Waiting to Believe (40 page)

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.

They both knew that their talking would not change anything, still they had to each go over it once more time. Then after a long pause, Lisa spoke. “Have you called your dad?”

“No. I've decided not to.”

“How are you getting home if you didn't let him know?”

Kacey gave Lisa a tender smile. “I'm gonna hitchhike.”

Tears once again flooded Lisa's eyes. “Oh, Kacey, I love you!”

“I love you, too.” They grabbed each other in a tight embrace. At last, Kacey broke away. “Okay, Leesey, it's time.” She wanted to reach out and hold her one more moment, but she knew she could not. “Bye, Leesey.”

“Bye, Kace.”

Stifling sobs, Kacey turned and made her way back to her room. She grabbed her bag and without looking left or right, closed the door.

Once outside, she had to pass the chapel. The sisters were still practicing:

Guardian Angel from Heaven so bright.

Watching beside me to lead me a right . . .

Wiping her eyes, she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and began to walk down the long driveway. The call of the outside world grew stronger with each step, and, to her amazement, she began to sing:

It's a beautiful mornin',

I think I'll go outside a while,

And just smile.

Just take in some clean, fresh air, boy!

Ain't no sense of stayin' inside . . .