Lauren woke to find Gail lying on her side, facing her, with her fingers just touching Lauren’s arm. For the past three nights, they’d fallen asleep holding hands, but nothing more. Yesterday, the other couple staying at the inn had checked out to move on to another B&B on Seneca Lake, leaving one room empty.
“Do you want me to take it?” Gail had asked.
“No.” Lauren had blushed as she blurted it. “Not unless you want to.”
A slow smile had spread over Gail’s face. “I don’t. Want to.”
But she hadn’t pushed for any contact, any intimacy beyond holding Lauren’s hand. Which was a blessing for Lauren, even if she felt guilty.
Lying in bed last night, Gail’s thumb gently stroking her fingers, Lauren had worked up the nerve to ask, “Are you sure you’re all right with this? With us, like this.”
“I am. For now.” Gail had rolled her head on the pillow to gaze at Lauren in the darkened room. “I think we’ll both know when it’s time to take the next step.”
Lauren’s heart jumped. “How will we know that?”
Gail had shifted to kiss Lauren’s cheek. “For starters, when there are only two of us in bed together. Then we’ll know.”
Lauren closed her eyes now. She’s right. I still can’t imagine being naked, making love to anyone but you, Mickey.
Quietly, she stole out of bed and dressed in the bathroom. Downstairs, she heard low voices from the kitchen. Peering around the corner, she saw Mother Theodora shoulder to shoulder with Josie as they kneaded two mounds of dough.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked.
“Not at all.” Josie had a smear of flour across her cheek. “We’re just making our daily bread.”
They both paused the kneading, staring at each other before bursting into laughter.
“Nuns.” Josie shook her head and put her body weight into her kneading.
Lauren smiled and poured herself a cup of coffee. She’d never seen Mother Theodora so relaxed, so worry-free. Whatever doubts she’d had about the wisdom of this little escape had dissipated, though her guilt hadn’t. Sister Isadore had seemed to sense something was up the day before yesterday when Lauren called.
“Mother is getting the rest she needs?” Sister Isadore had asked.
Lauren could hear soft voices in the background and knew she must be speaking from the porter’s office. “She’s getting exactly what she needs.”
There was a beat as Sister Isadore considered the wording she’d used. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“Please tell the community she is praying for them and that she’s better.”
“I’ll do that. And Lauren? Thank you.”
She hadn’t told Mother about that conversation. It had been a couple of days since Mother had asked about the abbey. She and Josie seemed to be making up for lost time, spending hours together in the garden, weeding and harvesting what was ripe. Lauren hated to break up their reunion, but she knew Gail had to get back to Binghamton, and Jim had apologetically informed them that they had reservations for all three rooms for the weekend.
Lauren left them to their kneading and chatting and carried two mugs of coffee out to the front porch, where the rocking chairs offered a panoramic view of the lake below.
When the screen door opened and Gail stepped out, Lauren held out the second mug.
“Thanks.” Gail accepted the cup and sat down. She wagged her head toward the house. “They seem to be getting on.”
“I know.” Lauren smiled and rocked. “I wasn’t so sure this was a good idea after our first visit here, but I’m really glad you helped make this happen.”
“So…” Gail hesitated. “What happens now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Gail twisted in the chair to check that no one was within hearing, “Mother Theodora has had this little taste of the outside world. Her first in more than fifty years. Will she go back?”
Lauren was so stunned at the question that she didn’t know what to say. “Of course she’ll go back.” She stared at Gail. “Won’t she?”
Though she had steeled herself for the inevitability of having to say farewell, Mother Theodora wasn’t prepared for the wave of remorse for all the lost years, for never having seen her mother or brother again, or Felicia or Maggie. For Jacqueline who had died alone. All of it crashed down on her, but not until she was back at Lauren’s, alone upstairs.
From long years of practice at hiding her feelings, she’d held herself together as they packed and said good-bye to Josie and Jim.
Jim had given her a tight hug and murmured, “We’ll see you soon.”
But Josie had hung back, looking guarded again, her face partially averted as she regarded her sister with a sidelong glance. “This is it, isn’t it?”
Mother Theodora hadn’t known what to say. She still didn’t. Upstairs, in her room at Lauren’s, she opened Jacqueline’s Bible to a page that had been marked with a lock of dark hair, tied with a faded blue ribbon. There, a passage was underlined. It was Jeremiah 31:3.
I have loved you with an everlasting love.
The tears she’s been holding back refused to be dammed any longer. She cried for what felt like hours until she finally fell asleep, exhausted and empty. She rolled over when she woke, staring at the ceiling, feeling utterly lost. It was as if she’d lost all will to do anything—move, think, feel. She was tempted to remain there, forever.
Lauren hadn’t disturbed her in the least since their return, but the poor woman must have heard some of the storm that had blown through this room. Mother forced herself to sit up, then to stand. One thing at a time.
She found Lauren reading in the living room, where she could keep an eye on the stairs. She rose when Mother appeared.
“Come.”
Mother allowed herself to be led into the kitchen. Lauren pulled out a chair for her, and Mother sat while Lauren busied herself. A few minutes later, she set two mugs of tea on the table along with two plates, each with a slice of bread.
“Josie’s bread,” Mother said, though her eyes filled again.
Lauren buttered a slice for her and slid the plate over. “Eat.”
Mother nibbled at the bread. “Lauren,” she said when she thought perhaps she could trust her voice, “you’ve been so much more than kind.”
“Nonsense.” Lauren kept her voice soft, calming. “You’ve had a tremendous amount to deal with. Decades of news and losses, crammed into a very small bit of time. That’s a lot to take in and come to terms with.”
Mother nodded. “It is. And I know better than to think one crying jag is going to cure it.” She smirked. “I’m not so naïve as to think you didn’t hear me.”
Lauren gripped her hand. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you think you need quiet and space.”
“You don’t know how much this respite has meant to me.” Mother squeezed her hand and then released it, sitting back to square her shoulders. “But I must go back.”
Lauren’s eyes widened, and Mother laughed. “You thought I wouldn’t?”
“Gail asked me if you would.” Lauren’s cheeks colored. “I don’t mean to be insubordinate—”
“You’re not my subordinate in any way.”
“You know what I mean.” Lauren blushed more furiously. “When I… you helped me through the process of figuring out I was ready to leave. Just know, that I would be here for you, if you needed to explore that possibility.”
“Thank you.” Mother Theodora picked up her mug. “How about we share one last meal together, and then I’ll go get changed.”
“Tonight? Don’t you want to wait until tomorrow?”
“I think perhaps it will be quieter and easier to slip in this evening and simply be there in Chapel tomorrow morning.”
She rose from the table. “May I use your telephone?”
A couple of hours later, Mother Theodora was back in her habit. It felt familiar and odd, all at once. When Lauren pulled up to the abbey’s entry, the door was opened by Sister Isadore. Mother Theodora thanked Lauren one last time, and got out of the car, clutching a bag containing the things she’d collected. She smoothed her habit and walked inside.
Sister Isadore closed the door as Lauren drove off. “Welcome back, Mother.” Her eyes probed, though she asked no questions.
“Thank you, Sister.”
“I’ve made certain the back stairs are empty, if you wish to go to your rooms without being seen this evening.”
“That would be… Thank you.”
Sister Isadore accompanied her to the door of the stairwell. “I trust your time away was restful.”
“It was… restorative.” Mother gave Sister Isadore’s arm a rub.
In her rooms, she glanced around. All was as she’d left it. Nothing here has changed. Only me.
She opened the bag and pulled out Jacqueline’s Bible and prayer book, which she placed on her prie-dieu. The photos and family tree Fred Bauer had prepared for her, she carried to her desk, where she found the original envelope Lauren had brought her tucked into the front drawer.
“Dear Sister Isadore.”
She sat in the armchair, listening to the toll of the bell calling the community to Matins. A moment later, voices rose in song, and Mother Theodora’s lips moved as she mouthed the words she knew by heart.
Gail sat at her desk, tapping her pencil against a mostly blank pad as she tried to come up with something meaningful to say in a sermon this coming Sunday.
“Would you stop that?”
“Hmmm?” Her head jerked up.
“I said,” said Habte, “would you stop that infernal tapping? I feel like I share an office with a woodpecker.”
Gail grinned. “Sorry. Wish Scott hadn’t gone to that conference. I just cannot think of anything inspirational.”
Habte sat back. “You’ve been in a funk ever since you got back from that last trip you took. What’s up?”
“Nothing’s up.” She glanced at the clock. “Don’t you have the women’s prayer group about now?”
“Don’t even try that.” Habte fixed her with the “mom” stare Gail had seen her use with her kids. “Now, talk.”
Gail dropped her pencil. “Oh, Habte, I don’t know what I’m doing. I just spent three days watching two sisters try to heal decades of hurt between them, one of them so filled with regret, it pours off her in waves.”
“That’s the mother superior, right?”
Gail nodded.
“She regrets being a nun?”
“No. I don’t think so. I’ve not spoken to her specifically about this, but maybe Lauren has. I think it’s more that she obeyed a call that has cost her the people she held most dear. She’s amazing. I don’t know if I could do that.”
“What we do isn’t exactly easy.” Habte’s eyebrow arched.
“I know, but it’s different. We’re not called to make the same sacrifices—we can marry, have a family, move about if we wish for a change. She heard a call to a place and a life of prayer that, frankly, I don’t get. But I admire it. I admire her.”
“Speaking of spouses,” Habte said in a not-so-subtle segue, “what’s up with Lauren?”
“What do you mean?” But Gail felt her cheeks flush.
“You said the three of you stayed at this inn. Separate rooms?”
Gail’s blush deepened.
“Ah ha!”
“No. I mean,” Gail corrected, “Lauren and I did share a bed. Mother Theodora took a room by herself, obviously, and the inn’s third room was booked, so… But nothing happened.”
“But you wanted it to.”
Gail dropped her head to her hands. “So badly.”
“And she doesn’t?”
“I think she does.”
Habte sat back with her arms crossed. “I am so confused.”
“Tell me about it.” Gail raised her head just enough to peer at Habte. “I kind of told her nothing could happen while there were three of us in the bed.”
“Oooohhh.” Habte’s brow creased as she tried to recall details. “She lives in the house her deceased partner built, yes?”
“Remodeled, but yeah. The whole house probably reminds her of Mickey. It’s a beautiful place. I wouldn’t want her to leave it or anything.”
“Maybe a change of scenery would be the thing. Without the mother superior sleeping next door. If you want this, if you want her, you may have to stop waiting so patiently.”
Habte stood. “I do have the women’s group now, but if you want to talk more later, let me know.”
“Thanks.”
Maybe Habte was right. Maybe it was time to see if Lauren was ready to take the next step. Are you willing to walk if her answer is no? asked a taunting voice in her head. Gail couldn’t answer.
“I’m not so sure about this.”
“Lauren, relax.” Jennifer reached over to pat her thigh. “I haven’t had a day out for ages. We’re making the most of this.”
Lauren glanced at Jennifer, saw the determined gleam in her eye as she drove, and decided it was best not to argue.
“Mom and Dad have the kids for the entire day, Jamie is meeting with a curator from Albany, and we are going to make a day of it in Rochester.”
She checked traffic as she merged onto I-90. “When was the last time you went shopping, anyway?”
“Um…” Lauren thought. “Well, I bought new boots from L.L.Bean last winter.”
“Catalogs don’t count.”
“What, exactly, are we shopping for?”
“I’m glad you asked. Because it gives me the opportunity to poke a little. How is Gail? Where are things between you?”
“What does that have to do with shopping?”
“Just humor me. Where are things?”
Lauren gazed out the window.
“That’s what I thought,” Jennifer said. “Have you two even talked about… you as a couple? Your future together?”
“Kind of.”
“That’s helpful.”
Lauren snorted. “When we were at the lake, she told me she loved me.”
“What?” Jennifer nearly swerved out of her lane. She quickly corrected the wheel. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.” Only now, in hindsight, did Lauren realize how that must have felt to Gail. “I don’t think she expected me to. Right then. She just said she wanted me to know.”
“How do you feel?” When Lauren didn’t answer right away, Jennifer took her eyes off the highway long enough to glance in her direction. “Do you love her?”
“I think I do, but…”
“But what?”
“I don’t know how to judge. It’s so different from what I felt for Mickey, and that’s the only other time I’ve been in love.”
“How is this different?”
“With Mickey, it was so powerful, sometimes I wasn’t sure I’d be able to breathe, my feelings for her filled me so. But with Gail, it’s more like, she’s the ocean to my shore. Always there, washing over me. I think about her all the time. I miss being with her when we’re apart. But it’s not this overwhelming thing that takes my breath away.”
She shifted to look at Jennifer. “Does that make it less?”
“No.” Jennifer was firm on this. “It only makes it different. I was in love a couple of times before Jamie, but nothing felt like this. I knew him, growing up around Mickey and Alice, but if I’d met him again even seven years earlier, I might have run.” She laughed a little. “Maybe he and Mickey are alike in that way, too. I’d never felt anything so intense. I wasn’t ready to be with someone like him, to have a family, to put down roots. Maybe it’s kind of like that for you. I believe we meet the right people when we need them in our lives.”
Lauren frowned as she thought about this. “She also said… when we talked about… you know, making love…” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this.”
“Who else could you talk to? Come on. Out with it.”
Lauren lowered her hands. “She said we could think about it when there aren’t three of us in bed.”
Far from the hoot of laughter that Lauren expected at this admission, Jennifer swallowed hard, her lips pursed.
“Are you okay?” Lauren asked.
Jennifer nodded. “It’s just that, I thought that might be it. It’s something Jamie and I talked about after you came to us that evening. I asked him, if something happened to me, what it would take for him to feel like he could be with someone new.”
“What did he say?”
“He said one thing that would be hard is being with that new person in an old space that was so full of what had been there before.”
“Exactly. My house is so full of Mickey. It is like she’s still there in many ways.”
“Thus, our trip today.”
“What do you mean? I thought you said we were shopping for clothes.”
Jennifer shook her head. “I said we were shopping, but not for clothes.”
She put on her turn signal and took the next exit.
“Your place is beautiful. You own it outright, and it’s completely set up for your work. You’d be crazy to leave it. But we are going to redecorate.”
“We are?”
“We are.” Jennifer reached for Lauren’s hand. “I will always love Mickey, but it’s time that house reflected you.”