Don’t you hurt my sister, you big meanie!
“Hey, Lucy, wait!”
But Lucy was running in the hall, heading to the rescue, and she didn’t stop till she got to the flower-room door. Inside, she could hear Sister screaming, “Don’t talk back to me!” and her fear of the legendary persecutor overwhelmed her courage. She began crying and ran to the closest person she could think of to help.
“Sister Regina, come quick! Sister Mary Charles’s got Annie in the flower room, and she’s giving her a licking!”
Sister Regina had been sitting at her desk, supervising the noon-hour play in her room. She jumped to her feet so fast her chair tipped over as she headed for the cloakroom door.
“Go play, Lucy, I’ll take care of this.”
She flew through the cloakroom in a dervish of black veils and flung open the flower-room door.
“Stop that this instant!” she shouted.
Anne had taken four licks and stood sobbing, holding her striped hands out for more.
Sister Mary Charles spun around. “This child has disobeyed! She must be punished!”
“Not that way! Not with anger and cruelty!”
“She disobeyed me not once, but twice, and this is what she gets.”
“No. I will not allow it.”
“You will not allow it! Since when is it your place to allow or disallow it when I’m reprimanding the children!”
“This is not reprimanding, this is persecution, and that is not a naughty child. A stern talking-to would do.”
“We teach them that disobedience is sin, and this is the punishment. It’s no worse than hundreds of others’ve gotten over the years, and they’re all better off for it.”
“God punishes sin, not you. And I cannot believe one of those children is better off for it. Anne, come here.” Anne dropped her hands and ran to Sister Regina’s side, flinging her arms around the nun’s hips and crying against her black clothing.
“Mother Superior will hear about this!” Mary Charles promised.
“Yes, Sister, she will.” More gently, to Anne who was still sobbing with her face a mess, Sister Regina said, “Anne, please go into the bathroom and blow your nose and wait for me there.”
Anne ran out, leaving the two nuns alone. Sister Regina said, in her calmest voice, “I’m very sorry, Sister, but I simply could not tolerate it anymore. I’ve disagreed with your whipping the children ever since I came here, but it seemed to be a tradition, and everyone accepted it. Well, not me. Never me. I see no reason why the children should be sacrificed to some bitter need you have within you. It is not the children who should go to Confession, Sister, but you.”
Sister Mary Charles had thrown her strap aside and was rolling her sleeve down, muttering, “... young progressive know-it-alls they’re turning out of the convent these days...”
“What are you so bitter about, Sister?” the younger one asked quietly.
“If it wasn’t for people like me those kids would be running all over us, blaspheming in the halls, skipping Mass and who knows what else!”
“Is that what Anne was doing, blaspheming in the halls? Skipping Mass? No. What was it? Running? like any healthy little fourth-grader is bound to do when she’s cooped up for eight hours a day and can’t even go outside for recess?”
“You overstep your bounds, Sister, and while you’re doing it you break Holy Rule.”
“Please, don’t speak to me of Holy Rule. You might try relearning chapter six on charity, where it says teachers may not inflict corporal punishment of any kind on a pupil. What about that holy rule?”
Sister Mary Charles scoffed and headed toward the door through which Anne had run. “I don’t have to stand here and take this from a nun who everyone knows plays favorites to those Olczak kids just because their dad is the janitor. I’m not stupid, Sister. Nor is Mother Superior. We know what’s going on!”
She went out and slammed the door none too gently.
Sister Regina dropped her face into her steepled hand and collected herself for a moment. Tears stung her eyes. Nerves jumped in her stomach. But a sense of righteousness overwhelmed her at the knowledge that she’d finally stood up for the children and stopped Mary Charles’s wholesale cruelty.
The bell rang for afternoon classes to resume, and Sister realized she was the one who was supposed to have rung it, and that Anne was still in the lavatory waiting. While her students took last drinks and shuffled toward the classroom, she went to find her.
The girls’ bathroom had windows of stamped, textured glass, and woodwork as dark as molasses. Anne was standing with her face against a corner, crying her little heart out, and Lucy was nearby, vicariously miserable but too young to know what to do.
When their champion arrived, Lucy stated soberly, “She got ’er on the hands, Sister, and Annie won’t stop crying.” Sister made Anne turn around, and Anne plunged against her, hugging hard. Sister’s heart swelled with pity and love and she disregarded Holy Rule, and her own threatened vows, and returned the hug with one hand soothing the child’s hair. Had Anne a mother of her own to go to for understanding, this would be a wholly different situation. What Regina had said to Mary Charles was true. This was not a problem child but a delicate one who’d been through enough turbulent emotions in the past several months. The ignominy and unjustness of today’s whipping might leave a serious mark on her delicate emotions. What to do now—send her back to the classroom to face the curious stares and whispers waiting there? Or let charity rule, and give her a reprieve?
When Anne calmed somewhat, Sister drew back and looked at her tear-streaked face. “Here, dear, let’s run your hands under cold water, and that will help.”
Lucy stuck close to her sister’s side, asking, “You okay, Annie? Do your hands hurt, Annie?”
Sister was touched by the younger sibling’s fierce loyalty and recognized that the bond between them had grown even stronger since the death of their mother. This was not a day on which they should be separated.
Though she would have to answer for it, Sister made a decision.
“Come with me, girls. Let’s go find your daddy.”
They found him in the lunchroom, carrying out the luncheon garbage. The cooks, Mrs. Fisher and Mrs. Zapp, were sitting quietly eating their own meal before washing the dishes. Globules of tomato-covered macaroni dotted the floors and the smell of hamburger goulash permeated the room.
They could hear the garbage cans rattling in the rear hall, so Sister took the girls around the comer, out of earshot of the cooks. Mr. Olczak came in with an empty garbage can and stopped in surprise when he saw the three of them. “What’s going on, Sister?”
She stood with one hand on each girls’ neck, holding them near her protectively. “I think it would be best if Anne and Lucy left school for the rest of the day. Is there someone whose house they could go to?”
“Sure. Aunt Katy’s, but why?”
“Anne had an accident and knocked the bell off the parapet. It hit a child and Sister Mary Charles punished her in the flower room. I stopped her.”
He pulled off his soiled gloves and went down on one knee, frowning. “Annie? Come here, honey.” Both girls went, but he put his hands on Anne’s hips and spoke only to her. “Tell me what happened.”
“We were playing tag, Mary Jean and Lawrence and Joey and a bunch of us, and Sister told us not to run, but I was it, and I accidentally knocked the bell off the parapet and it hit this little girl on the head and it was bleeding, but it was an accident, Daddy. Sister said I committed a sin, but I didn’t, and she hit me with the rubber strap on my hands... and... and...” Her chin was wobbling and fat tears filled her eyes again. “...I w... wish Mommy was still alive.”
Sister Regina had never seen Eddie’s face suffused with anger that way. She watched his expression set up with indignation as he listened to Anne’s recounting of her punishment. She thought she could read his mind, and that what was on it must be what was on hers—how dare that bitte
r old nun perpetrate her viciousness on a little girl who hadn’t a mean bone in her body, who was a model of comportment, and who had been through enough hell, having lost her mother!
“Come on. You, too, Lucy.” He rose, stem-faced and decisive, taking both girls by the hands. “We’ll go get your coats, and I’ll take you over to Aunt Katy’s. You can stay there till suppertime. And don’t you worry about whether or not you sinned, Annie. You didn’t.”
He stalked so fast the girls had to run to keep up, back to the third- and fourth-grade room. While Sister returned to her students and began the afternoon classes with a prayer, Eddie went into the cloakroom to find the girls’ coats. But before he left, he stuck his head into the classroom and motioned for Sister to come to the doorway. Then he whispered, “Thank you, Sister. Will you be in trouble for stepping in?”
“No, Mr. Olczak.”
“Good. It’s... I’m so...” She watched him do battle with an anger so immense that it knew no suitable expression. “Nothing. I’ll talk to you later.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It surprised Sister Regina how calm she was now that the time was here. The misgivings from the past seemed to have vanished. Her doubts had dissipated with her abrupt decision to step in and stop Sister Mary Charles from whipping Anne. It was as if that moment galvanized her decision, for she knew with calming certainty that leaving was the right thing to do and now was the right time to set the wheels in motion.
She tried nothing so pointless as to beat Sister Mary Charles at telling Mother Agnes about what had taken place in the flower room; therefore, by the time she and Mother Agnes met at eight o’clock that night, Mother Superior was cognizant of it all.
Sister Agnes waited in the empty community room after all the others had retired to their rooms.
“Come in, Sister Regina,” she invited in a kindly tone, “and close the door if you like.”
Sister Regina did so soundlessly. Her shoes squeaked as she approached and knelt for Mother Superior’s blessing. A whisper, a touch on the head, and she rose, seating herself at a right angle to the other nun on an armchair with a stiffly upholstered seat and a straight back. The house was silent, the knitting and crocheting of recreation time returned to the drawers. A single dim lamp glowed on a corner table between the two nuns, the forty-watt bulb their standard of poverty in illumination, and from a crucifix on the wall the tortured Jesus looked down upon their black-clad figures.
Sister Regina spoke first, so softly she might have been speaking to a student during study time. “Thank you for seeing me, Mother Agnes.”
The older woman nodded wordlessly. There was a curious peace in the room, no rush, no urgency.
“I imagine you’re aware of what transpired in the flower room this noon.”
Mother Agnes nodded again.
“Undoubtedly you thought that’s what I’d come to talk about, but I’ve come about something far more significant than that. What happened in the flower room is only one small manifestation of a much larger... I shall call it a problem that I’ve been praying about.” Sister Regina spoke low and slow, certain of her course. “I fear, Mother Agnes, that I’ve been growing more and more dissatisfied with my life here within the spiritual community. These feelings have been growing for a very long time.”
“I’ve been aware of it, Sister.”
“Of course you have.” Sister Regina smiled up at Jesus on the wall and went on quietly. “I cannot say exactly when it began, but not this month, not last, not even this year. These things don’t start on a given day, but grow from some... some unknown moment and I don’t know when that moment began. But I realize, Mother, that I no longer belong here and I wish to seek a dispensation from my vows.”
Much to Sister Regina’s surprise, Mother Agnes showed no sign of shock. She said quite calmly, “I imagine you’ve prayed and reflected long and hard over this before speaking to me about it.”
“Yes, Mother, I have.”
“And you’ve asked God’s help in making your decision?”
“Many times.”
“Good. Then let me start by saying that it’s not a sin to doubt your vows.”
“In my head I know that. In my heart I feel differently, because I knew from the time I was eleven years old that this was what I wanted to be. Everybody said I should be a nun, especially my grandmother, who was the most deeply religious person I ever knew. She, above all, gave me to believe that life as a religious was the epitome of service to God, and that I was cut out for it above all my other brothers and sisters. In school, of course, there were nuns who said the same thing.”
“And now you think they were wrong?”
“What I think, Mother Agnes, is that I was so very young and malleable, too young to question their opinion. And, of course, I realize that it was part of the nuns’ duty to foster vocations, just as it’s now a part of mine. Time and again I heard it—‘Oh, Jean Marie, you’d make such a wonderful nun, you’re suited to it in every way.’ When it’s the people you love and trust the most saying it—your grandmother and your teachers—you tend to believe them.”
“What about your parents? Didn’t they want you to go into the convent?”
“Oh, of course they did. Every Catholic family wanted one of its children to become a priest or a nun. But there were so many of us at home—nine kids—that one wouldn’t be missed so much, and I always felt that they were pretty much resigned to the fact that they’d lose one of us. It was their duty to let one go. But my grandmother never thought of it as losing me. She always believed I was blessed above all the others.”
They let silence fill the room for a while, contemplating what Sister Regina had said. Then Mother Agnes, with her fingers laced over her round stomach, gazed at the crucifix and remarked, “Every religious I know has someone like that who inspired them. What has made you change your mind, Sister?”
Sister Regina had thought through her answer long before the question was asked. “I’ve come to the slow realization that I wasn’t as cut out for it as they all thought. I’m sorry to say that community life has not lived up to my expectations, and though I’ve tried and tried to find fulfillment in my relationship with God, I can never disassociate myself enough from worldly concerns to be completely at one with Him. I’ve always had a great deal of trouble honoring my vow of obedience, and lately I’ve begun to question everything. Holy Rule most of all. Much of it I find senseless and counterproductive, and I break it so often that I live in a constant state of guilt and repentance. Sometimes anger. Today... when Sister Mary Charles took Anne Olczak in the flower room, it was as if everything finally became crystal clear, and I knew the time was here to make this change in my life.”
Mother Agnes ruminated awhile, nodding. Then she asked, “May we speak of the Olczak children, Sister? Because I think they hold a very special place in your heart.”
“Yes, Mother, they do.”
“And I think maybe that when their mother died you wanted very much to make up for their loss.”
Sister Regina chose her words carefully. “The death of Krystyna Olczak has had a more profound effect on me than I ever believed possible.”
“In what way, Sister?”
“She was...” Sister Regina didn’t know how to put it. “She was the most nearly perfect mother, and daughter, and wife and parish supporter I’ve ever known. When she died, I guess I began assessing what she had given to the world and comparing it to what I as a nun give to the world, and for the first time I began questioning what my grandmother and the nuns always said, that a life as a religious was the epitome of service to God. I felt...” Sister Regina's voice dropped to a softer note. “... I felt as if they had lied to me. For Krystyna Olczak served God in as noble a way as I ever did. Perhaps nobler, for she had to do it without a book of holy rules that automatically takes care of all the vicissitudes of life. I am convinced that Krystyna Olczak is a saint today.”
“You may be right. Tell me, do you feel bitt
er about the years you’ve spent as a religious?”
“Bitter? No, Mother, not bitter at all. When I entered the postulate I felt dedicated to the way of life and believed it was God’s will for me, that His voice was within me and it was important and true. Lately I’ve spent much time in prayer and meditation, and I realize that His voice is still within me, and it’s just as important that I listen to it now as it was then. God isn’t just... well, He isn’t just out there somewhere...” She gestured to the world at large. “...He’s in here...” She tapped her heart. “He is, Mother Agnes. And I believe He’s guiding me in my present decision.”
Mother Agnes sat calm and thoughtful for a long while. Her elbows rested on the arms of her chair, hands joined, thumbs slowly circling. Outside the night wind made a faint whistle around the downspouts, and upstairs the hall floor creaked as someone tiptoed to the bathroom. “Well,” Mother Agnes said at last, the single word coming out on a soft gust of breath. “That’s a very powerful argument, Sister Regina. And I am the last one to try to convince you otherwise. This is your life, you must live it as you see fit.” This was not at all the response Sister Regina had expected. Her surprise showed.
“Do you mean that, Mother?”
“Of course I mean that. But let me say just one thing that I hope you’ll take to heart. There are very few nuns I’ve known who haven’t at one time or another questioned that they made the right choice. All but two decided to stay, and I believe all are happy with their choice, including me.”
“You considered leaving?”
“Yes, I did.” The older nun looked at her lap while remembering, and decided to share the story. “It was at a time when one of my real sisters, the one I was closest to when we were growing up, had just delivered her third stillborn baby, a beautiful full-term dead baby girl, the last one she would ever conceive. Afterward she asked for me. I went home and saw her tremendous sorrow, and her husband’s sorrow that they would never have any children, and I grew very angry with God.” The old nun paused and gazed down at her knees. “And while I was there, I ran into a doctor at the hospital who had been a young, handsome man the last time I’d seen him, a boy I dated in high school. He had recently lost his wife, and he confessed to me that he’d been in love with me all those years ago and I’d broken his heart when I entered the convent. There were... shall we say, temptations.”