In the small puddle of lamplight, surrounded by high shadows, Sister Regina waited, surprised by the older nun’s story. Then Sister Agnes drew a deep breath, lifted her chin and went on.
“But I, like you, heard the voice of God within me. Only He told me He needed me here, so I returned. Having been through the trial and triumphed over it, I found myself more fully committed than ever, and I’ve never been sorry a day for the path I chose.”
Sister Regina’s expression remained quiescent, like the Madonna’s. Her hands were linked loosely underneath her scapular, which tented to her knees. She thought about what Sister Agnes had told her, surprised that Mother Superior had revealed so much of her personal history.
“Tell me, Sister,” the older one asked, “has there been a similar temptation for you? Does your vow of chastity play a part in this?”
Sister Regina wondered how to respond. “I don’t know how to answer that. A small part, perhaps, but more as a catalyst to make me reconsider the religious life I’ve chosen. In physical terms there’s been not a word spoken, not a touch exchanged, not a single indiscretion of any kind whatsoever. I believe it’s been more of an examination of what I’ve missed—marriage, children and the home life that goes along with it. And the freedoms. Those have been beckoning strongly for some time.”
“I, too, thought of all that when I faced the doctor.”
“The freedoms, too? I would not have thought...”
“The freedoms, too. We are, after all, humans, Sister.” They let a thoughtful moment spin past, then Sister Regina said, “Father Kuzdek told me I should talk to you, and that I might be surprised at what I heard. I am.”
“Ah... so you’ve already been talking to Father.”
“Yes.”
“It’s come that far, then.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it has. I would very much like to go home and tell my family about my decision, especially my grandmother. It won’t be easy telling her in person, but I’d rather do it that way than in a letter. Christmas vacation starts this week. The timing seems providential.”
Sister Agnes finally showed some dismay—a quick indrawn breath. “So soon? Perhaps if you take a little more time to pray and meditate... make a retreat.”
“I’ve already done that, Mother Agnes. I made a retreat last August for exactly this purpose, and I’ve said so many prayers since, and meditated and done penance. I’ve gone through the whole agonizing process, searching my soul, asking myself and God what is truly right for me, and I believe that God and I have reconciled ourselves to my decision. Now I need to reconcile it with my family.” Sister Agnes continued nodding solemnly.
“Well...” She sounded sad. “... so soon. I thought maybe next spring, when the school term is finished.”
“I understand it can take as long as six months for the paperwork to go clear to Rome and back.”
“Yes, but...” Mother Agnes let her shoulders droop. “Oh, dear.” She sighed and glanced at the crucifix again. “I suppose I’m resisting out of purely selfish reasons because I don’t want to lose you, Sister. You’re one of our best teachers, and in spite of what you think of life within a religious community, you have added much to ours.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Have you made plans for your life outside the convent?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s my duty to advise you that this step can be very difficult. What will you do to earn a living, and where will you live?”
“I’m not sure yet, Mother, but I can always teach.”
“I must warn you, the Catholic Church frowns on letting former nuns teach in their schools.”
“Not even in another town?” It had been Sister Regina’s plan to become a lay teacher in another parochial school.
“It’s very doubtful.”
“You mean they’ll blackball me?”
“Blackball is a very strong word.”
“But that’s what it amounts to, doesn’t it?”
Mother Superior’s voice grew understanding. “It’s my duty to prepare you for your life after you leave us, and to inform you of the Church’s stand on these things.”
They’ll deny me a job? When I’m a qualified teacher and Mother Agnes considers me one of her best? The news went zinging its way through Sister Regina like an electric current. What went unsaid, what she suddenly understood with amazing clarity, was that once she doffed her habit, the Church was afraid she might influence other nuns to quit; her presence would be a reminder that it was possible. She was still reeling from the news when Mother Agnes inquired, “Will your family help you get established?”
“I... I don’t know. They aren’t wealthy. Just ordinary farmers who work hard for a living.”
“Yes, well... these things have to be considered.” What Mother Agnes was saying was that a nun who received a dispensation left with very little, for all property was community property, even gifts that nuns might have received over the years. Their Constitution forbade the ownership of either cash or worldly goods by an individual.
“I’ll just have to take this one step at a time,” Sister Regina replied. “I thought I’d speak to you first, then my family, then whomever I must see to take the necessary formal steps.”
“That would be the prioress, Sister Vincent de Paul at Saint Ben’s. You would go to her and state your intentions and fill out a form requesting the dispensation of vows, and she’d forward it to the president of the congregation, who will then send it to the Holy Father in Rome.”
“And then... while I wait? What then?”
“You return here and continue as before, until the Holy Father signs the paper and it’s returned to you.”
“And that takes six months?”
“Approximately.”
“I see.” There’s public school, Regina thought. I could always teach in public school. But the idea was repugnant: teaching in a place devoid of prayer. She wanted to remain close to the religious structure much the way a child swimming over his head for the first time wants a life buoy floating along by his side. “So, after I see Sister Vincent de Paul is time enough to think about my future.”
“Yes. I suppose so.”
They seemed to have covered everything, but Sister Regina still didn’t have one important answer.
“So, about my going to see my family during Christmas vacation?”
Mother Agnes’s face had grown long and sad. Nonetheless, she found a weak smile and said, “You have my permission.”
Sister Regina reached out and touched the older woman’s sleeve. “Please don’t be sad for me, Mother Agnes.”
Mother Agnes put a dry hand over Sister Regina’s and gave it a light pat. “Don’t be hasty, Sister Regina. Just don’t be too hasty. Make very, very sure you’re doing the right thing.”
“I promise.” She smiled. “Maybe that’s why it takes six months... to give people a chance to reconsider.”
“Yes... well...” Their hands parted and got tucked away in each lap. “Please kneel for my blessing.”
On her knees before Mother Agnes, Sister Regina felt the faint touch on her head. A moment passed. Was that trembling in Mother Superior’s hand? Mother Agnes drew a breath and spoke in a voice that had thinned to a small whisper. “Good and gentle Jesus...”
And though her prayer invoked the deity to guide Sister Regina in the choice she would be making during the next couple of weeks, the truth was the choice was already made. Now that she knew exactly what she had to do, Sister Regina made up her mind that before she returned from Christmas vacation she would go to St. Ben’s and sign the papers that would release her from her vows.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
School let out for Christmas vacation on Friday, December fifteenth, and wouldn’t resume until Tuesday, January second. Since Eddie had to work throughout vacation, the plans were made for the girls to spend the first week at Grandpa and Grandma Pribil’s, and the second week at Grandpa and Grandma Olczak’s. After a
dismal week putting up the Christmas tree at home and trying to make a joyful occasion out of one that dredged up painful memories of Krystyna, Eddie succumbed to the girls’ pressuring, got one of his nephews to ring the evening Angelus and took the girls out to their Grandma Pribil’s late Friday afternoon.
Krystyna’s mother was doing a valiant job of keeping her chin up. She told the girls they could help her bake Christmas cookies and she’d cook them pirohis and kolach with lots of psypka on top, just like their mommy used to make. And out in the barn, she said, they had a mother cat with four new baby kittens, and they could choose one to bring in the house and make a bed near the woodstove for it, and maybe when they went back home they could ask their daddy if they could take it and keep it for their own.
Grandpa Pribil took them out to the barn and they chose a fluffy striped kitten with a tail straight as an asparagus sprout. Aunt Irene said it was the color of burnt sugar so the girls decided her name should be Sugar.
For Eddie, it was once again comfortable being with Irene. He gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek when he arrived, and felt free from the constraints of the past several months. He could be her friend again, nothing more. After a delicious home-cooked meal she helped her mother prepare, Irene brought out some homemade chokecherry wine and the playing cards, and said, “What do you say, Eddie, should we take on Ma and Pa in a few games of Smear?” So she and Eddie were partners, spending a long evening in the warm kitchen, playing cards and drinking wine. When Eddie decided it was time to go home, he left the girls tucked beneath cozy feather ticks with Sugar between them: there was no question of the cat sleeping behind the range.
The Pribil house had a small screenless back porch that jutted off the kitchen and held the washing machine in the summer and barrels full of frozen meats in the winter. Mary threw a misshapen blue sweater over her housedress and stepped onto the porch with Eddie as he was leaving. They paused at the top of the steps and looked out at Eddie’s truck. A light snow was settling on its green paint, and in the sky, a murky blue moon shone through the light flurries that fell lazily, like eiderdown.
Eddie put his arm around his mother-in-law’s shoulder and gave her a hard squeeze. “Oh, Mary...” He sighed, dropping his head back. “How’re we gonna make it through this, huh?”
“I don’t know, Eddie. I just don’t know.”
“I put up a Christmas tree, but my heart wasn’t in it.”
“I know. I know.”
He squeezed her again. “Appreciate your letting the girls stay out here this week.”
“Oh, don’t you say nothing, Eddie. That’s about the best thing that can happen anymore is them two coming out here.”
“You and Irene are gonna spoil them good this week, I know.”
“You bet. As much as we can.”
“And Pa, too.”
“Yup. Pa, too. He don’t say much, but he misses Krystyna something awful. She was always sort of his favorite, you know.”
Behind them Krystyna’s father came out of the house, shrugging on a frayed blue-denim barn jacket. “Better go out t’the barn, check the livestock one more time.” His heavy hand landed on Eddie’s back in passing. “ ’Night, son.”
“ ’Night, Pa. Thanks for everything.”
From down the path Richard lifted a hand without turning his head.
The two on the step watched him walk away, his back slightly stooped, while in the kitchen behind them Irene cleared away wineglasses and cards, and wiped off the kitchen table.
Mary said, “Richard and me, we sort of had hopes for you and Irene, but lately it seems like—well, something happened there.”
“Yup. Something happened there. It wouldn’t work, Mary.”
“Forget I mentioned it. You can’t fill Krystyna’s shoes that easy, I know.”
“Nope.” Eddie sighed and dropped his arm from Mary’s shoulders. “Well... better go. Angelus comes early.”
They kissed cheeks and hugged good night.
“Take it easy,” he said.
And she, mastering the urge to get teary-eyed, thumped him on the nape without another word.
From the window in the kitchen door, Irene watched Eddie all the while he walked to his truck, got in, started the engine and turned around in the farmyard. She watched with a yearning that filled her throat and eyes and made her heart feel like bursting. She was still watching when he rolled slowly out the driveway and headed off down the gravel road, leaving twin tracks in the snow.
________
The next day Eddie worked in the abandoned school building, taking down the Christmas trees from all the classrooms and burning them in the incinerator by Father Kuzdek’s garage. With the help of Romaine’s boy, Joey, he moved all the wooden folding chairs out of the storage room at the back of the gymnasium and washed and waxed that floor, then the gymnasium floor as well.
His workdays were filled with routine, especially in winter when the ancient furnace was running. Every day he oiled the water pumps on the boiler and twice a day checked the water level inside it, keeping it at ten feet, and also the boiler gauges, making sure they stayed below 130°. If the furnace started pounding, which it did frequently in extremely cold weather, he had to open the air cockpits on the radiators and bleed them. Near the end of each day he filled the coal hopper for overnight.
That’s what he was doing when Romaine found him in the coal bin around quarter to four that afternoon.
“Hey, little brother, been looking for you.”
Eddie stopped shoveling and pushed his blue-striped work cap back on his head. “Yeah? So what for?”
“Saturday afternoon, and I hear your kids are gone to the farm. Thought maybe you’d want to stop by the liquor store and have a couple of bumps.”
“Yeah, sure. Why not? You grab that shovel over there and give me a hand with this coal and we’ll get out of here a little faster.”
They finished filling the hopper, Eddie checked the gauges and water pumps one last time, and they climbed into Eddie’s truck and drove a block and a half to the liquor store. Outside it was one of those gray, murky days with the wind swirling up your pants legs and slapping your lapel against your cheek. Inside it was smoky and stale and lit by neon beer signs. The same drunks sat on the same stools they occupied every day. A desultory dice game was in progress at one end of the bar. On the jukebox Vaughn Monroe was singing “Ghost Riders in the Sky.” Clothes-pinned to a long drooping wire along the deep left wall were dance bills advertising New Year’s Eve bands at all the dance halls around the area, as well as an advertisement showing Ralph Bellamy smoking a Camel. An outdated campaign poster had a picture of Slip Walter, who’d run for Sheriff. At the Clarissa Theater, Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn were playing in Adam ’s Rib and at long Prairie it was Ma and Pa Kettle Go to Town. But in the municipal liquor store it was the same depressing business as usual.
Romaine ordered a straight shot of whiskey with a water chaser.
Eddie ordered a bottle of Grain Belt.
Their drinks came, they made the senseless toast, “Bumps!” and wet their throats.
Romaine clapped his glass down and said, “So, how goes it, Eddie?”
“Horseshit,” Eddie replied.
“It’s that time of year. Tough.”
“Yeah, tough all right. Who wants to play Santa Claus alone?”
“Rose thinks you and the girls ought to sleep at our house on Christmas Eve, then the girls can open their stockings with our kids. You could all come over after Midnight Mass and spend the rest of the night. What do you say?”
“I think the girls would like that... but you never know.”
“Why don’t you ask them?”
“I already know what Lucy would say: ‘How will Santa find us at Auntie Rose’s?’ ”
Romaine laughed. “That is a problem, I know, but I’m sure you’ll dream up an answer.”
The door opened and one of the locals, Louie Kulick, walked in. He perched on a bar sto
ol next to Eddie and said, “Where’s Sister Regina going?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sister Regina’s standing outside waiting for the bus.” Eddie perked up and glanced at the door. “She is?”
“Funny thing is she’s all alone.” The nuns always traveled with partners. Everybody knew this.
Eddie set down his bottle of beer and said, “Be right back, Romaine.”
The wind caught the plate-glass door and set it back against the recessed entrance. Below the Greyhound sign on Dan and Mary Jonczkowski’s restaurant next door, Sister Regina was standing on the sidewalk with a small cardboard suitcase at her ankle. She clutched a thick black hand-knit cape to her throat, with her veil caught beneath it and held from flying skyward. The veil nevertheless billowed to its limits, and she looked frozen in place, shuddering in the cold of the darkening afternoon as she gazed northward, hoping to see a bus approach.
“Sister Regina?” he said from behind her.
She spun suddenly at the sound of his voice and said breathlessly, “Oh, Mr. Olczak!”
“Are you waiting for the bus?”
“Yes. But it’s late, it seems.”
“Why don’t you wait inside?”
She glanced at the window and offered him only a faint smile in answer.
“Oh,” he said. “The beer.” The Greyhound stop was a bar as well as a restaurant.
“I’m fine out here.”
“You’re freezing out here.”
She only smiled and gazed northward again.
“Sister, it’s... I mean... pardon me for asking, but where’s your partner? Isn’t anyone traveling with you?”