Waiting to Believe (24 page)

As she wrote to Annie that evening, Kacey felt a tightness. Something was wrong.

42

“I'm pregnant.” Annie, pale and rigid, sat before Kacey in a small alcove off the great room.

Kacey's mouth flew open. A shudder ran through her. “Annie!”

Annie closed her eyes. “But I can't have a baby.” Kacey pulled her chair closer to Annie, glancing toward the open doorway to make certain they were not overheard. Placing her hand behind Annie's neck, she rubbed gently.

“Tell me.”

The tears fell, and Annie's voice quavered. The breakup with Dean Knutson had been painful. “I loved him, I really did,” she choked out. “But I just couldn't
live
with him. He wouldn't talk. I couldn't reach him.”

Kacey nodded her head, even though she knew little about the situation.

“It was okay while we were still in school. I had friends around, ya know? But once we graduated and were just on our own, I felt like I was starving inside. I had to leave.”

She needed, she said, to start a new life. She had moved to Boston alone, miserable in the huge city, teaching a difficult class for the first time. Friendless. Frightened. All new experiences for one who had always been in charge.

She thought of giving up, moving home, but then she met Carlos. She smiled wistfully. “He teaches biology and coaches varsity basketball. He's handsome. So handsome. He laughed. He danced.”

He had taken her under his wing, showed her how to assert herself and get things done at school. How to find pleasure in her new surroundings. And finally, he took her to bed. She had soared.

Until she realized she was pregnant. She couldn't say she had loved him, she told Kacey, but she had needed him, and he had been there for her. Until he got the news. Then he slipped away, back to everyday life with his wife and two children.

Kacey listened, her head pounding. “I s'pose he used me,” Annie continued. “But I used him, too. I knew he was married. He never tried to hide it.” She folded and unfolded her hands, gulping air. “But now. Now . . .” Her words trailed off.

Kacey placed her hands over Annie's tightly knotted fists. “How far along are you?”

“About three months.”

Kacey shifted nervously, willing herself to remain calm. “I need to be clear about this. Are you telling me that you want to have an abortion?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Annie . . .”

“You've got to help me, Kace!”

“How can
I
help?”

Annie looked at Kacey through pain-filled eyes. “You can tell me it's okay to have an abortion.”

Kacey shuddered. They sat as close to one another as they could, holding hands, their knees and foreheads touching. Tears streamed down their cheeks. Neither spoke.

Finally, Kacey said, “How can I tell you that? It goes against everything I'm supposed to stand for.”

Annie pulled back. “Everything you're
supposed
to stand for! I'm not asking about what you're
supposed
to stand for. I'm asking you, as my sister, to stand with me. Stand with
me
!” She lifted their two sets of hands to her mouth, pressing them tightly against her lips, and began to sob.

“Annie, Annie,” Kacey murmured through her own tears.

“I'm trying to get my life together, Kace. Leaving Dean was hard. I thought it would be easier if I threw myself into a wild, easy relationship. No ties. No promises. Just fun.”

Kacey nodded, though, in truth, she couldn't imagine what Annie had been thinking.

“Having a baby now would change the entire course of my life! I'm not ready for that!”

“But you wouldn't have to keep it, Annie! You could put it up for adoption.”

Again, Annie pulled away, anger on her face. “That's the party line, Kacey. Don't you get it? Do you expect me to drop out of teaching for the rest of the year? I'd lose my job. How would I support myself? Where would I go? Home to Dad and Mom? Have Dad ship me off to a Catholic home for unwed mothers?” Her voice grew harsh. She stood up and began pacing, her body rigid with anger and tension.

Kacey was panicked. “I'm having trouble thinking clearly!” Her own voice was shrill.

“You don't have to think! You just have to be with me, tell me it's okay.”

Kacey turned in her chair, following Annie with her eyes. “I need more time,” she said, anger mounting at her pleading sister.

“There's no time! You're either with me, or you're with the church. I'm your
sister
! I need you.”

Kacey rose. They stood facing one another. “I couldn't do anything for you anyway, Annie. I wouldn't be allowed to leave.” Her voice was softer now.

Annie reached out her hand and laid it against Kacey's cheek. “You don't have to actually be
with
me, Kace. You just have to give me your blessing. Tell me that you stand with me. If you do that, I can handle the rest.”

Kacey took Annie's hands in hers. Bringing them to her lips, she kissed them.
God forgive me.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “I stand with you, Annie. I love you. I bless you. Do what you have to do.”

The weight of Kacey's affirmation was almost unbearable for her. She left the alcove and walked slowly to her room. It was empty. Everyone was in the rec room. Sinking to her knees beside her bed, she waited, waited. Waited for some great mystery to fill her with peace. Or at least with understanding.

As she picked up her prayer book, it fell open to the Prayer to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, so often did she turn to it.

O Mother, behold at your feet a wretched sinner who turns to you and puts all trust in you. Mother of mercy, have pity on me! Be my refuge and my hope! Hold out your hand to fallen sinners who commend and dedicate themselves forever to your service. Help me, Mary; Mother of Perpetual Help, let me not lose my God.

She closed the book, but the words replayed themselves in her mind. A sour taste rose in her throat. The prayer brought more questions than comfort. Did she truly mean that she put all trust in Mary, that she dedicated herself to a life of service? She could not answer those questions, especially on this night when she had taken a stand with her sister, against her church. Doubt and despair stirred at her core.

Wearily, she rose from her knees and began undressing. If only she could sleep. But as she crawled under the covers, a new thought shot through her. Each Friday, Father Sean Reagan came to Blessed Sacrament to hear the sisters' confessions. Five days away. Confession. She buried her face in her pillow and began to weep.

43

It was time for evening recreation, and Lisa intercepted Kacey on her way to the library. She looked around to make certain they weren't being observed, then she whispered, “C'mon, Kacey. You don't need to study every night. I've got a cribbage tournament lined up.”

“Nope, can't,” Kacey whispered back. “Shakespeare exam Friday, and I'm not ready.”

“If you're not ready for Shakespeare, no one is. What's going on?”

“Nothing! I told you.”

“No, you didn't.”

There was a sadness in Kacey's eyes that Lisa could not fathom. “Tell me what's going on 'cuz I'm beginning to think there's something rotten in Denmark.”

Kacey gave her friend a weary smile. “Aww, you're too much into the tragedies. Believe me, it's much ado about nothing.” She shouldered past Lisa and entered the library without looking back.

The week dragged on, Kacey withdrawing more each day. Lisa watched, helpless. On Friday, they walked silently to the dining room for supper. Kacey passed the platter of fried chicken without taking any. She passed the green bean casserole, too, then finally took a small portion of mashed potatoes, which she proceeded to push slowly around her plate.

Lisa's eyes widened when she saw Kacey stand and approach Sister Mary Julian at the head of the table. “Sister Mary Julian,” Kacey said in a faint voice, “I'm really not feeling well. I'd like permission to return to my room.”

Her superior looked up in surprise. Kacey was noticeably pale. “But Father Reagan will be hearing confession right after supper.”

“I know, but I'm afraid I'm coming down with the flu.”

“Oh, I do hope not! Well, go to bed, then. You'll just have twice as much to confess next Friday!” There was a twinkle in Mary Julian's eyes, but instead of comforting Kacey, it made her feel unworthy of such kindness.

The weekend was blustery with snow slicing sideways, hitting the library windows with little pings. Wind from the north roared across the wide expanse of the front lawn, howling around the edges of the drafty room. Kacey chose a table in a small alcove off the main room. She opened her
Age of Milton
textbook and stared down at it. “Paradise Lost” stared back.

What better can we do, than to place

Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall

Before him reverent, and there confess

Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears

Watering the ground. . . .

She quickly closed the book, her fingers flitting momentarily over the embossed title on its cover.
How ironic. To be reading about disobedience and fall from grace.
She rose and made her way out of the library. “
What better can we do . . .”

Monday brought a tempering of the weather and a calming to Kacey's troubled heart. Her spirit revived a little each day, and by Friday, she had made a decision.

When she entered the confessional, her voice was calm, steady. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been fourteen days since my last confession.” She paused for a brief moment and then continued with confidence. “In these days, I have had impure thoughts once, unkind thoughts four times, and I have harbored resentment twice.” She swallowed hard. She had made up her “sins” but so what? At least she had gone through the motions.
There, I've confessed. What does it matter what I've confessed to? I've done the right thing.

The last Sunday in January, Kacey received a postcard with a picture of Paul Revere on his horse. Annie. The message was two sentences:
It's done. I'm all right.
Kacey held the card in hands that trembled, so powerful was the impact of those five words . . .

44

“What in the world are you doing?” Kacey looked up, startled. The mother general stood between Kacey and the television set where the image of a prancing Jackie Gleason flickered on the small black-and-white screen.

“Oh, Mother Mary Agnes! I'm sorry! Really, I am! I didn't realize the program had changed.” Kacey jumped up from the couch to switch the TV off. She stood before the mother general, red faced at being caught. Television watching was a privilege granted only to third-year juniors and beyond, but there were strict rules about what could be viewed. Educational programs only.

“I was watching a special on the Lewis and Clark expedition, but it ended, and I—”

From across the large rec room, the low murmur of conversation stopped. Two tables of sisters playing bridge made a show of continuing their games, but their eyes had shifted to Kacey.

Mary Agnes interrupted Kacey. “You continue to push the limits, Sister Mary Laurence.” Her voice was firm but not unkind.

“It won't happen again,” Kacey spoke softly. “I just wasn't thinking.”

“After five years with us, you
should
be thinking.”

Kacey shifted her weight, looking down at the toes of her shoes. “You're right, Mother Mary Agnes. It's not an unreasonable expectation.”

“And yet you still struggle with willfulness. Why is that?” Her gaze was penetrating.

Kacey knew she must choose each word of her reply carefully. “I'm not intentionally willful. I know I sometimes act before I think, but I
want
to do the right thing.”

The old nun nodded. Her expression softened. “Yes, I do believe you. Your path with us has not been an easy one.” She paused. “I urge you to devote more time to prayer and meditation, Sister. You must find the way to freedom. I fear it still eludes you.”

Kacey lowered her eyes. “Pray for me, Mother Mary Agnes.”

“Oh, I do!” came the response. “But you must pray for yourself, too. Ask for what you need! And you must listen. God will speak to you, Sister, but you must be still and listen for His voice.”

There was a moment of silence between the two. The mother general smiled at Kacey. “Now, go. Go meet with God. He waits for you!”