Waiting to Believe (6 page)

Kacey awakened before five. She felt pinned to the bed by a sense of loss. Finally she rolled onto her side, eyes wide open. She dare not lie here for long. Her fears might run away with her.

Crawling out of bed, she did something she could not remember doing before: she sank down to the floor and knelt to pray. But the petitions would not come. Not even a “Hail Mary” or an “Our Father.” She fidgeted. The floor was hard on her bare knees
. Concentrate! Concentrate!

She could not pull up the joyful anticipation she thought she should be feeling. Instead, she heard the early murmuring of the doves, the repetitive phoebes, and the cardinals with their insistent “listen to me” call. She could smell the dew on freshly cut grass. Life here had not been perfect, but it was home.

She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her folded hands. Her prayer became a question.
Oh, God! Am I doing the right thing?

Book 2

11

“It looks like a prison!” Joseph cried out as the Doyle station wagon turned up the long, curving drive of Blessed Sacrament Convent.

As Kacey approached her new home, she remembered the last time she'd moved, and how anxious she'd been—how anxious all of them had been, except for her father.

She was ten when they'd left their rental in Minneapolis to get the first look at their new farm. Her father had been driving nearly an hour, out Highway 12, past Lake Minnetonka and the spattering of small shopping centers dotting the western suburbs. Still he drove, now through occasional cornfields. The 1955 Ford station wagon was hot and stuffy carrying the eight of them. Kenneth's cigarette smoke hung in the car, mixing with Rose's Tabu.

“How much farther, Dad? Aren't we almost to Canada?” Young Kacey complained.

Kenneth shot her a small smile in the rearview mirror. “About five minutes, honey.” The children knew the tone, and Annie gave Kacey a small kick on the shin.

Fifteen minutes later, he swung off the highway onto a county road marked “GG.” He slowed his speed to accommodate the loose gravel stretching ahead. The clench of Rose's jaw increased with every mile. Three miles now on the dusty road. They had not seen one house since turning off the highway. An unplanted field rippled with weeds on one side of them. Small, water-starved stalks of corn struggled on the other.

Finally, Bridget could not hold back. “Is this a joke, Dad?” she questioned from the rear of the lumbering station wagon. Kenneth did not reply.

One more turn to the north, and the road smoothed out into a long driveway. Rose could see a white clapboard house ahead, tucked into the heavily wooded landscape. Apple trees lined the driveway. Farther back into the woods stood silver maples, gnarly oaks, Norway pines. An occasional stand of paper birches.

Kenneth slowed the car as he came to a turnaround in front of the house. Three stories tall and square, the structure loomed over them. The Doyles sat in the car, staring in silence. The white paint was chipped, flaking in spots. Some of the boards had a bluish tinge, betraying years of unforgiving sun and neglect. A faded, overstuffed chair sat on the wraparound porch that spanned the width of the house. The screen door slapped against the door frame as a burst of wind caught it.

Still, no one spoke. Kenneth swung open the driver's door. “I'll grant you, it isn't the best looking house right now. But my God, look at the size of it! Think of all the bedrooms!”

Annie and Kacey turned to each other with an astonished meeting of the eyes. Annie pushed Kacey to open the door and get out. “It looks like the set of a horror movie!” Annie whispered. One by one, all six children tumbled out. Rose sat motionless in the front seat.

Kenneth made an impatient sweep of his arms, hurrying the others toward the porch. “For Christ's sake,” he yelled, “don't be so shortsighted! This place has great potential!” He yanked Rose's car door open, pulling her out by her hand. “I can see it, Rose! I can see it right now!”

Shading her eyes from the unrelenting sun, Rose took in the sight before her. Behind the house, a yellow barn leaned to the west. Off to one side was a corral, intact. Kenneth headed for it. “C'mon, c'mon!” He continued to urge everyone along. “Hey, Joseph, look here!” He reached for his youngest son. “How'd you like me to buy you a pony for this corral?”

Joseph squealed with delight. “A pony!” he shrieked.

“Oh, Kenneth,” Rose murmured. He was too far ahead to hear.

But her father had been right. They loved that house.

Kacey willed herself not to be shortsighted; to see the potential in her new home, the convent. It wasn't easy. The grounds surrounding the building were trimmed with precision. Only gnarly oak trees broke the wide expanse of grass. A tumbling spirea hedge marked the far end of the property. There were no flowers, Kacey noticed. And no people.

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!