Waiting to Believe by Sandra Bloom Page B

turned to Kacey, her anger barely contained. “So, Sister Mary Laurence, you are the artist with the filthy mind. Why am I not surprised?”
    â€œIt was just a joke, Mother Mary. I meant no harm. I’m sorry.” And for good measure, she added, “Very sorry.”
    â€œOh, how easy it is for you to say you’re sorry! Words are shallow, Sister. Do you know what I think? I think you have too much time on your hands.” Her eyes narrowed. “Tomorrow is Saturday. Report to the community room after breakfast. I know a way to put some elbow grease into your apology.”
    Kacey shuddered inwardly. “Yes, Mother Mary.”
    Now the attention was turned to Lori. “As for you, Sister Mary Callistus, I have not known you to be a troublemaker. I’m afraid you’ve been led into mischief by a master. My advice to you is to avoid such influences in the future if you wish to remain in my good graces.”
    â€œYes, Mother Mary.”
    â€œEveryone, finish dressing. Go directly to the chapel for matins and remain there in prayer and repentance for your worldly foolishness. You will all go without breakfast today.” She whirled around and headed for the door, stopping long enough to hiss, “Not a word now! Not a word!” The door slammed behind her.

    Mother Mary Bernard was waiting for Kacey when she arrived in the community room promptly at seven o’clock the next morning. There was a look of determination on the mistress’s face as she greeted her young charge. “I hope you slept well, Sister Mary Laurence.”
    â€œI did, Mother Mary. Thank you for asking.”
    â€œWell, I believe you’ll need your strength for the task ahead.”
    Kacey frowned. “And what is that, Mother Mary?” She struggled to maintain a pleasant, subservient tone. Her insides were raging.
    Mary Bernard led her to the walk-in closet at the far end of the long room. Throwing open the double doors, Kacey saw that it was overflowing with odds and ends, from portable sewing machines, to boxes of fabric, to cartons of number 2 pencils, to table fans and jigsaw puzzles.
    â€œAs you can see,” Mother Mary Bernard said with a slight trace of glee in her voice, “this closet has fallen into disarray. I want you to carry each item to the other end of the room and stack them all in neat rows on the floor there.”
    â€œPile them on the floor?”
    â€œYes, in preparation for returning them to the closet and storing them more efficiently.”
    Kacey was puzzled. “Well, couldn’t I just pile them right outside the closet instead of carrying them to the other end?”
    â€œNo, you couldn’t, Sister. This is an exercise in discipline. I want you to think about your transgression with each step.”
    â€œYes, Mother Mary.”
    â€œAnd when you’ve completed the task,” a small pause, “start over again.” Her eyes were cold as she waited for Kacey’s reaction.
    â€œStart over?” Kacey was incredulous.
    â€œStart over and continue through the day. You may break for lunch.”
    â€œMother Mary—” Kacey began but quickly caught herself. She would not allow this superior to make her beg for mercy. She would not be broken.
    Out of the corner of her eye, she could see sisters sitting at tables and on couches throughout the room. All watching the exchange. “Yes, Mother Mary,” she said in her most compliant voice. A long, humiliating day stretched before her. She was resigned to her punishment. She was unyielding in her rebellious spirit.
    20
    The summer of ’63 was hot and dry. Stifled by the routine of her life, Kacey found little pleasure in it. Most of all, she missed the stimulation of literature classes, the excitement of drama class. Now she was steeped in the search for deeper knowledge of the Fathers of the Church, the seven sacraments of the Church, the corporal and the spiritual works