Waiting to Believe Page 5

  Kenneth eased the wagon alongside the curb. The children piled out, but, then waited, uneasy, standing in the brilliant fall sunshine.

  Kenneth pulled open the rear door. Lifting out the small trunk, he thought, what an insignificant container to carry someone from one life to another.

  Rose rummaged in her purse and pulled out a small leather address book. “Here, honey, you almost forgot this! You left it on your dresser.” She held it out to Kacey, who made no attempt to take it.

  “I didn’t forget it, Mom. I don’t think I’ll have any use for it.”

  “Well, you never know—”

  “Yeah, I do know.” Irritation crept into Kacey’s tone.

  Kenneth gave Kacey’s shoulder a squeeze, then guided her forward. “Here you go now, girl! On to this great calling!” She gazed at him with a blank expression.

  Reaching the massive entry, she pulled open the heavy oak door, turning back to make sure her family was following. It was inconceivable that she would be expected to enter that great doorway alone.

  Rigid with apprehension, she crossed the threshold, stepping out of the radiant sunshine. One by one, the family followed. And then the door closed behind them, and Kacey felt swallowed up.

  It was called the great room and though it was large, no signs of comfort were obvious. At the floor-to-ceiling windows, heavy burgundy velvet drapes were pulled shut, locking out the sun. The rich brown-papered walls were bare save for a framed painting of the Annunciation hanging over the deep-set fireplace. Furniture was sparse. Several straight-back chairs were lined up against one wall. A green sofa and an overstuffed chair of an undistinguishable color were angled out from the fireplace, and a brooding, bronzed crucifix hung over a desk. A few floor lamps, all turned to the lowest setting, were scattered around the room. An austere, lifeless room, Kacey thought.

  Here and there, a few girls her age were gathered with their families in tight, little pockets. Black-clad nuns glided from group to group. Still, there was almost no sound.

  “Kathryn Clare! Welcome!” Kacey whirled around. She had not expected to be greeted by her beloved music teacher, Sister Mary Evangeline. Kacey’s smile was immediate. “Oh, Sister Evangeline!”

  Kenneth reached out and extended his hand to greet the nun so well-known to his family. Even the boys brightened at the sight of her. She received Kenneth’s handshake, then Rose’s.

  She smiled with assurance as she motioned toward the chapel. “Come, come! The welcoming service is about to begin!”

  The chapel was a few steps down the hall from the great room. Kacey peered through the open doors at the long, narrow room. Intricate stained glass windows on one side brought in muted light.

  Kacey began to follow her father when Sister Evangeline touched her arm. “Come, Kathryn Clare. Take your place with the other postulants.” And Kacey fell in line, somewhere in the middle of the fourteen other young women, each appearing as apprehensive as she. There was one, Kacey saw, whose hair was almost the same color as hers, but her face was flushed red and mottled. Kacey accidentally stepped on the heel of a brunette directly in front of her. The brunette turned her head abruptly, giving Kacey a withering look. Kacey mouthed “sorry,” and the brunette softened and smiled back. One by one, they entered the front pew.

  All attention now focused on the imposing figure of the bleeding Christ hanging before them on a rough-hewn wooden cross above the altar.

  And then, rising from a high-back chair at the feet of the pinioned figure was the tallest woman Kacey had ever seen. She couldn’t distinguish where the nun ended and Christ began. The sight appeared as one elongated, dark figure. Something from an El Greco painting, Kacey thought.

  “In the name of Christ, I welcome our new postulants and their families to Blessed Sacrament. I am Mother Mary Agnes, mother general of our community.” Her lips parted slightly and turned up at the corners, but she did not show her teeth, and Kacey felt no warmth.

  Kacey went through the motions of giving attention. She had to steel herself to keep from looking toward the rear of the chapel. She longed to see the faces of her family. She was gripped with a new fear. What if she forgot their faces?

  The service was brief. The small congregation filed back to the great room to say their final good-byes. Kenneth motioned to Rose to step forward, but Rose slipped to his side. Finally Kacey came to her mother. “It’s time, Mom. Take care of yourself. Don’t worry about me.” She embraced Rose.

  “Just remember, Kacey—”

  Smiling, Kacey put a finger to her mother’s lips. “Shhhh.”

  One by one, the good-byes were spoken. Then, too soon, Kacey heard the bell. The mistress of novices, Mother Mary Bernard, clapped her hands one time. All eyes were instantly on the stern-looking nun. “You have just learned your first lesson as postulants,” she declared. “From this day forth, the ringing of the bell will represent God’s will for you. You will give in to it immediately. Yield fully to its command. You are to stop what you are doing, stop what you are saying, and stop what you are thinking.” Her voice was deep and without inflection, but its effect on the frightened girls was profound.

  On this first day, the bell commanded them to turn from their loved ones. To turn and not look back.

  Kathryn Clare was now a postulant in the Community of the Blessed Sacrament.

  12

  Mother Mary Bernard’s eyes moved from girl to girl. “You will follow me now, to your dormitory rooms.” They did so, walking in silence. Kacey felt her knees trembling. Tears slipped down her pale cheeks.

  In the midst of the others, Kacey sensed the eyes of Mother Mary Bernard on her alone. Self-consciously, she tried to brush away the tears. But now her right eyelid began to twitch as she moved past the dining room, past the study room, to the door of a room where a single, unshaded light bulb hung from the ceiling and five wrought iron beds lined the wall, each with a small pine bedside table.

  “This is the first of our three dorm rooms,” the nun announced. “We’ve assigned beds to you. Listen for your name as I call them off.”

  Perspiration beaded on Kacey’s forehead. A deep churning in her stomach grew more intense. Suddenly she realized she was being summoned. Sister Kathryn. Oh yes, she was now Sister Kathryn and would be until she completed her postulancy.

  “Sister Kathryn? Where are you? Come forward.”

  Kacey pushed through the group, raising her hand. “Here, Mother Mary Bernard! I’m here.”

  “Bed four. And let that be the last time I have to call your name twice. You are here to listen. To listen and to learn. You cannot afford to have your mind wandering off. Do you understand me?” Rat-a-tat-tat. The words ricocheted violently inside Kacey’s head.

  “Yes, Mother Mary.” She stepped to the foot of bed four. Now she allowed her eyes to sweep the stark white room, the most sterile room she had ever seen. Five women in a room with, she noticed, no closets.

  The remaining ten postulants were continuing across the hallway to the next room where the routine was the same. Finally, all fifteen stood at attention at the foot of their beds while the mistress of novices spoke from the middle of the hallway. “Use this time to change from your old clothes into your religious. The bell will call you to the study room shortly. We’ll begin our studies immediately. And remember, silence is the rule!”

  As Kacey opened her trunk, she was confronted by the mistress, who came to stand directly in front of her. “Sister Kathryn, I’m not pleased to see your tears. I’m telling you this one time to cease crying. Your family is gone. Your old life is gone. There is no room for tears in your new life. No reason for them. They must stop immediately!” The brusqueness of the voice left a hissing sound in the air. Kacey could feel the heat of the words in her face.

  Swallowing her tears, she murmured, “Yes, Mother.” The mistress turned and swept from the room, like a sailing ship
under way.

  This is okay . . . I can do this . . . Kacey repeated again and again as she changed into the clothing of her new life. There were no mirrors in any of the rooms. Just as well, Kacey thought as she tucked the black blouse into the black skirt that would be her uniform for the nine months of her postulancy. She held the small black cape in her hands for a moment before placing it over her shoulders and snapping it closed. It completed the austere, shapeless costume. The black clodhoppers, as Maureen described them, went on last. She felt foolish.

  Once in the study room, she looked around at the others, replicas of one another except for individual frightened faces. Mother Mary Bernard stepped to the head of a long table. There was absolute silence. “We will have one hour together now, before vespers. We will use this time to introduce you to the life which lies before you, to tell you what to expect in the days and weeks ahead.” Kacey studied the face of the mistress of novices intently. Let me see an inkling of tenderness, she prayed. Let me see a glimpse of joy that we have chosen to be here!

  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.