In This Small Spot (20 page)

“I didn’t know you were a carpenter,” she
said.

He looked down at her from his ladder. “I
didn’t know you were a surgeon.” He climbed down and surveyed his
work. “I’ve discovered it helps to stay busy.”

“So, you’re doing okay?” Mickey asked
tentatively. “You haven’t…?”

“Fallen off the wagon?” he finished for her.
“No. I can’t say this accident of Mother’s didn’t shake me up. It
would have been so easy to… but, I can’t do that to her. She
trusted me, argued with the abbot that I should be allowed to stay
here, even if it means having to have a permanent roommate. I can’t
betray her by drinking again.”

He looked at her. “How about you?”

Mickey gave a half-laugh as she looked
around at the garden in early bloom. “It’s been almost as strange
as it was during the Wendy and Abigail fiasco. People avoided me
then because they were afraid of being found guilty by association,
but now… it’s almost as if they’re afraid to come near me out of
deference or awe.”

He nodded. “It can be lonely, being singled
out, left to yourself. It should get back to normal, assuming you
don’t have to save lives too often,” he smiled.

Frowning, Mickey asked, “Why were you
assigned here? I mean, did you want it? Isn’t it lonelier than
being at St. Dominic’s?”

He bent over, picking up another handful of
nails. “I didn’t want it at first. I was pissed when Abbot Daniel
assigned me here, but…” He looked around the garden and up at the
stone bell tower. “There’s something about this place, something
that’s not present at St. Dominic’s.”

“Women, maybe?” Mickey grinned.

He laughed and Mickey wondered if she had
ever heard him laugh before. “Maybe that’s it. There’s a gentleness
and peace that’s just not there in a monastery full of men. I love
arguing philosophy with Sister Stephen – who has read Plato and
Socrates in the original Greek, by the way – and the day to day
conversations I used to have with Sister Linus, about homely
things, nothing important. It’s like living in a family where I
have seventy-five sisters instead of the five I grew up with. Maybe
that’s part of it.”

Mickey laughed. “I only had one brother. And
every now and again, having seventy-five sisters feels a little
crowded.”

“So,” he held his hands out, “enjoy this
time where they’re leaving you alone.”

When Mother Theodora got back to St.
Bridget’s, one of the first things she did was summon Mickey to her
room. Mickey had never been to Mother’s private room which was
actually three rooms: a larger bedroom than a typical cell, a
sitting room with a desk and, tucked into its own alcove, a small
chapel with a prie-dieu. She found Mother Theodora sitting up in a
chair, in her nightgown with a blanket on her lap and a short veil
on her head. She still looked frail, and suddenly seemed much older
to Mickey than she had ever seemed before.

Mickey knelt beside her chair, taking
Mother’s hand in both of hers. “How are you feeling, Mother?”

“I am being compliant with my doctor’s
orders,” she replied with a wan smile.

“Then it’s worse than I thought,” Mickey
grinned.

“Sit. And stop taking my pulse!”

Mickey laughed and pulled a second chair
closer.

Mother Theodora shifted, wincing in obvious
discomfort. “I don’t know how to adequately thank you,” she said.
“Not only for what you did in the operating room, although I
understand that was quite remarkable, but for being willing to take
the risk of failing.” She looked kindly into Mickey’s eyes. “There
really is a light that beckons.”

In a rush of emotion, Mickey fell to her
knees again, pressing her forehead against Mother Theodora’s knee
and clutching the blanket. “I could feel you,” she whispered, “I
knew you were on the cusp of making that choice. I was so terrified
you would leave.” She felt Mother’s hand on her head.

“I know you were, child,” Mother said
softly. “I couldn’t do that to you, although I was quite willing to
go.” She grasped Mickey’s shoulders. “Please sit, Mickey. I want to
know how things have been for you since you got back.”

Mickey resumed her seat, wiping her eyes.
“It’s been… strange. Sister Scholastica apologized to me, but I’m
afraid I wasn’t very gracious about it. I basically told her it was
meaningless unless it was prompted by a change of heart.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed as she considered her
next words. “Sister Scholastica very nearly became Abbess when
Mother Benedicta died. It took eleven votes before I was elected,
and I think she was truly crushed not to have been chosen, although
why anyone would ask for this is beyond me. She has always felt
that I am too liberal, and she feels the need to be vigilant to
safeguard the abbey. It may be small comfort to you, but I believe
she truly thought, probably still thinks, that you represent a
threat to religious life.” Mickey nodded resignedly. “How about the
others?”

Mickey shrugged. “They’re behaving a little
oddly, but…”

Mother smiled. “Things will return to
normal.”

“That’s what Father Andrew said.”

“On a different note, have you been
contacted by Millvale General’s administrator?”

Mickey laughed. “Oh, yes. He was hovering
around the recovery room waiting to talk to me, but Greg wouldn’t
let him come in and disturb you. He is so afraid you may sue them
for permitting an unlicensed, out-of-state surgeon to operate on
you. I told him he should be more worried about being sued over not
having the ER adequately staffed.”

Mother smiled. “Yes, he sent flowers. He has
been very solicitous. Poor man. It must be terrible to live in such
a constant state of distrust.”

Mother shifted again with a grimace of pain,
and Mickey insisted she get back in bed and rest. She helped get
her settled as comfortably as possible, and left as Sister Mary
David came in to check on her. As she walked down the corridor,
back toward the Chapel, Mickey paused to look out a window. The
trees were just beginning to bud, waving tiny leaves in the spring
breeze.

Even Sister Anselma was different, although
Mickey suspected it wasn’t for the same reasons as everyone else.
Every time she looked at Mickey since her return, she seemed to get
the same flush to her cheeks she’d had in the hospital. For her own
part, Mickey had found that she was disturbingly aware of how
beautiful Sister Anselma was.

She shook herself from these thoughts.
“Mother is right,” she told herself, “this will pass. Things will
return to normal.”

╬ ╬ ╬

Greg Allenby began making weekly trips to St.
Bridget’s. He brought medical supplies to Sister Mary David,
including things he knew Mickey could administer, such as suture
kits and IV bags of saline. He began seeing some of the sisters as
patients for minor injuries and check-ups. He usually found time to
visit with Mickey, and she got the feeling he was enjoying his role
as the abbey’s physician. He also took over Mother Theodora’s
post-operative care, which Mickey welcomed now that Mother was out
of danger. It had been difficult being a very junior subordinate of
the Abbess one minute and her physician the next. Every time Mother
Theodora tried to talk to Greg about payment, he would laugh and
tell her he was putting it on account. “Who knows?” he would say,
“I might need to make a withdrawal someday.”

Things did begin to return to normal for
Mickey as predicted. The most notable exception was the three new
novices; though they had been open and talkative in their first
weeks in the Novitiate with Mickey and the others, now they just
couldn’t seem to get past their intimidation whenever they were
asked to participate in group discussions in front of Mickey. “This
is getting us nowhere,” Sister Josephine said in frustration, but
she couldn’t find anything that would prompt them to speak up.

In June, Sister Regina needed their help
again with the first hay cutting. The six novices and two new
postulants all went out to stack and store the bales. Mickey and
Sister Kathleen were on the wagon stacking the bales as they were
tossed up by the others. Sister Kathleen was a tiny woman, maybe
five feet tall and Mickey guessed about ninety pounds. This was
hard work, but she wasn’t complaining. They wore gloves to protect
their hands as they grasped the bales by the binding wires on
either side and, together, tossed them into position. Sister
Kathleen had grabbed her side of a bale and, as she and Mickey
tossed it on top of the stack, her glove got caught on the wire.
The weight and momentum of the hay pulled her over.

“Oh my gosh! Are you all right?” Mickey
asked, rushing over to see if she was okay and help her untangle
herself.

“I’m fine,” Sister Kathleen said, brushing
herself off.

“I wish we had a video of that,” Mickey
laughed. She stood up and was just starting to turn back to Jessica
and the others on the ground when a bale hit her in the chest,
knocking her backwards. She tripped over the bale behind her and
fell head over heels, landing with her legs sticking straight up in
the air, her skirts around her waist.

Sister Kathleen was laughing so hard, she
had to sit down on another bale. “No, I wish we had a video of
that!” she giggled.

In a few seconds, all the others were
doubled over with laughter also. Sister Regina turned around on St.
Jude and saw a trail of bales behind her, still on the ground as
the juniors wiped tears off their faces. Mickey was laughing, too,
still sitting with her butt stuck between bales.

“Well, I never!” Sister Regina exclaimed
indignantly. This just make them laugh all the harder.

The next day, they were still giggling about
how ridiculous Mickey had looked. After that, getting them to talk
in Sister Josephine’s discussions was not a problem.

What was a problem was Tanya. Mickey had
been so pre-occupied with Mother Theodora’s accident that she had
forgotten about whatever was bothering Tanya, so it had been with
some surprise that she saw how Tanya’s surliness had increased
while she was away. During their discussions of vows with Sister
Josephine, she was stubbornly silent. Finally, even Sister
Josephine was at her wit’s end. She asked Jessica and Mickey to
speak with her. “I just can’t get through to her,” she said in
frustration, “but you three are closer than most after all you’ve
been through together. Please try.”

Mickey and Jessica walked Tanya up to the
cemetery one afternoon so they could talk privately.

“Won’t you tell us what’s wrong?” Jessica
asked.

Tanya stared at the ground, refusing to look
at either of them. Jessica started to reach her arm out around
Tanya’s shoulders, but Tanya quickly pulled away. “Don’t touch me!”
she snapped.

Jessica jerked her arm back as if burned.
Tanya quickly apologized. “It’s not you…” She let out an
exasperated breath. “I need a good fuck!”

Jessica put a hand to her mouth in genuine
shock at this outburst. Mickey coughed as she choked in her
surprise.

“How old are you now, Tanya?” she asked.

“Twenty-eight. I’ll be twenty-nine in
October,” she answered sullenly, mashing an acorn under her
heel.

“Just a guess,” Mickey said, “but are you
wondering if you wouldn’t rather be married, raising a family?”

Tanya surprised them again by bursting into
tears. They let her cry, guiding her to a bench and sitting with
her.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with that,”
Mickey said softly.

“But,” Tanya hiccupped, “I’ve wanted to be a
nun all my life.” She sniffled a few times. “And Wendy and Abigail
–”

“– were jerks,” Mickey finished for her. “No
one was upset because they left. It was the way they left and what
they tried to do after.”

Jessica bravely reached out to Tanya again,
and this time Tanya let her. “No one will think anything bad about
you if this isn’t where you feel you’re supposed to be,” Jessica
said gently.

“But I’d miss you two so much,” Tanya
protested weakly.

“We’d miss you, too. But that would be eased
by knowing you’re happy,” Mickey pointed out. “And you’ve got to
talk with Sister Josephine.”

Tanya nodded, sniffing. “I know. I’ve been
horrible to her.”

“She’s worried about you.”

Tanya pulled them both to her for a group
hug, and they walked back down the hill. As they walked, Mickey
caught Jessica’s eye and she knew they were thinking the same
thing: their group of five looked as if it might soon be whittled
down to two.

Chapter 26

“Would you mind if we went home for Dad’s
birthday?” Alice had asked. Charles and Edna Worthington still
lived in the family home in Orange, Virginia. Alice and her seven
siblings and the spouses and children of those who were married all
came home for that birthday. No one said it out loud, but they all
knew it would probably be the last time they would all be
together.

Alice hadn’t complained once, so Mickey had
taken to asking her frequently if she was in pain. By choosing not
to have chemotherapy, Alice hadn’t gotten really sick, though the
cancer was wasting her physically. She had had enough energy to
visit friends and places that were special to them. But Mickey
could tell the pain was getting worse, despite Alice’s constant
good mood.

Mickey had hastily arranged for an extended
leave from teaching and from the practice after Alice’s diagnosis.
She knew it was a matter of weeks. She watched Alice laughing and
talking with her mother as they iced Charles’s birthday cake.
Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes, and she had to go outside for
a few minutes to get her emotions under control.

Jennifer followed her. She didn’t say
anything, just slipped her hand into Mickey’s and walked with her.
Mickey felt, had always felt, that Alice’s family had embraced her
as one of their own. She’d known Jennifer for more than half of
Jennifer’s young life.