it is that's causing you to question your vocation?”

“I think it started with ironing the habits and the veils.” She gulped, “Well, not the actual
ironing
of them, but the opportunity that came with the task.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Kacey explained her clandestine reading of the newspapers covering the floor beneath the ironing board. And her growing anguish at being cut off from the great issues of the day.

Mary Leo listened in amazement as Kacey poured out her pent-up frustrations. “The war, the assassinations. Everything's changing. People I've loved all my life are changing.” She paused. “But I don't see myself changing. I feel cut off. Without a voice. Without an opinion.” The words rushed out.

Mary Leo rose and began to pace, slowly. She stopped from time to time, running her fingers over objects on the mantle. “You feel you are without a voice. That's perhaps true at this point in your life, Sister, though I doubt you are without an opinion.” Mary Leo's expression softened. “You are not the same young woman who joined us six years ago. You've grown. Whether you see it or not, your faith in God has grown.”

Kacey watched her teacher carefully and then, in a husky voice, said the words that were so difficult to speak. “Again, I must respectfully disagree, Sister. I think it's just the opposite. My faith has not grown. I don't know that I could make my final vows and maintain my integrity. I want to, but I have too many doubts.”

“It's understandable to have some
doubts as you approach final vows. But there is a place for you within this community. A place for you to do good for the rest of your life.”

Kacey lowered her eyes. Tears threatened, but she held them back. “I'm not sure I can make that commitment for the rest of my life.”

The older nun sat down again, across from Kacey. She stared into Kacey's anguished face and said gently, “Then make it for today. Just today.”

59

“Kenneth.” From a deep sleep, Kenneth heard Rose's voice. Then again, louder, “Kenneth!” Her fingernails dug into his shoulder. He sat up, switching on the bedside lamp.

“Rose? What is it?” Struggling to adjust to the light, he turned to her lying beside him, her face white, covered in sweat.

“Sick. I'm so sick!” She reached up, clutching his arm in a tight grip. “Help me, Kenneth.”

“Rosie, Rosie,” he crooned. “I'll take care of you,” he said as he reached for the phone.

It happens so fast. The ambulance ride. The rush through the emergency room. The questions. The doctors. The machines being put into play. The waiting as he hovers.

A hospital chaplain Kenneth does not know enters the room, slips on his purple stole, and bends down to Rose, uttering timeless words as he dabs her head with oil: “Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit.” Kenneth watches. The young priest takes Rose's hands, anointing her palms, “May the Lord who frees you from your sins save you and raise you up.” Kenneth does not move.

The priest packs up his oils, turns to Kenneth. “May your belief in the Resurrection and the life everlasting comfort you and give you peace, Mr.—” He stumbles for a moment, to pull up Kenneth's name. “Mr. Doyle.” He reaches out to shake Kenneth's hand and leaves the room.

Kenneth sits next to Rose's bed, his eyes fixed on her face, relaxed now, in death.

“I'm very sorry, Mr. Doyle.” The polite voice seems to come from far away. From a world he does not know.

“Oh, Rosie, Rosie! Forgive me.. Forgive me for failing you . . .”

The early-morning skies were heavy as Kacey stepped onto the back porch of Blessed Sacrament. In the distance, she heard the faint rumble of thunder. The hint of rain did not displease her. She felt rested and hopeful. Her time with Mary Leo had allowed her heart “to sit down,” an old African saying she had learned from a friend.

She had slipped away from the breakfast table with a cup of coffee to sit outside and listen to the jabbering of birds. What a happy sound.

Mother Mary Bernard came through the back door, a shadow crossing her face as she said, “We've been looking for you. Go to Mother Mary Agnes's office right away. You have a phone call.”

60

Kacey checked her mirrors, put the wagon in gear, and pulled out of the drive, heading for home. She wished for a radio. Anything to break the silence. Lisa sat at her side.

Mother Mary Agnes had not been pleased that it was Lisa whom Kacey had chosen to accompany her for the three-day trip to bury her mother. But it was Kacey's right to choose. For once, Kacey was grateful for the rule that sisters could not travel alone. It was comforting to have her friend with her.

Lisa had been in the library when Kacey came to her with the news. They packed small overnight bags and left immediately. After a few miles, Kacey said, “This is surreal.”

“I can't imagine what you're going through,” Lisa acknowledged.

“It's like this must be happening to someone else, and I'm just along for the ride.”

Lisa looked at her friend. “It was so sudden. That's the thing.”

“Mom's always seemed fragile, but you know, that's just how it was. Nothing ever really changed with her,” Kacey said in a soft voice. “She was the same last time I talked to her as she was when I was a kid.”

“When
was
the last time?”

“Oh, let's see. I got that package early in June. With the cookies. Remember?”

Lisa smiled wryly. “Oh, I remember the cookies.”

“But then she called not long after that. She wasn't sure of the date for final vows. Wanted to get it on the calendar.”

“How'd she sound?”

“Like Mom. Complaining about Joey. Wanting something from Dad. I don't remember what we said before we hung up.” Kacey was silent for a moment. “Well, she said she loved me, and I s'pose I said it back, but, you know . . .” Her voice trailed off. She swallowed. “You know, it was the kind of ‘love you' that gets said at the end of a conversation. Just another way of saying good-bye.”

“Even so, you know she meant it, Kacey. And you did, too.”

“Yeah, I did.” Kacey wiped away a single tear. “I just never dreamed it'd be the last time I'd talk to her.” She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “I can't imagine walking into the house without her there.”

Lisa wished she could comfort her friend. “Well, in spite of everything, there's a lot of love in that house. It's still there.”

“I wonder,” Kacey mused. “I'm afraid I'll feel like I don't belong there anymore.”

“You'll always belong there, Kace. Don't ever doubt that.” Lisa responded.

Kacey watched familiar landmarks come into sight, taking on new meaning. She would never view things the same way again. “Not far now,” she said.

“Kacey?”

“What?”

“I'm nervous.”

“About what?”

“Oh, that your family will resent me being here. They don't know me.”

“They've all met you.”

“Yeah, in the middle of a hundred penguins! We all look alike, you know. I doubt that one of your family could pick me out in a crowd.”

“So what?”

“Well, I'm glad it was me you wanted, but I don't want them to resent my coming.”

“Lisa, my folks—” Kacey caught herself. “My dad knows the rules. He understands that I wouldn't be allowed to travel alone. The kids'll get it, too. Just be yourself.”

Now the long driveway was ahead of them. Kacey's hands tightened on the wheel as she turned in. The apple trees on either side were brilliant in the summer sunshine. And then they were at the house. The broad front porch was empty. She drove past it and pulled up by the back door.

Lisa reached out, touching Kacey's knee. Kacey smiled at her. “Here we are,” she said. “Let's do it.” But she felt alone as she climbed from the car.

Bridget saw them and burst through the kitchen door, rushing into Kacey's arms and holding on. When Kacey looked up, Maureen was standing in the doorway, waiting her turn. Kacey took one arm away from Bridget and motioned Maureen to come. The three sisters stood in a wordless circle.

Kacey finally broke the moment. “Where's Dad?”

“He and Annie are at the funeral home,” Bridget told her.

“Annie's here already?”

“She just flew in. We're all here now.”

Kacey remembered Lisa, who still stood by the car, and gave her a wave. “C'mon,” she called. “You remember Bridget and Maureen.” She turned to her sisters. “This is Lisa. Well, Sister Mary John, but really Lisa. I think you've met her.”