Waiting to Believe (7 page)

But the voice droned on, emotionless. “The most important thing you will do in the next nine months will be to adopt the contemplative life, the life of prayer. You will learn to pray. You will learn to meditate. You will learn to bow.” Pause. “In other words, you will learn to be a nun.” Pause. “You do not arrive here knowing any of these things, but we will teach you.”

Finally, the bell ended the introductory hour. Before its last echo faded, Mother Mary Bernard crossed her arms in front of her, tucking her hands into the folds of her wide sleeves in one continuous movement.

Kacey watched the fluid motion. She had long been conscious of nuns' movements. There was an otherworldly grace in the way they moved.

But there was another characteristic Kacey had never been able to identify. An emotional withdrawal. Perhaps it had to do with their complete physical withdrawal from the world, down to covering their skin from the eyes of others.

Will this be me in forty years?
She thought as she watched the old nun move away from the table.
My God! Forty years? No! This year! This week! Tomorrow!
Once again, her eyelid began to twitch. Cautiously, she raised her hand to still it.

The fifteen rose as one and began to walk from the room. In the silence behind her, she heard a small voice whisper urgently, “I'm dying for a smoke! Does anyone have any cigs stashed away?” Kacey's head snapped around. She scanned each face, but they all appeared as startled as she was. Debbie Rasmussen, blonde, tanned, had a look of near panic in her wide blue eyes. When Kacey's gaze met them, she shook her head no, and turned back to the front of the line. She felt a sweep of relief. She wasn't the only one coming to this place with baggage.

The bell called them to supper. Kacey was exhausted from being still, from listening intently, from feeling scrutinized. She felt sour and deflated. Perhaps, she thought, in the simple act of eating, strength and perspective would return. More than anything, she longed for perspective.

They did not enter the dining room in single file, but their places at the long tables were identified. The fifteen postulants, six novices who were one year ahead, fourteen senior novices who were two years ahead, and the mistress of novices comprised the group who would be eating meals together from that day on. Thirty-six women in all. Once again, silence prevailed.

Grace was said, the meal served. The savory beef stew with whole wheat bread hot from the oven was a stark contrast to the dark, high-ceilinged room in which it was served. The food spoke of warmth and comfort, but the room gave off coldness. Kacey looked neither right nor left as she placed her napkin in her lap and raised the first spoonful to her lips.

The delicious taste of the stew escaped Kacey as she struggled to swallow the thick mix of beef and vegetables. How many times had she prepared this same dinner for her brothers and sisters, her mom and dad? Carrots and onions pulled from their own garden. Barley, because Dad liked it in his stew. She could hear the chatter around the Doyle table as each spoke louder than the next. Her memories overwhelmed her, and she dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.

She pushed her bowl away. The large tureen was passed down the length of the table, and seconds were ladled into the bowls while a basket of the thick-cut bread was handed from postulant to postulant.
Precision
. That was the word that came to Kacey.
Precision
. The setting sun streamed through the windows, casting playful shadows around a room where there was no playfulness.

When the meal was over, Mother Mary Bernard rose from her place at the head of the table. “We will go to vespers now, and after, you postulants will go directly to the recreation room to acquaint yourselves with its many diversions. You will spend one hour there each evening. This will be your free time, and you will be allowed to converse.” She paused for effect. “You will, of course, use discretion in your conversations, remembering that you are no longer of this world.”

The bell rang, startling Kacey.

Vespers. Kacey relaxed her body and finally gave herself to the exercise of prayer. The chapel was dim and empty now. Single candles offered the only light as the postulants filed in. Kacey drew on all the reasoning that had brought her to this moment, offering herself again to the life that lay before her. The pew was hard, her body tired. The day had been exhausting. She fought with herself, reading the words of the prayer before her:

Father, you allowed Mary to share, in body and soul, the heavenly glory of Christ – grant that we, your children, may desire the same glory . . .

Finally, the bell told her it was over. She had given everything she could. She was drained as she stood and numbly followed the others into the rec room for the first time.

Five library tables, several floor lamps, three lumpy couches, and four oversized mohair chairs filled the large room. A reproduction of Jesus on the road to Emmaus hung on one wall, and a photograph of Pope Pius XII hung above the nonfunctioning fireplace. Near the door, a smaller table was stacked with jigsaw puzzles, several board games, three cribbage boards, and half a dozen decks of worn playing cards.

The door opened, and a stream of older nuns shuffled in. This was the new postulants' first exposure to the other convent residents, the seventy-five or so who made the walk each evening from the larger wing where they lived. They did not share meals with postulants or novices, nor did they participate in matins or vespers with the younger sisters, but all came together for the recreation hour.

“
I'd walk for miles, tears or smiles
. . .” An older sister turned on the phonograph, and the sound of Lefty Frizzell filled the room, singing “Mom and Dad's Waltz.”

Cowboy music? Kacey couldn't believe the nuns listened to cowboy music! The room came alive with quiet activity. A table of four began a bridge game, while three others huddled over a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle of the Great Barrier Reef. Several other nuns sat with mending in their hands, toes slowly tapping to the waltz beat.
“For my momma and my daddy because I love them, I love them so.”

Kacey looked around, searching for a place for herself, panic rising within her. “Could I show you some of the things we have for fun?” Kacey's head snapped around. A tall, slender nun stood before her with what seemed to Kacey an angelic expression on her beautiful face. Her smile was so genuine, her attempt to offer comfort to the frightened postulant, so obvious. “I'm Sister Mary Adrian, one year ahead of you.”

Kacey reached to shake hands, but Mary Adrian stood with her hands in her sleeves. Instead she said kindly, “You look a little lost.”

“Oh, yes. I'm afraid I do feel that way.” Kacey's face reddened. “I'm Sister Kathryn.”

“Well, Sister Kathryn, in spite of what you may be fearing, you'll be having some good times in this room! Do you play poker?”

Kacey had made her first friend. She didn't know why Mary Adrian had chosen to reach out to her, but she was grateful, and a bond was forged that night that would carry Kacey through.

That night in her narrow cot, surrounded by her new sisters, she thought of her sister Annie. Sharing a room again felt familiar. She and Annie had shared both a room and a bed for many years, and after Annie left for college Kacey couldn't get used to having it all to herself. She missed Annie. She missed everyone.
Snap out of it,
Kacey told herself
.

She thought back to Maureen's eighth birthday.

Once again, it had been Kacey who had baked the cake. Kacey's hands had trembled as she placed it before the birthday girl. Devil's food with pink frosting and eight twinkling candles.

The brothers and sisters jostled each other at the crowded table while their parents sat back, watching. Someone started “Happy Birthday to You” and all joined in, harmonizing in a spirited rendition. Kenneth provided a solid bass, and the sound was sweet.

Maureen leaned back, inhaling deeply. Bracing her arms on the edges of the table, she blew hard. Seven candles went out, but before she could take another breath, five-year-old Joseph leaned in front of her and blew at the remaining candle. Hot wax flew onto the oilcloth, solidifying immediately. Maureen smiled shyly, her auburn curls falling down over hazel eyes.

The family clapped and grinned, first at the eight-year-old birthday girl, then at the eleven-year-old cake baker standing beside her. Maureen cut into the cake, awkwardly pulling out the first piece. “It's my favorite! Devil's food!” she squealed.

Rose lit a Chesterfield as the cake was passed around. Taking a deep drag, she waved away the piece set before her. Kenneth pulled the plate to himself, unmasked irritation on his face. Rose met his glance, blowing smoke that wafted across the table toward him. She tapped the ash from her cigarette onto her dinner plate, knowing it annoyed Kenneth, as well as Annie and Kacey, who washed the dishes.

Rose shifted slightly in her chair, just enough to see the Zenith TV in the living room. Through the arched doorway, she glimpsed the black-and-white image of Liberace flickering on the screen. Taking another drag, she washed it down with coffee and waited for the party to end.

Kacey took a bite of the cake she had baked, pleased with the smooth texture. No lumps in
her
devil's food. This was not the first time she had made the birthday cake for one of her siblings. Now she watched her mother and judged that it was time to move the party on.

Joseph helped by sliding off his chair. “C'mon!” he shouted. “Open presents!” The youngest of the Doyle clan, he was still caught up in the magic of childhood. His dark curls bounced as he sprinted across the linoleum toward the living room, spaghetti sauce and cake crumbs spattered across his laughing face.

Maureen took her place in the middle of the davenport, flanked by wiggling Joseph and timid nine-year-old Bridget. Gerald, one year younger than the birthday girl, sat on his head in an overstuffed chair, his legs stretching up against the back with thirteen-year-old Annie on the arm.

Maureen reached for the biggest present in the small pile. “Whaddya think it is, Maureen?” Joseph asked in a hushed voice.

“
I
think it's a raincoat,” offered Annie, who delighted in playing the role of spoiler.

Maureen looked up at her sister with disbelief. “A raincoat? Who'd want a raincoat for a birthday present?”

Kacey's anger flashed at her older sister. She knew it was, indeed, a raincoat, and Annie knew it, too. They had seen their dad wrapping it in his study, clumsily trying to fold it into a box that was too small. A last-minute gesture, the coat had been purchased on his way home from work.

In his own way, Kenneth tried to hold things together, but how was he to know Maureen would have wanted a ukulele, or a baton or walkie-talkies?

“It's red!” exclaimed a blushing Maureen, lifting the shiny coat from its box. A momentary pause. Then, “It's the most beautiful raincoat I've ever seen!”

Annie poked seven-year-old Gerald. “That's not saying much,” she whispered. Gerald snickered and poked her back, grateful to be included in the joke, even if he didn't understand.

But Joseph smiled shyly, “It's really pretty, Maur—much nicer than a party dress.” All eyes went to Kenneth for his reaction. When he threw back his head in laughter, everyone joined in. Joseph was pleased with himself.

Rose leaned against one of the built-in bookcases separating the living room and the kitchen. Her coffee cup had been replaced with a glass of Jameson Irish Whiskey over ice. No one had noticed. But now as she lifted the glass to her lips, Kenneth stood up abruptly, hissing at her under his breath, “For God's sake, Rose! Can't you wait for once?”

Without a word, Rose held her glass toward him in a mocking salute. She raised an eyebrow at his glare and smiled. Shaking his head, he sat down and turned his back to his wife, focusing on the birthday girl.