Mother Theodora stopped at the office next to hers. “Sister Anastasia, I’m going over to Tapestry House for little bit. I should be no longer than half an hour.”
Sister Anastasia looked up from her desk. “Do you want someone to accompany you, Mother?”
“No need.”
She walked on, letting Sister Lucille know as well where she’d be. Her “holiday” as she’d come to think of it, had been wonderful—not only for what she’d done and whom she’d had the opportunity to spend time with, but the sense of freedom from being accountable every second of every minute of every day of her life.
Breathing deeply as she walked, she appreciated the buzz of the bees in the roses Mr. Henderson tended along the abbey’s wall, all blooming brilliant yellows and deep, deep reds in the summer sun.
When she got to the retreat house, she knocked and let herself in. A young woman bounced into the foyer to greet her, looking comfortable in nylon shorts and a Nike T-shirt, a thin headband sweeping her black curls from her face.
“Mother Theodora! Don’t know if you remember me.”
“Of course I remember you, Sister Alicia. Back again?”
“Yes.” Sister Alicia gestured toward the kitchen. “The girls in our first group were so thrilled with their time here, it’s all they’ve talked about. They begged me to set up a return visit so they could do another retreat, but it’s taken me all this time to find an opening. You guys are busy!”
Mother nodded. “We have been. I must confess, I had no idea it would take off as it has.”
“You should hire someone to run this place for you. Would you like something cold to drink?” Sister Alicia opened the refrigerator. “I’ve got lemonade.”
“That sounds lovely. Thank you.” Mother sat at the table. “Where are the girls?”
“They wanted to see the cows, so Sister Darnella took them to the farm.” Sister Alicia set two glasses on the table. “It’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Of course. I imagine your girls don’t get to see farms and cows. We also have a few barn cats patrolling out there.”
“The girls will be in heaven. Actually,” Sister Alicia hesitated, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Two of the girls with us last time are here again. They just graduated from high school, and… they have been talking about entering.”
“Entering.” Mother stared quizzically.
“St. Bridget’s. Entering the abbey.”
Mother didn’t know what to say. “That’s wonderful.” She caught the expression on Sister Alicia’s face. “Isn’t it? I mean, we have had a few other postulants who found us through retreats here, but they were already in college. We often encourage very young women to work or attend college for a few years prior to entering. Few know at seventeen or eighteen what they’re really meant to do.”
Sister Alicia nodded. “I agree. Our order does the same, but… that’s not what concerns me.”
“I’m listening.”
“Do you—” Sister Alicia gave an embarrassed grin. “When we were here before, when we attended Mass and some of the Office, sorry, but all I saw were white faces. Do you have any women of color in the community?”
“Of course.” Mother sat back, thinking. “But… I suppose I never thought about it or saw it. We have one Black nun, Sister Marguerite, from Jamaica. And Sister Jamila’s family came to this country from India, but I guess that’s it. My goodness. I never realized.”
Sister Alicia chuckled. “And my girls come from neighborhoods that are almost all Latino or Black. My own family is mixed—my dad’s from the Dominican Republic and my mom is from Costa Rica. I think it would be hard for these girls to go from being surrounded by people who look like them to a place where no one does.”
Mother nodded, tapping her lip. “Please believe that it’s not intentional. It’s not like we recruit from segregated sources, it’s just that… we’ve never had a close relationship with more diverse parishes.”
Deep in thought, Mother sipped her lemonade. “Sister Marguerite was assigned to the kitchen, as I recall, so that may be why you didn’t see her.” She smiled at the frown on Sister Alicia’s face. “We almost all of us rotate through the kitchens. I myself have spent what felt like years making the abbey’s bread. Sister Marguerite was the postulant mistress a few years ago. I wouldn’t normally reassign someone back to that duty so soon.”
“I’m not suggesting you should change what you normally do,” said Sister Alicia, “but if you do get more diverse postulants, it might set them at ease to see someone who looks like them.”
“I’ll consider it with the next assignment of duties. In the meantime, if your girls are serious, let us know and we’ll arrange a face-to-face with our current postulant mistress, Sister Rosaria.”
Of its own accord, Lauren’s mind woke at the usual time. Sometimes, she wondered if she’d ever sleep past four-thirty, but the room was already getting a little lighter with the coming dawn. Beside her, Gail snuffled in her sleep. Lauren smiled and tugged the sheet over Gail’s bare arm before carefully getting out of bed. Cool air washed over her naked body, and it was exhilarating.
She stood for a moment, gazing down at Gail, still amazed that this wonderful woman had come into her life. She was tempted to wake her with a kiss and make love with her again, but she looked so peaceful, her fingers twitching slightly in a dream. She padded to where she’d tossed her clothes over the chair last night and took them into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, the coffee maker gurgled while Kyrie wound around her ankles, loudly complaining that she was about to die of hunger.
“Hush,” Lauren whispered as she scooped some fresh food into the bowl.
With a covered mug of fresh coffee, she let herself out the kitchen door, carefully closing the screen door so it didn’t slap and wake Gail. Kyrie trotted ahead of her along the winding path to the gazebo, darting into the grass halfway up to chase something.
“Don’t you kill any bunnies,” Lauren called after her.
Inside the gazebo, she settled into her chair and closed her eyes. All around, the meadow was waking. Birds chirped cheerfully and little rustlings in the grass let her know she was surrounded by creatures. She sipped her coffee and just listened. Through the still air, voices carried from the abbey, singing the first notes of Lauds. After about fifteen minutes, the voices faded, but the meadow sounds continued.
“Are you okay with this?” she whispered.
As soon as the words passed her lips, she recalled the night she and Mickey had finally confessed their love for each other, weeks after Jennifer had discovered a letter Alice had left for Mickey, asking her to let herself love again.
“Is that what you want for me?”
A bird sang from just outside the gazebo, and she turned to see a wren perched on a sapling, its slim branch swaying under the wren’s slight weight. It tilted its head, gazing at her as it sang and waited. Again, it sang and then listened. Another wren darted by, swooping around to land on the same sapling. They sat for a moment, swaying and chirping at each other before taking off together.
She stared after them and heard soft footsteps on the decking. Behind her, the gazebo door opened and closed.
“Good morning.” Gail bent to kiss her cheek before taking the other chair, and Kyrie stretched out where she could watch the activity outside the screen.
“Good morning,” Lauren said, reaching for her hand. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well.” Gail lifted Lauren’s hand, brushing her lips over her knuckles.
“Gail, I…” Lauren frowned, struggling for words. She forced herself to meet Gail’s eyes and immediately found herself falling into their depths—how does she do that? So open, so full of love.
“Before Mickey, I’d never… loved anyone. Never said ‘I love you’ to anyone. And I know, you’ve said it, but—”
“You don’t have to.” Gail leaned over and pulled Lauren to her for a kiss—soft and tender—before pressing her forehead to Lauren’s. “Neither of us could do this without loving someone. And you’ve shown me in so many other ways.”
“But I do.” Lauren pulled away enough to look Gail in the eye. “I do need to say it. I love you. I never, ever thought I’d love again. Feel this way again. But I do. I love you so very much.”
Gail opened her mouth to reply, but words seemed to escape her. She swallowed hard and nodded, sitting back to stare out at the meadow, her hand still holding Lauren’s.
Sister Lucille led the way down the marble-tiled corridor to the office at the end. She knocked, waiting for the expected “Venite”, and then opened the door to allow Gail to say, “Pax tecum.”
Mother Theodora stood from behind her desk, smiling. “Et cum spiritu tuo.”
“Lauren’s been teaching me the lingo.” Gail stretched out a hand to grasp Mother’s. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Please sit.” Mother caught Gail scouring her face. “Stop. I am good.”
“But not perfect.” Gail knew she was pushing, something she wouldn’t have done with this woman two months ago. But she’d seen her struggling, at her most vulnerable, and to be honest, there was still a bit of a shadow in her eyes.
“No. Not perfect.” Mother smoothed the folds of her habit. “But that’s not why I asked you here.”
“You asked me not to say anything to Lauren. I didn’t.”
Mother nodded. “Thank you. I thought it best if you and I discuss matters privately first. I wouldn’t want to raise her hopes unnecessarily.”
“What matters?”
This time, it was Mother who probed. “How are things? With you and Lauren?”
Gail felt her cheeks warm. “They’re good. Better than good.”
“That makes me very happy. I wondered…” Mother hesitated. “How would you feel about a new position?”
Gail stared at her, trying to put that question into some kind of context. “A new position… I don’t understand.”
“Since your stay at Tapestry House, we’ve become even busier. We have retreats scheduled almost through the end of the year. I think we’ve reached the point where we can no longer just run it as a do-it-yourself retreat house. I’d like to offer you the position of spiritual director of Tapestry House.”
Gail’s mouth gaped, and she could think of nothing to say.
“We can develop the job description together, and I imagine it will be fluid for a while. But basically, you’d be responsible for the reservations, and unlike when you were here with no guidance—until I called Lauren—you would be the retreat director. Or at least you could serve that function for those groups that don’t have one. You’d still be ministering to women and girls, but without a church.”
When Gail continued to stare, Mother added, “We couldn’t pay a very high salary, but you’d have health insurance, and I think we could set up some kind of retirement arrangement.”
“Wow,” Gail said at last. She stood and strode to the window, where the retreat house was visible. She turned around. “You mean it.”
“Of course. I’ve discussed the idea with the Council, but have not mentioned you specifically.” Mother frowned for a moment. “Except for our caretaker, who has been with us for decades, we’ve not hired outside the community. I don’t know if I have the authority to make the ultimate decision myself. We’re making this up as we go. I imagine, if you’re agreeable, it would be wise to arrange a type of interview with the Council.”
“May I think about it?”
“Of course.” Mother stood. “But you’re interested?”
Gail’s face split into a huge smile. “Yes, I’m interested. This could solve so many things I’ve been thinking about.”
“Like how to be with Lauren full-time?”
Gail laughed. “Yes. But I do have to tell Lauren.” She sobered. “She may not want me.”
Mother laid a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t believe that will be the case.”