Waiting to Believe (16 page)

“Oh, I feel like
I
should be the one handing out flowers!” Kacey replied. “You kids have been great! Really, I mean it. I've learned so much from you!”

Patsy took the flowers from Kacey. “Let me put them in water,” she said as she headed toward the kitchen.

Lois stepped forward impulsively, bending down to throw her arms around Kacey's neck. “I'll miss you, Mary Larry,” she said softly.

Kacey welcomed the embrace and returned it. One by one, the girls said their private good-byes and then filed out the door, sniffling as they went.

Patsy returned, carrying the bouquet in a large orange juice bottle. “You've got quite a fan club there!” she declared, pouring more coffee into their cups.

Kacey looked wistful. “Oh, Patsy, I loved being around them! I had almost forgotten what it was like to be sixteen and carefree!”

Watching Kacey over the rim of her cup, Patsy said, “I don't imagine you were much older when you were deciding to enter the convent.”

“I was seventeen when I entered . . .” Kacey replied. Her voice trailed off.

“Well, did it occur to you to try to recruit any of these groupies while you had the chance?”

Kacey's eyes widened. “Oh, gosh, no! I'm not a recruiter!”

“Why not?” Patsy countered. “If you're sold on the life, why wouldn't you want others to follow?”

Kacey was flustered. “Well, I don't know. It would be a huge responsibility to try to influence anyone like that. I couldn't do it.”

“What about me?” Patsy asked. “After all our talks, didn't it ever occur to you that I might be ripe for the picking?” She gave Kacey a sly look.

“Patsy! Of course not! What would make you ask such a thing?”

Patsy placed her elbows on the table, lifting her coffee cup to rest against her chin. “Well, I think I'd be a fairly attractive prospect.”

“Are you teasing?” Kacey asked.

“No! No, I'm serious. I've really been thinking about this. When I told you about changing my major three times and not knowing what to do with my life, I sort of expected you to raise the possibility of becoming a nun.”

Kacey's voice was steady. “Wow! I can't think of a more important decision you could make. But as far as I'm concerned, it's gotta come from inside
you
!”
She paused. Then, “Sometimes I'm not even sure why
I
made the choice. How could I try to influence anyone else?”

“But isn't that what you're supposed to do? I mean, I like what you stand for. Your life is appealing to me, so I—”

Kacey cut her off. “Look way inside yourself, Patsy. Don't look to others. If it's right for you, you'll know it by the nagging inside.”

Their eyes met. There was so much more to say and yet nothing to say. They sat in silence. Abruptly, Patsy pushed the bouquet across the table toward Kacey and stood up. She smiled tenderly. “How you gonna explain your wildflowers when you get ‘home' tonight, Sister Mary Larry?”

Wistful, Kacey watched for the old blue bus. The others were still saying their good-byes to the staff, but Kacey had said all the good-byes she could. She knew there came a moment when she had to give herself up to reality. It had been glorious, but it was over.

She sat on a small bench, holding the bouquet in her lap. She didn't know what to do with it. Leaving it behind would have been hurtful to the counselors, and in her own heart, she was reluctant to give it up. It was still perky. Full of life. It seemed to symbolize all that she had risked, all that was exciting in these past weeks. Still, she knew she could not carry it into the convent.

Reaching into the center of the overflowing bouquet, she pulled out a long stem of magenta fireweed.
No
, she thought,
it's too big
. She pulled flower after flower from the jar, holding it, then laying it aside. Finally, it was a white daisy, small but sturdy, that she lifted to her lips and held there, closing her eyes.

She scooped up the other flowers and walked deeper into the woods behind the bench. One by one, she reverently placed the flowers—one on a rock, one on a branch of a fir tree, one in the crook of a gnarled oak, another in a small animal hole—until they were strewn all around. Celebrated and loved, but unseen by others.

She hurried back to the bench and snatched up the daisy. That daisy was going back to Blessed Sacrament with her.

Somber and silent, the other novices approached. Then Kacey heard the chugging of the engine as the blue bus rumbled around the last curve, heading for the camp gate.

Sister Helena was rolling to a stop as Patsy pushed through the door of the administration building. She raced down the path toward Kacey, urgency in her face. “Sister Larry!”

Puzzled, Kacey hung back as the others climbed into the bus.

“What is it, Patsy?”

“I—I just thought you'd want to know: the Twins took a double-header from the White Sox this afternoon. It lifts them out of seventh place and into sixth.”

Breaking all her rules, Kacey put a hand to Patsy's cheek and held it there for just a moment. She could not speak. Turning, she climbed up into the bus, the daisy clasped tightly in her left hand. Sister Helena swung the door closed, let out the clutch, and started down the road.

28

Greg shifted his weight uneasily. He knocked a second time on the Doyle kitchen door. Leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed against his chest, he waited. There was a time, he remembered, when all he needed to do was give a tap and enter without waiting for an invitation.

Drawing up his courage, he opened the door and stepped in. “Anybody home?” The vacuum cleaner in the living room went silent, but the beat of the Rolling Stones still filled every corner.

“Greg!” Bridget ran to him, wrapping him in an enthusiastic embrace.

“Wow!” he replied. Taking her hands, he studied her. She laughed and pirouetted. “Bridget!” he declared. “You've grown into a beautiful young woman!”

Bridget flushed. “Oh, Greg, you're just saying that 'cuz everyone says I look more and more like Kacey!”

He took a step backward, sizing her up. “Well, okay, I can see that. But believe me, you've got your own star quality!”

“Let me turn down the music,” she shouted, “then tell me everything!”

Crossing to the refrigerator, Greg took out a bottle of Grain Belt. He popped the cap and took a swallow of the icy beer, easing into a kitchen chair.

Bridget was quick to return. “You haven't been home all summer, have you?”

Greg took another deep pull on the beer, shaking his head. “No, just got in this week. Only for a few days. My dad's been sick, so I thought I'd give him a cheer-up visit before classes start again.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.” Bridget sat down at the table.

“He'll be okay. His ulcers. It was a good excuse to take off from my summer job and get back to the good life in Minnesota.” He grinned at Bridget. “No walleyes around South Bend. Can you imagine that?”

Bridget smiled, unsure of herself alone in Greg's presence. “Well, that would put a dent in a guy's life.” Standing up, she headed for the refrigerator and took a Grain Belt for herself.

Greg watched her, raising an eyebrow. “Whoa!”

She opened the bottle, her eyes never leaving his face. “I'm seventeen now,” she replied somewhat testily. “You've been away a long time.”

“Right,” he said softly. “Right.” His eyes swept around the kitchen, then through the doorway to the living room. “Anyone else home?”

“Just Mom, somewhere.” There was an edge in her voice. “Dad's at work, of course. Gerald took Joey fishing with him, and Maureen's just plain off.”

He took another swig from the cold bottle. “Oh yeah? I thought I heard someone say they'd seen Kacey. At the golf course.”

“Kacey? Are you kidding? Six more months before she can come home for a visit! Who in the world told you that?”

His face fell. “Oh, I don't remember. I must have heard it wrong. I just thought I'd stop by and check it out.”

Bridget leaned forward. “It's been two years, but you're still hung up on her!”

He said nothing. Bridget's eyes did not leave his face. “Oh, Greg, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a smart aleck. We all keep hoping she'll come back, but nothing so far. I can't imagine she's happy, but how would we know? It's like she's a member of the living dead.”

“Well, get this straight, Bridg, I'm
not
still hung up on her. I just thought I'd catch up with her, ya know? I mean—” His voice broke off abruptly.

They looked at each other, sharing their sadness. Greg reached out and covered Bridget's hand with his own. “You'll get her back someday. One way or another. The same old Kacey's still in there somewhere.”

Pushing the half-full beer bottle away, he stood. “It's been great seeing you, kiddo! You look terrific!”

Bridget rose and reached out to him. “Don't go yet! Dad'll be home in a while, and we've got a new quarter horse. C'mon down to the barn and meet him!”

“Nope. Gotta go. Say hi to everyone for me, will ya?”

“Please wait, Greg! They'll all want to see you!” But he was already through the kitchen door.

29

As Kacey stepped back into her routines at Blessed Sacrament, she struggled with the stark contrast to her unfettered time at camp. The freedom she had experienced at Apple Acres only served now to make her more dissatisfied with the atmosphere of the convent. Walking the dark, lifeless hallways, moving from the chapel to the study to the basement laundry room, her mind drifted back to the smell of pines, the smoke of campfires. She breathed in deeply, trying to recapture the sense of it, but it was gone.

At least there was the relief of completing the year of religious studies. With the coming of fall, their liberal arts classes would begin again, and Kacey couldn't wait to get back to the challenging discussions and the occasional laughter from the instructors.

The wink from Lisa, sitting across the dining hall table at breakfast, gave Kacey a lift. She had missed those quick glimpses she and Lisa had stolen. Now she wondered what message Lisa was trying to convey. She looked at her friend again, and Lisa gave a small nod toward the assignment board on the far wall.

Kacey hurried through the meal, wondering what assignment was waiting for her. She hoped it would be digging potatoes. Every time her pitchfork gently probed beneath the rich, black soil, it was like unearthing hidden treasure.

Instead, she was assigned to all-night prayer vigil at the casket of a deceased nun. She knew of these occasional vigils but had never been called on to take part. The only solace was the name listed beside her own: Sister Mary John . . . Lisa.

There were candles at both ends of the open coffin and others nearby. A dim light in the hallway lit the way out when the vigil came to an end. The rest of the chapel was deep in darkness.

Kacey sat hunched next to Lisa, directly in front of the coffin, heads bowed, hands folded in prayer. From the damp marble floor, a chill oozed through their bodies, beginning with their feet.

“This is spooky,” Kacey finally murmured.

“What's spooky? You've seen dead people before.”

“I know, but this is different. It's a big responsibility to pray over a dead nun.”

“I don't see it as such a ‘big responsibility,'” Lisa replied. “It's like all the other things no one else wants to do around here, so they give them to us because we're the youngest!”

“You've done it before, haven't you?”

“Yep, twice. And I've been a pallbearer twice.”

“I haven't had to do that!”

“Of course not! You're too short. They just pick the tall ones for that job. That'd be me.”

“Well,” Kacey said, “no one told me about these assignments before I signed up!”

“Oh, come on, Kace! This is no big deal. You'll get used to it. Watch, I'm going up to the coffin to touch her!”

Kacey turned to look at Lisa. “Why on earth would you do that? You don't even know her!”

“I know her
name
! Sister Mary Odelia. Old. Old. Old. I think she was a French teacher a zillion years ago. Now she's dead, and no one really cares, but we've got to sit beside her all night and pray for her soul! Wouldn't you think that was already taken care of?”

“Oh, for Pete's sake!” Kacey groaned.

“Watch me,” Lisa repeated as she rose and took the few steps to the coffin. She reached down and placed her hand on the hand of the aged woman, frozen in death. The gnarly veined hand was cool, almost slippery in its waxen state. The nun's rosary was intertwined with her rigid fingers. Her simple gold band, given so many years ago at her final vows, would go with her on her last journey. It was identical to the ones Kacey and Lisa would one day receive. Theirs, too, would stay with them to the end of their lives and beyond.