The field surrounding the gazebo was alive with birdsong as Lauren prayed. The first sounds of chant from the abbey had faded away some minutes before, but still, she sat with Kyrie curled up in her lap, trying to sort the conflicting emotions crashing within her.
No one had ever made her feel the way Mickey had—such an incredibly powerful and passionate love. The emptiness, the hole left in her heart when Mickey died had been so all-encompassing, she’d been certain she’d never be able to love anyone again. Not like that.
“But this isn’t like that,” she whispered.
Her feelings for Gail—she wasn’t ready to call it love—weren’t the kind of thing that could sweep her off feet. This was quieter, calmer, in some ways more soothing than the tidal wave that had been Mickey. But somehow, that made it harder to figure out. What was this thing that was growing between them?
When she and Gail kissed, when Gail held her… oh, how she ached to be touched, to be wanted. But Gail seemed content to leave it at kisses and embraces. After they’d returned from the B&B, they’d planned for Gail to spend one more night here before returning to Binghamton. There had been a moment, as they kissed goodnight, when Lauren had nearly invited Gail to her bed, but before she could, Gail had backed out of her arms and gone upstairs. If she were honest, Lauren had been relieved as she lay in bed alone, not to have to put a name or label on her feelings or their relationship. Not yet.
She got up and stretched. The pre-dawn mornings were still chilly enough for a jacket, but she unzipped it as she trekked down the hill. Kyrie followed with non-stop chatter.
“I know you’re hungry,” Lauren said. Her own stomach growled. “So am I.”
She scooped some fresh cat food and then turned to her own breakfast. Sitting at the table a few minutes later with a bowl of Wheaties—far from the fare they’d been treated to at the inn—she flipped open the folder she’d brought home.
Josie had given them a few original photos, and had scanned others—what a marvel those machines are—of the Horrigan family: Patrick and Marie, such a handsome couple; Garrett, so like his mother; Josette, the youngest; and Patricia, a blend of her parents. Like the high school photo Fred had found on-line, these photos of Patricia revealed a vivacious young girl and then woman, laughing, picnicking, swimming. Lauren was fascinated, trying to reconcile the woman she knew as abbess with these images, and she realized, she knew only the surface, the façade, of Mother Theodora.
She sat back. “But that was appropriate, wasn’t it?” she murmured aloud. As Sister Anselma, she hadn’t been privy to the abbess’s private thoughts, her true feelings on matters, and certainly hadn’t been her confidante. “Does she have one?” Lauren wondered. Someone she could open up to completely? Remembering what it was like at St. Bridget’s, she answered her own question.
The telephone rang. She hurried to answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, you’re up.”
“Morning, Jenn. Yes, I’m up.”
“Gail’s gone?”
“Yesterday.”
“How was the trip? Where’d you go?”
Lauren glanced at the table. “Can I come over? I have some things to show you.”
“I’ll put a fresh pot of coffee on.”
Lauren gathered up the folder and hurried out to the car. By the time she got to the Stewart house, Jamie and Michele had left for school.
“Shhh.” Jennifer pointed up. “The twins have gotten into a sleeping-in pattern. We have an hour if we’re lucky.”
They sat in the kitchen with coffee and an apple crumble made the day before while Lauren filled Jennifer in on the last few days.
“So she really is Mother Theodora’s younger sister?”
Lauren nodded. Jennifer leaned over the photos again, just as captivated as Lauren had been.
“And they haven’t spoken since when?”
“1966. When their father died.”
Jennifer pressed her hand to her heart. “That is so incredibly sad. To have to make that choice.”
“I know.” Lauren slid nearer a picture of Patricia, dated 1960, standing with a friend, both of them in shorts and sleeveless blouses. “This would have been not long before she entered. I’d give a lot to know what she felt, what led her to her vocation.”
Jennifer looked at her. “What are you going to do with all of this?”
“I’m not sure.” Lauren stared pensively into her cup. “Josie was so angry when we first blurted out why we were there. She’s still so angry and hurt. Mother might be just as angry, just as hurt. I don’t know what to do.”
“Won’t her jubilee be coming up soon?”
“Yes,” Lauren said. “They’re planning for a late summer celebration. August.”
“You think Josie will come?”
“Not sure. She wasn’t as angry by the time we left, but… I don’t know.”
“Bigger question is,” Jennifer added, “should it be sprung on Mother Theodora as a surprise?”
Normally, the sustained notes of the organ and the beauty of the chant soothed her, but Mother Theodora almost winced as the organ music seemed to slice through an already aching head. With Lauds and Prime over, she decided to skip breakfast and go straight to her office. Word about Tapestry House had spread, and she had more requests for bookings than they had space. Plus, many of the groups hoping to have retreats there were also looking for a retreat director.
The Council had discussed the possibility of asking for one of the sisters to volunteer to take that position, but the consensus had been that it wasn’t proper to divert someone to have to deal with outsiders on what would clearly be a full-time basis. The discussion had been tabled with the proposed question of possibly hiring someone to be further debated at the next meeting.
She took her glasses off, rubbing at her forehead and pressing her fingers against her eyes. If only the pounding would stop.
Slipping the glasses back on, she tried to focus on the blurry handwriting in front of her. She telescoped the letter to find a distance where she could read it.
“I’ve got to get my eyes checked,” she muttered, before remembering that Sister Mary David had reminded her just last week that it had been nearly four years since her last eye exam, and over a year since her last physical.
She jotted instructions for Sister Anastasia and paper-clipped them to several inquiries. Getting up to walk them over to the office next door, she swayed and had to grab the corner of the desk to steady herself. When the dizziness had passed, she set the bundle of correspondence on Sister Anastasia’s desk.
She briefly considered hurrying to the refectory to get a little something to eat before the kitchen workers cleaned up, but the telephone rang.
“St. Bridget’s Abbey.”
“I—Mother Theodora? Is that you?”
“Lauren. How nice to hear your voice. I just happened to be near a phone. What can I do for you?”
“I wondered if I might come out to see you for a few minutes. It doesn’t have to be today,” Lauren hastened to add.
“Today is fine. Can you come during the afternoon work period? I’ll have some news to share with you.”
“Really?” Lauren sounded a little startled. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
The remainder of the morning passed quickly, and Mother Theodora did force herself to eat some lunch, though by then, her headache was making her feel a little queasy. Sister Mary David, eagle-eyed as always, approached her as she was leaving the refectory.
“Another headache, isn’t it? Don’t even bother trying to deny it,” she added when Mother opened her mouth to protest.
She held out a hand. “You are to take two of these and go lie down.” She closed Mother’s hand over the bottle of tablets and said more gently, “Please. You look exhausted. You really need to rest.”
Wearily, Mother Theodora nodded, grateful to abdicate the decision. In her room, she took the tablets as directed and removed her veil and wimple. She sat to unlace her shoes and kick them off, and then lay back on the bed, massaging her head. The headache had become more stabbing, and reading had become even more difficult.
To her surprise, she fell deeply asleep and startled awake as the bell rang. She sat up quickly and almost fell over sideways as the room spun. Gripping the mattress with both hands, she waited for the spinning to stop.
By the time she got her wimple and veil back on and laced up her shoes, she knew the short hour of None would be nearly over, and she decided to go straight to her office.
She was there, squinting again at yet more letters from potential aspirants, when there was a knock.
“Venite.”
“Pax tecum,” came Lauren’s voice as the door opened.
Mother rose with a smile. “Et cum spiritu tuo.”
She embraced Lauren and joined her in the chairs near the desk. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” Lauren’s eyes narrowed as they scoured Mother’s face.
“Don’t say it.” Mother held up a hand. “I know, I look terrible. I need to get my eyes examined. It’s just eye strain.”
“Okay, if you say so.” But Lauren didn’t sound convinced.
“Your call this morning was well-timed. I’ve been receiving more requests for retreats at Tapestry House than we can accommodate.”
“Really? That’s wonderful.” Lauren hesitated. “Isn’t it?”
“It is. I’m gratified that your gift is allowing so many women and girls to experience a place of quiet and contemplation.”
“But?”
Mother chuckled. “Always to the point. It was just one of your qualities that I always appreciated. But, more of them are asking for a retreat director. The Council is considering hiring someone to basically manage the place for us. I admit, I didn’t anticipate this kind of response, and we’re really not set up for it.”
“I didn’t mean to create more work for you,” Lauren said apologetically.
“It’s all God’s work. Just a different kind than we’re accustomed to, that’s all. So what brings you here today?”
“Well,” Lauren began, and Mother noticed for the first time the large envelope in her lap, “I have something for you. Two things, actually.”
“For me?”
“Just you. Personally.” Lauren’s brow creased. “I hope… As to the first, I hope you won’t be upset that we pried. And as to the second, no one but Gail and myself know anything about it, and we won’t speak of it to anyone.”
Mother Theodora didn’t know what to say. “This is certainly intriguing. My curiosity is piqued.”
Lauren handed the envelope to her. “I hope you won’t think this inappropriate to say, but… if you need to speak to someone, not in the community, you can call me. Any time, day or night, and I will be here in minutes.”
They stood, and Lauren gave her a tight hug before rushing out of the office. Mother Theodora took the precaution of going to the office next door, saying, “Sister Anastasia, could you please see to it that I’m not disturbed?”
Sister Anastasia gaped up at her for a moment. “Of course, Mother.”
Back in her office, Mother closed the door and sat down at her desk. She noticed with a kind of detached gaze that her hands were trembling as she pried open the metal clasps of the envelope and slid the contents onto her desk.
Her hand flew to her mouth as images of her family stared up at her, smiling faces she hadn’t seen in over fifty years, faces she’d never expected to see again. Tears ran down her cheeks as she shuffled through the photos. She stopped at one, clearly more recent, of… is that Josie? A silver-haired woman stood beside a man whose arm was wrapped around her. She checked for a date and flipped it over to find a hand-written note,
Pip,
I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you, but I’ve never stopped loving you.
Josie
Mother Theodora laughed through her tears. She saw for the first time, photos of Garrett’s family, my niece and nephew. Flipping through those, she came to another, smaller envelope inscribed in Lauren’s handwriting, Private.
Her heart pounded now, and her hands fumbled as she pried the flap open and tugged out another photo, this one of a grave marker. Her breath caught in her throat, and it seemed the office dimmed.
From a great distance, she heard voices, but she turned from them. Enough. I’ve done enough.
Lauren stayed home the rest of the afternoon, not even going to the workshop. She wanted to be near the telephone, just in case. Sure enough, it rang about seven p.m.
She yanked the receiver off the wall. “Yes?”
“Lauren, this is Sister Isadore.”
Lauren sank into a chair, her eyes closed. “How is she?”
There was a pause, as she heard a door being closed. “Thank you so much for leaving that note with Sister Lucille, alerting me. I was the first one to get to her office, so I was able to tuck everything away before the others got there.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. We found her slumped at her desk. Sister Mary David told me later she’s been having horrible headaches. We’re praying it wasn’t a stroke. She’s at the hospital now. Dr. Allenby called to say they’ve run scans and other tests and are waiting for the results.”
“Dear God.”
“I can’t believe you found them. Both of them.”
“I almost wish I hadn’t. I feel horrible.”
“Don’t,” Sister Isadore said firmly. “Whatever happens from here, she needed this. These estrangements have been a gaping wound for her for a very long time. Maybe now, she can heal.”