Songs without Words (10 page)

Though she had removed herself from the practice of Catholicism after she went away to college, she had started going to Mass here in La Serena after Eliot had gone home. It wasn’t that her faith had been reignited. It was more a case of sharing the culture, traditions and daily life of the locals. She wanted to immerse herself in the authentic life of the village.

It had also made Sister Josephina happy to see her in church on Sunday mornings, and she was finding herself going out of her way to do whatever she could to make Sister Jo happy. That wasn’t hard to do. Sister Jo was a joyful woman, full of love and goodwill. She was the embodiment of what Harper thought a woman of God should be. She lived every day of her life with a passionate zeal for doing good. Sister Jo was a woman in complete harmony with her life.

Harper was ladling beans into the bowls when Sister Jo entered the kitchen looking fresh and cheerful. She was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a blouse, looking much more comfortable than she had earlier. A simple silver cross hung from a chain around her neck. Her short, dark brown hair was damp from her shower.

“Buenos noches, Sailor,” she said to the bird in a loud, cheerful voice.

“Stuff it, Sister,” Sailor responded.

Sister Jo scrunched up her shoulders and grinned with delight, then turned to Harper and said, “So what did you cook for us tonight?” She peered into her bowl, then up at Harper and wrinkled her nose in a comical fashion.

“Poop!” Sailor interjected.

“Don’t worry,” Harper said. “This is the end of this pot. Tomorrow we’ll have the empanadas that Yolanda made for us.”

Sister Jo sat at the table. “Good. Let’s make sure we finish these tonight, then.”

Harper bowed her head as Sister Jo said a prayer of thanks for the meal. Despite her rejection of Catholicism, there was something oddly comforting about starting a meal with a nun saying a prayer. She had always liked the rituals that surrounded this religion—kneeling in prayer, taking the sacrament, making the sign of the cross. Out here in the Mexican countryside, they were far removed from the framework of the Church, far removed from the ideological controversies and the politics. She liked that too. This really did seem like God’s work, helping the poor with the simple necessities of life—food, shelter and clean water. They were too busy with the fundamentals of living here to be worried about the Pope’s official position on the use of condoms or what duties were appropriate for women in the Church. That may have been the reason that Sister Josephina liked being here so much. She didn’t seem particularly bound by rules in general and her attitudes were refreshingly open-minded.

Harper hadn’t seen it herself, but she had heard tell of Sister Josephina taking a glass of mescal now and then. And she danced when she felt like it, at festivals, in a peculiar manner that reminded Harper of a Scottish reel. She had seen that herself the night they had the going-away party for the rest of the American relief team. It was very funny, but Sister Jo didn’t mind being laughed at. She didn’t care why they were laughing, she said. She just liked the sound of laughter.

“Where’s our padre?” Sister Jo asked as she took up her spoon.

“La Crucecita. He’ll be back Saturday.”

“I’ll bet you’re really looking forward to some fancy California food about now,” Sister Jo said, sopping up bean juice with a tortilla. “Maybe a nice thick sirloin steak, huh?”

“Salad is more like what I’m missing about now.”

“Oh, right. Well, it won’t be long, will it? Summer’s almost over. I’ll be sorry to see you go. You’ve been such a help. And so easy to get along with too. If all of the American volunteers were as undemanding...well, I shouldn’t complain. They do help. But they complain too, about the dirt, about the heat, about the plumbing. Not all of them, of course. But, you, I don’t think I’ve heard a single complaint out of you since you arrived.”

“I like living like the locals. Eat what the locals eat. I’ve never been a picky eater anyway.”

“I’ll say so! The night you ate those chapulines, I thought to myself, oh, Lord, this girl is a spunky one! Or else she’s really hungry.”

“Lord!” Sailor squawked, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

Sister Jo cast a furtive glance at Sailor, suppressing a grin. The roasted grasshoppers, the chapulines, were a local delicacy, but one which few of the volunteers would try.

“If you were eating them,” Harper said, “I figured I could. After all, you’re an American raised on mac ’n’ cheese too.”

Sister Jo nodded appreciatively. “True. It’s been a long time, though, for me.”

She stood, picking up Harper’s empty bowl and nesting it under her own. Before taking them away, she put one arm around Harper and squeezed her tight. “You’re a treasure,” she said, then put the bowls in the sink.

After the other volunteers left, Harper had moved into the church. She had been given a small room across the hall from Sister Jo’s. Her host family, after all, had not signed on for more than three weeks. They might have been agreeable to an extension, but Sister Jo had been so enthusiastic about this new arrangement that Harper hadn’t even asked. Since most of her duties were centered around the church, the move made sense. It seemed to suit everyone.

There was no television here. There was a radio, but it only got Spanish-speaking stations, so Harper’s options for evening entertainment were either music on her CD player or reading, and both of those suited her just fine. It hadn’t taken long for the two of them to develop some evening routines. With all of the books coming in for the library, they were well stocked with reading material, so they read to one another. They usually spent the evenings outside on a narrow balcony to escape the stuffy heat of the building. This is where Sister Jo revealed her penchant for a good cigar. Harper had never smoked cigars before and couldn’t say she relished it as much as Sister Jo did, but the practice of sitting side-by-side amid a fragrant haze had become a ritual she treasured.

Harper’s room at the church was small and spare, but she felt that she had everything she needed. She could live like this for much longer than a summer, she thought, and be perfectly happy. As the days flowed on, she felt that more and more strongly.

When her time was almost up, inflamed with a new sense of purpose, she asked Father Gabriel for a chat. He met her in the church office where they sat on either side of an old wooden desk.

“What can I do for you, Harper?” he asked, cupping one hand within the other on top of the desk.

“Father,” she began, “I’ve really enjoyed my time here.”

“We’ve enjoyed having you. I’ve especially enjoyed your piano playing. I know that old piano isn’t what you’re used to, but believe me, it sounds so much better than when Sister Josephina plays it. She tries, poor dear, but, oh, well, it’s been good enough for us all these years, so it will serve very well for many more after this.” He smiled benignly. “Sorry, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, Father. I think I’d like to stay, permanently. I think this is what I’m meant to do.”

He gazed at her for a moment, tapping one finger on the desktop. “Hmmm. Stay and do what?”

“I could teach at the school. I can teach English or music or both. I’m sure I could learn to speak Spanish in no time if I applied myself.”

He smiled thinly. “I’ve no doubt you could. But this is such a big step. You have a life in California, a job, friends. Why do you want to stay, Harper?”

“I like the people. I like the way they live and how happy and friendly they are. They live barely above subsistence level, but they’re so joyful. And, of course, I like the feeling of doing something useful, something where the reward of your efforts is so immediately apparent.”

Father Gabriel scratched his head through thinning white hair. “Well, I don’t know. The problem is that this is a tiny village. The school isn’t going to be able to support much of a staff, not enough to have specialized teachers like you’re suggesting. Sister Josephina is pretty much it.”

“Well, I don’t have to teach then. I can do anything. There must be something I can do. I wouldn’t need to make much money. Just enough to live on.”

“There’s a school near Linares that is much larger. Maybe you could teach there. I think you would be a tremendous asset to them. I know the priest there. I can speak to him about it. I would be willing to recommend you to him.”

“Linares? But that’s hundreds of miles from here.”

“Yes, but the people there are just as they are here. I’m sure you would be able to be just as useful there.”

Harper shifted in her chair, trying to think how to explain to Father Gabriel that she wanted to stay where she was.

“Is there something else that holds you here?” he asked.

“Well, to be honest, Sister Josephina and I have become very good friends. I like working with her. I think we make a great team. She said so herself.”

He nodded sympathetically, then stood and looked out the window for a moment. When he turned back to face her, his expression was serious. “Sister Josephina is very fond of you too. Anyone can see that. And that’s why I think it’s time for you to go home.”

Confused, Harper said, “What? I don’t understand.”

Father Gabriel sighed. “Harper, I’ve known Sister Josephina for a long time. She came here as a young girl, younger than you are now. I didn’t want to tell you this, but I think it’s best that you understand what kind of problem your presence causes us.”

“Problem?”

“Yes. Sister Josephina was sent away from her community in the United States to separate her from one of the novices, a young woman she had become...attached to. That was her choice. I’m sure she would say that she made the right choice. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Harper stared, grasping his meaning. “But, Father, it isn’t like that. We’re just friends. There’s been nothing—”

He waved a hand in her direction.“No, no, I’m not suggesting that anything has happened between you. It’s what
could
happen that I’m concerned about. Sister Jo has a good life here and I think she’s been happy. But it’s a lonely life sometimes. Like I said, I’ve known her for a long time. I’ve seen how attached she’s become to you and it frightens me. If you stay here, I believe she could lose her battle with her personal demons. I want you to consider that, how destructive your presence could be.”

Harper sat silently watching Father Gabriel’s humorless eyes and thinking about the joy she always saw on Sister Jo’s face, a joy she had assumed was present for everyone.

“I had no idea,” she said quietly.

“I can’t make you go, but I hope you will. The sooner, the better.”

Harper returned to her work with a heavy heart. She had thought she’d found something she could build a life around. Or maybe what she’d found was someone, after all. If Sister Josephina were removed from this picture, she had to wonder, would she still want to be here? Since, as she’d told Father Gabriel, she didn’t want to work in Linares, the answer to that was apparently no.

When summer concluded, she took her leave of Oaxaca with a warm hug of gratitude from Father Gabriel and several tearful kisses from Sister Josephina. They vowed to one another that they would keep in touch. Seeing the tears streaming down Sister Jo’s face as her ride rolled away from the village square, Harper hoped that she had not stayed too long after all. She watched Sister Jo growing smaller as the distance between them grew wider, until she could no longer see her at all.

Chapter 8

JUNE 17

Since Roxie wanted to go to the Renaissance Faire as usual, Harper called Joyce, the third member of their trio, to arrange a meeting to plan their program.

“This Saturday, then, my house,” Harper told her. “Bring your tambourine.”

She had become friends with Joyce at the university, where Joyce worked in administration and frequented the library in search of novels to fill in the gaps between the paperback romances she routinely devoured. She didn’t play an instrument, but she sang beautifully.