Waiting to Believe (33 page)

“Kacey, have you heard the news?” It was Lisa.

Kacey relaxed at hearing Lisa's voice but admitted she had heard no news. Lisa told her the whole story of the day's activities in Catonsville, Maryland, where nine Catholic activists had broken into the local draft board.

“They burned 378 draft files to protest the Vietnam War! They hauled them to the parking lot and poured homemade napalm on them. Set them on fire! And they're all Catholics, Kace! Every one of them!”

“But who?” Kacey asked.

“Father Dan Berrigan and his brother Phil. And a couple ex-priests—and get this, even a nun! Well, an ex-nun.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Kacey sank down into the chair alongside the phone. “Well, God bless them,” she murmured. “God bless them!” They spoke a few more minutes, with Lisa giving every piece of information she had gleaned from the television newscast.

When she hung up, Kacey walked slowly upstairs, her mind carried back to the days of ironing habits and veils, the marches she had read about. But those were mostly students. Now, she thought, they're Catholics. Catholic activists. Even an ex-nun. She stood at her window, feeling churning excitement. She thought of her own community, these women, most of whom she had come to respect and love. Would any of them be willing to take such a stand? Carry out such an outrageous act? Would Lisa? No, she wasn't sure even of Lisa.

And what of herself? Could she do it? Would she do it? Not as a
former
nun but as a professed sister? She thought of the irony of the question. Whether she, a person committed to doing God's will, would have the strength to follow her conscience and engage in an act that not only broke the law but violated her vows of obedience.
What
is
the will of God, anyway?

Steven McLeod lingered until his classmates had all left the room. Kacey was erasing the blackboard, conscious of his obvious stalling tactic. She turned from the board and smiled. “Steven?”

He approached her, taking a small bag from behind his back. “This is for you, Sister,” he mumbled as he thrust the bag at her. His cheeks were red. And his ears.

“For me?” She took the bag and sat down at her desk. “May I open it now?”

“Yeah, you know, 'cuz it's almost the end of the year.” He looked down at the floor.

“Well, have a seat, and let's see what's inside.” He sat, his eyes now watching her intently as she opened the bag. Three baseball cards: Harmon Killebrew, third base; Bob Allison, left field; Tony Oliva, right field.

Kacey looked at Steven quizzically. He swallowed hard and then said, “They're my three favorite players of all time. I want to give their cards to you.”

Kacey clutched them to her heart. “Oh, Steven! I can't take them!”

“Yes, you can,” he said somberly.

She remembered the early days after her arrival at Visitation School. The baseball season was ending, and Steven had presented, as his current event, the news that the Twins had blown the chance to become the American League champs. In front of the class, she had told him that she, too, was a Twins fan. It had been a moment of bonding between them.

He had not forgotten. Nor had she. All these months later, he was giving her a love gift. She felt a tightening in her throat, a burning in her eyes. She looked into his earnest young face. “You're right, Steven. I
can
take them, and I'll treasure them always—and I'll always remember you!”

He blinked, then quickly left the room.

55

Wednesday, June 5, hump day of Kacey's last week of teaching at Visitation. Before the bell called the sleeping sisters to wakefulness, Kacey lay wide eyed, running through the list of things yet to be done. She tumbled from her bed, intent on getting to the bathroom before others beat her to the shower.

Her door burst open. “Turn on your radio!” Sister Mary Anselm said excitedly.

Fear gripped Kacey. “What's going on?” she asked as she moved quickly to her transistor radio.

“Bobby Kennedy's been shot!”

“Oh, God! Is he dead?” Kacey asked in a voice so small she didn't recognize it. She twisted the dial, trying to tune in a station.

“No, but it doesn't look good.”

The radio crackled to life. “New York senator Robert Kennedy was shot late last night at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. His assailant was arrested at the scene. Kennedy is in a coma, his condition critical. We'll bring you more details as they emerge.”

More details as they emerge. All the details recently had been staggering, stupefying. King dead at thirty-nine. Now Bobby? The war, that goddamn war, still raging on. How could a person make any sense of it all.

A line from the Scottish essayist Thomas Carlyle popped into her mind. He had railed at the social and political concerns of his day and finally said:

Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.

Kacey turned away from the radio.
Oh, please, God. Please
, she prayed,
let summer come
.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry
. . . Still, Kacey's eyes stung as she stood before her twenty-one students on the last day of class. What a journey they'd been on together.

Pulling herself to her full height, she tried to assume a business-as-usual attitude. “All right, children! We have work to do! First, going around the room, I want each of you to tell me the most important thing you've learned this year. What's meant the most to you.” Hands shot up, and the litany began. One after another, the kids surprised her with the depth of what they'd learned from her. From
her
!

After lunch, all that remained was cleaning up the room and clearing out desks. Eager young students, wanting to please their teacher one last time, washed blackboards.

Finally, Kacey stood behind her desk. As she had done nine months earlier, she reached down and picked up her guitar.

She began to strum and then in her sweetest voice sang to them.

So long, it's been good to know ya. So long, it's been good to know ya.

Her heart melted as she looked out over these children she had come to love.

So long, it's been good to know ya, but I've gotta be driftin' along.

Again,
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry . . .

One last thing before leaving. Kacey phoned Incarnation Convent and asked for Sister Mary Adrian.

“Sister Mary Adrian isn't here,” came the reply. “She's leading a retreat this weekend. Can someone else help you?”

“No, no one. This is Sister Mary Laurence from Visitation. I'm leaving today. I wanted to say good-bye.” The words were inadequate. Kacey was devastated.

Kacey carefully packed her small collection of possessions. She wrapped the summer clothes from the Salvation Army in a couple of her T-shirts and placed her books on the bottom, handling each one lovingly. She wondered if it was a mistake to take some of them back to Blessed Sacrament, but she couldn't bear to part with them.

When her packing was done, she picked up an envelope left for her in the library. The handwriting was not familiar.

Dear Sister Mary Laurence.

I know this is your last day with us, and I can't let you leave without expressing my thanks for your enthusiastic participation in our folk Masses. You added greatly to the spirit of it all. I also want to thank you for your thoughtful responses to my homilies. I've sensed and appreciated your interest and your support.

Wishing you God's blessings,

Fr. Ronn Harrington

What a good, good man.
As she tucked the note back in its envelope, she wished him God's blessings, too.

A tap on her door. Sister Mary Paul stepped in. “Time to go.”

“Oh, Sister, how can I thank you for all you've done for me?” Kacey exclaimed.

“Believe me,” Mary Paul replied, “the pleasure's been mine!” She turned toward the window and saw that Kacey had filled the birdfeeder to overflowing. “Is this something like the Last Supper?” she asked.

Kacey had to laugh. “I suppose it's silly of me. I know they just gobble it up as fast as they can, but it's hard knowing I won't be here to feed them.”

“Don't you go worrying about the cardinal and his missus. They'll be well cared for!”

“But who knows if the next sister to take this room will—”

“
Whoever
takes this room will be a caretaker for the Cardinal. I promise you that.”

Before Kacey could respond, Mary Paul reached down and took one handle on Kacey's small trunk. “Come along now, lift your end. This isn't going to get any easier!”

Kacey knew Mary Paul wasn't referring only to the weight of the trunk. “No,” she said as she lifted her end, “it isn't. Let's get it over with.”

Book 3

56

The station wagon glided to a stop outside the back door of Blessed Sacrament Convent. Sister Mary Joseph called out a good-bye to Kacey from the driver's seat. Sister Mary Paul stepped out with Kacey to help her with the trunk. The trunk felt heavy, but saying good-bye to Mary Paul was the hardest.

“God be with you, dear friend,” Mary Paul intoned solemnly.

“And with you,” Kacey replied, “and the birds of Visitation!” No more words. The station wagon pulled away.

“Can I give you a hand with that?” The familiar voice startled Kacey. She felt an instant bubbling up of joy.

“Lisa! Oh, Lisa, I'm so glad to see you!” They took a step toward one another, their arms involuntarily reaching out—then, as quickly, dropping to their sides. Without speaking, they stood inches apart, soaking up the sight of one another.

Now, in these last months before final vows, the burden of silence was lifted, and the sisters were free to talk. The relief was monumental. There were moments when Kacey thought she would never stop talking, especially to Lisa. So much to say.

Lisa spoke enthusiastically of her year in Mankato. Of her students and the other sisters.

Kacey, in turn, told Lisa stories of her students, of Mary Adrian, and of Cardinal and Mrs. Spellman. She showed her the three baseball cards given to her by Steven.

The delicious days of summer rolled on, and Kacey, content in the comfort of her friend's presence, relaxed and settled into the daily routines. There were still tasks to be done, but the biggest job for the summer was teaching catechism at various Catholic schools in the vicinity.

Kacey and Lisa could barely contain their glee when the assignments were posted and they saw they would be teaching together at Mother of Mary Catholic School ten miles away. “I can't believe it!” Lisa squealed. “I never dreamed they'd turn us loose together!”

“Me, neither,” Kacey responded. “But hold it down, or they might think we're too excited and yank it away from us!”

Turning away from the assignment board, they headed to the chapel for vespers, slipping into a pew together. Lisa bowed her head immediately, and Kacey sensed the intensity of Lisa's prayer. Watching her friend from the corner of her eye, Kacey found herself envious of the power that gripped Lisa, a power Kacey had not seen in her before. It was both humbling and troubling to Kacey. Another instance of observing something which she had never experienced for herself.

“Oh, Kacey,” Lisa exclaimed one evening over a jigsaw puzzle of scenes from
Gone With the Wind
. “Teaching catechism together makes me hope all the more that you'll get assigned to Mankato with me! Just think of the fun we could have!”

“Maybe too much fun! I kinda doubt they'd let that happen.”

“Well,” Lisa replied, “we'll just have to be on our best behavior between now and final assignments.”

Kacey looked up from the puzzle. “You think so? I have some other ideas,” she said slyly. She reached over Lisa's arm and put a piece of Clark Gable's moustache in place.

Lisa looked at Kacey warily. “Whaddya have in mind?”

Kacey reached into the pocket of her skirt, looked around to make sure they weren't being watched, and then pulled out a wrinkled, folded up-flyer. “Look at this,” she said conspiratorially.

Lisa took it in her hands and read:

ROCK ON!

SATURDAY, JUNE 15, PARSON FIELDS IN CHASKA

THE RASCALS! THE TURTLES! THE BYRDS!

ALL TOGETHER! ALL AFTERNOON!

A BENEFIT TO FEED THE STARVING IN BIAFRA!

GIVE GENEROUSLY & ENJOY THE MUSIC!

“Where'd you get this?”

“I pulled it off a telephone pole.”

“Why?”

“Because I want us to go.”

Lisa was stunned. “Are you crazy?”

But Kacey was calm. “Nope. Music has been passing us by, Lisa. And these are three top rock groups in the country, practically in our backyard! We gotta hear 'em!”

“I repeat, are you crazy?”

“We can do this! I know we can!”

Lisa's irritation rose to the surface. “Well, I can think of a few reasons why we
can't
do it. Let's see, for starters, that's the day of the community meeting. Kind of a big deal, I'd say! And after that, I think we might stand out just a bit in our habits, even if they are
modified!
And then, um,” she mocked, “there's the question of transportation. I suppose you'd propose hitchhiking.”

“That's
exactly
what I'm proposing!” Kacey clapped her hands.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Oh, did I fail to mention the cost? We don't have any money!”

“It's a
benefit
, Lisa! There's no set fee. We'll give what we have! They won't turn us away!”

“I don't know about you, but I've got about sixty cents till the end of the month.”

“Then that's what you'll put in the bucket at the gate! They're not going to count it. I've got a little over a dollar, so we'll put in a bill and some change! It'll work!”

“Oh, Kacey, I can't believe this!”

“I've thought of all those things, Lisa. Actually, the community meeting makes it perfect! There'll be over a hundred here for it. We won't even be missed. We can just slip out!”

“Oh, Kacey,” Lisa repeated.

“Really, we can do this! I picked up a couple of outfits for us in Rochester. At the Salvation Army.”

“What?”

“Well, they're not great, of course, but we could change into them once we're away from here, and we'd fit right in.”

Lisa looked at Kacey with incredulity. “How long have you been planning this?”

“I haven't, really. I'm not even sure why I got those things. I guess I was just hoping that sometime before the summer ends, we could, you know, go off on our own for an adventure. We might never have another chance!”

“Oh, this would be quite the adventure, all right!” Lisa exclaimed. The puzzle was forgotten as the two hunched together across the table, the intensity of their conversation growing.

“C'mon, Leesey! One last hurrah before the door slams shut on us!”

Lisa was silent. Then, “How do I know the clothes will fit?”

Now Kacey laughed out loud. She knew she had her. “Believe me! They'll fit well enough!”

Shortly after ten o'clock Saturday morning, Kacey slipped into the pantry, startling Lisa, who was pacing up and down. Kacey lifted a paper bag, waving it. “Our disguises! C'mon, let's make a break for it!”

They scurried across the empty kitchen and warily opened the back door, closing it gently behind them. They sprinted across the driveway and slipped into the evergreens marking its far edge.

Kacey giggled as they reached the street. “So far, so good!”

“Yeah, but now what?” Lisa asked.

“Now we head for the nearest intersection with a gas station, and we change clothes.”

They found a Pure Oil three blocks away, asked for the key to the restroom, and locked themselves in. It was Lisa's first sight of the clothes Kacey had bought. “You've got to be kidding!” Lisa shrieked as Kacey handed her the cutoffs and striped tank top.

“You can have the other outfit if you'd rather.” Kacey held up the madras Bermudas and the fire-engine-red tank top. “Your choice.”

“They both look too small. I can't stuff myself into either!”

“Of course you can,” Kacey scolded. “It's not like I could try them on in the Salvation Army store! Just pick one and make it work!”

Reluctantly, Lisa took the cutoffs and the striped tank, folding her skirt, blouse, T-shirt, pantyhose, and shoes into the bag. As she stepped into the cutoffs, she squealed, “Ick! We don't have any underpants!”

“Well, don't you think we'd look a little ridiculous wearing our pantyhose under our shorts? Quit complaining! You won't die of it!”

“We'll look ridiculous anyway!” Kacey gave her a look but Lisa wasn't quite done. “Did you wash them after you bought them?”

“Oh, sure!” Kacey mocked. “Honestly, do you really think I could put tank tops and cutoffs in the convent laundry?”

They struggled into the cutoffs. Too small. Too small! Lisa winced as she tugged at the zipper. The feeling of the crotch seam against her bare skin immediately irritated her. She tried to wiggle free of the roughness but to no avail. Kacey's reaction was the same. “I never thought about this part,” she said sheepishly.

They pulled the tops over their heads and inched them down to their waists. The shirts clung to them like plastic wrap. Kacey and Lisa looked at one another's bodies, breasts pushing out against the tight, thin cloth. Kacey felt exposed. Naked arms. Naked legs. She was embarrassed and had to look away. Lisa glared at her friend, her mouth a taut line, her jaws clenched.

Finally, Kacey picked up the flip-flops, handing Lisa the Adidas. “No turning back now,” she said, “we've got to face the world whether we like it or not!”

Trying to enter into the spirit of the moment, Lisa gave Kacey a half smile and said, “Well, at least no one will ever recognize us!”

Kacey opened the door and they stepped outside, transformed. Lisa shivered, “Yikes! It's cold!”

Kacey ignored her. “Well, let's get hitchin.'”

Lisa put up her hand, “Okay, but here are the ground rules: First, no two-door cars. There have to be four doors to allow us to escape!”

“Oh, for Pete's sake.”

But Lisa was adamant. “Second, no car where there's more than just one guy in it. The odds have to be in our favor.”

“You'd think we're going into combat!”

“Agreed?” Lisa asked, and Kacey nodded a reluctant agreement.

“Okay. Which way?” Lisa shivered again, but this time, not from the cold.

“We're going south and east,” Kacey said, adding, “I think.”

Lisa did not respond but gave her friend a look as she fell into step.

Within ten minutes, they were riding in a 1967 Oldsmobile hardtop convertible driven by a young insurance agent on his way to meet a client. Stan was a nice enough guy who wasn't very curious about the two of them. Just doing a good deed.

When Stan's route diverged from theirs, they climbed out and began walking again. This time it was Dennis who picked them up in a '68 Chevy Impala. He worked for Pillsbury and was on his way to a sales meeting in Chaska.

“Here's where we part ways,” he said and pointed in the direction they should go.

Jeff, in a '64 Datsun, carried them the last leg of the way. He was a grad student in political science at the University of Minnesota and the most talkative of the three. “So, where ya heading?”

Without missing a beat, Kacey replied, “We're in town for the rock concert. We're down from Grand Marais.”

“Yeah? What do you do in Grand Marais?”

“Oh, we're commercial fishermen. We work the big trawlers on Superior. Salmon. Mostly salmon.” Lisa's eyes got bigger as Kacey spoke.

“Wow!” he responded, incredulously. “I didn't know women could do that! That must be tough work!”

“Tough, oh you bet!” Kacey said. “You don't know the half of it.”

Lisa sat motionless and silent in the backseat. Jeff pulled to a stop at the edge of a vast muddied field filled with cars as far as the eye could see. “You're on your own! Have fun!”

“Have you taken leave of all your senses?” Lisa hissed as Jeff drove away.

Before Kacey could answer, two men on Harleys roared up next to them.

“Heading for the music?” one of them shouted. Kacey nodded her head. “Hop on,” the other called out. “We can snake between all the cars and get you right up front!”

Lisa started to shake her head no as she backed up slightly, but Kacey grabbed her by the arm. “Hey, thanks!” she shouted back.

The men gunned their engines. “I'll take the red one,” Kacey shouted to Lisa, giving her a push. “It goes with my outfit!” But as she approached the big bike, her bravado wavered. This was more than stuffing herself into a ridiculous outfit. How could she possibly sit behind this man, her body touching his, her arms around his waist for safety? It had been a long time since Kacey had put her arms around anyone other than her father and brothers. But even more, the thought of it made her mind fly back to Greg. Holding him. She remembered the smell of him.