Changing Habits

by Debbie Macomber

  Corinne’s words haunted her. If the Church was wrong about birth control, then what else might be a mistake? Angie was afraid to examine that question.

  “Angelina, Angelina,” her father crooned. “I’m taking you home with me.”

  She looked up at him, frowning. “I don’t think I can leave.”

  “You aren’t in jail. You need to come home.”

  She didn’t argue. She didn’t have the strength.

  “Go, collect what you need and send Sister Superior to speak to me.”

  With one exception—her insistence on becoming a nun—Angie had always followed orders. First from her father and then from the sisters who ran the order and the convents in which she’d lived. She never questioned authority, but accepted whatever she was told, did whatever she was asked. Her thoughts were subordinate to those of others—older, wiser people, whom she’d entrusted with her life.

  She stepped away from her father.

  “Go,” he ordered. “It’s time you left, time you realized this place is not for you. It never was, but I couldn’t refuse you.”

  Angie found Sister Eloise in the room where the other nuns sat and quietly worked or studied. “Sister,” she said, “my father is here.”

  “So I understand.” Her disapproval was evident.

  “He would like to speak to you.”

  Sister Eloise nodded. “He couldn’t have come during the day? It is highly unusual for family members to stop by unannounced this late in the evening.”

  “No,” she said without emotion. “He’s here now.”

  While Sister Superior met with her father, Angie went to her cell, pulled out her overnight case and packed her things. She placed her clothes neatly inside the case; it didn’t take long to pack. With her coat over one arm and her suitcase in the other, she returned to the foyer.

  Her father stood as she approached.

  “I can’t allow you to leave,” Sister Superior said, her expression severe.

  “You can’t stop us,” her father said, his jaw set. “I’ve come to take my Angelina home.”

  “Sister Angelina, I implore you to reconsider.”

  Without speaking, Angie moved closer to her father’s side.

  He took the suitcase from her hand and held open the door. The cold night air stung Angie’s face as she stepped into the darkness.

  “We’re going home, Angelina.”

  “Yes, Daddy. We’re going home.”

  33

  SISTER KATHLEEN

  Kathleen added cream to the large pot of mashed potatoes and turned on the hand mixer. Sean’s wife, Loren, was busy preparing the platter of turkey and stuffing for the dining room table.

  “Aunt Kathleen, Aunt Kathleen, help me,” four-year-old Emma cried as she chased the calico cat around and around Kathleen’s legs while two-year-old Paul sat in the middle of the room pounding on an overturned pot with a wooden spoon. The television blared in the background.

  “Emma, go see your daddy,” Loren said.

  “Daddy sent me in here.”

  The phone rang in the distance. “I’ll get it,” Sean shouted from the living room, where he was watching a football game. This was like no Thanksgiving Kathleen could remember. In Boston it was a huge family affair, with as many as twenty people, and her mother supervising in the kitchen. At the convent it had been another matter entirely, a formal and subdued celebration but with the same roasted turkey and pumpkin pie. With Sean and his family, it was three adults and the two children in a cramped two-bedroom house.

  Her brother, God love him, had taken Kathleen in on a moment’s notice. He’d even given her money for the flight to Seattle. She was well aware that she couldn’t continue to impose on Sean and his wife. She had to make a decision and move forward.

  “Kathleen,” her brother called, standing by the telephone.

  She turned off the mixer and peered around the corner. “Yes?”

  “Do you know a Father Brian Doyle?”

  She was so stunned all she could do was nod.

  “He’d like to speak to you.” Sean held out the receiver, and when she’d accepted it, he returned to his football game, but lowered the volume.

  “Father Doyle?” Kathleen asked, pressing the receiver to her ear.

  “Sister Kathleen, how are you?”

  “I’m well, and you?”

  “Good,” he said. “Good. It’s taken me this long to find you.”

  “I’m sorry, I should have contacted you.”

  “No one seemed to want to tell me where I could reach you,” he said. “I was finally able to locate your parents in Boston and they gave me this number.”

  “I’m in Seattle.”

  “So I understand.” He sounded out of breath. “What happened?”

  It all seemed too complicated to explain. In the two weeks since she’d left, Kathleen had made an effort to forget.

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  “I told Father Sanders I could no longer keep the books for him,” she said, going back to their conversation shortly before his move to Osseo. “Just like you suggested.”

  “Yes, that’s good, but apparently there was some kind of trouble afterward.”

  “There was,” she whispered. All at once she felt too weak to stand and sank down onto the sofa arm. “Father Yates decided to audit the books and almost immediately discovered the discrepancies.”

  She heard the slow release of Father Doyle’s breath. “I was afraid of something like that,” he muttered.

  “Then Father Yates contacted Sister Eloise.”

  His silence said everything. He knew without her elaborating how uncomfortable the situation had been.

  “I assume you didn’t explain that I was the one making up the shortfalls?” he said heavily.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” His voice was incredulous. “I would’ve stepped forward and told the truth. There was no need for you to go through this alone.” She heard him sigh. “In my eagerness to serve the bishop and help Father Sanders, I was more of a hindrance than anything else. Now I see I’m responsible for your troubles as well.”

  Kathleen disagreed. “I was ultimately the one in charge of the books. Not you. It was only right that I accept responsibility for my role in all this.”

  “But at what cost?” His words were angry—and regretful.

  She had no answer to give him.

  “Why did you leave the convent?” he asked next. “Or did Sister Eloise send you away?”

  “Sister Superior instructed me to return to Boston,” Kathleen said reluctantly. “But I chose to come to Seattle instead.”

  “But isn’t Boston your hometown?”

  “Yes, but I was going back in disgrace, an embarrassment to the order and I…I couldn’t. I just couldn’t look my parents in the eyes and tell them I’d done wrong.”

  “You didn’t,” Father Doyle insisted. “I was the one who—”

  “We both did,” Kathleen whispered.

  “Sister Kathleen, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  He had nothing to apologize for. Worse, he blamed himself for not being there to protect her.

  “It’s my fault,” he said. “I’m the one who should’ve been reprimanded. If I hadn’t tried to protect Father Sanders, none of this would have happened.”

  “I don’t think it’s necessary to assign blame, Father. What’s done is done.” Kathleen felt better just hearing his voice. She’d missed him terribly. Other than a few of the nuns she taught with, Father Doyle was her only friend; they’d shared this burden and helped each other and in the process had developed a certain closeness, careful though it was.

  “What can I do?” he asked, obviously distressed.

  “Do?” she repeated. “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe that. First thing tomorrow morning, I’m contacting the motherhouse and explaining the circumstances,” he said. “I refuse to allow you to be punished.”

  “Please don’t,�
�� Kathleen pleaded. “Father, I’m sincere about that. This business with Father Sanders and Father Yates has helped me.”

  “How?” He didn’t sound as though he believed her.

  “It’s clarified some issues I…hadn’t realized I needed to deal with.”

  “What issues?”

  “We don’t need to discuss those now.” Kathleen preferred not to delve into the whole complicated mess. She felt resentful and angry and misjudged. With Father Doyle gone, she’d been left vulnerable, facing a difficult situation on her own. She’d hoped, had believed that her own order would come to her defense; instead her superiors had condemned her without even hearing her version of events.

  “If that’s what you want.” Father Doyle didn’t seem happy with her reticence.

  “I do.” She felt strong, stronger than she had in a long while.

  “What about the future?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “You’re leaving the convent, aren’t you?”

  No one else had asked her that question. Not her brother or her sister-in-law, not her parents. Had they voiced it, Kathleen wasn’t sure how she would’ve responded, but the minute Father Doyle asked, the answer was clear.

  “Yes,” she whispered, “I’ve decided to leave.”

  She heard the priest’s harsh intake of breath. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  “I’m positive it’s the right decision,” she assured him. She stood, easing herself off the sofa arm. She had given nearly ten years of her life to the Church without ever truly questioning her vocation. But in that time, the world had changed—and so had she.

  “I called for another reason,” Father Doyle said. “I got word this morning that Father Sanders was in a car accident.”

  “No,” she gasped. “Was he drunk?”

  “Yes.”

  “How bad is it?” Her greatest fear was that Father Sanders had injured an innocent party or killed himself in a drunken crash.

  “He walked away from the accident and thank God no one else was hurt.”

  Kathleen murmured her fervent relief.

  “God used the accident to get Father the help I couldn’t,” the priest continued. “He was arrested for drunk driving and the judge placed him in a facility that specializes in the treatment of alcoholics.”

  She said a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

  “Unfortunately—” he sighed “—the press got hold of the story and it’s front-page news.”

  As far as Kathleen was concerned, it was Bishop Schmidt who’d brought the bad publicity down upon the diocese. If he’d listened to Father Doyle and taken steps to help Father Sanders earlier, the outcome might have been very different.

  “What about Father Yates?”

  The priest laughed softly. “He’s been promoted and will be assuming Father Sanders’s position as head of St. Peter’s.”

  Kathleen laughed, too.

  The line went quiet for a moment, and Kathleen supposed it was the end of their friendship. They had no reason to maintain contact. “Thank you, Father, for calling, and for telling me about Father Sanders.”

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

  “Would you mind…I mean, if it would be all right, I’d like to talk to you every now and then.” Where she got the courage to ask, she didn’t know. But he was a link with her past and she faced so many transitions as she moved toward the future. It would be good to have a special friend she could call when she needed to.

  “I’d like that, Sister Kathleen.”

  “Just Kathleen,” she corrected.

  “Kathleen,” he repeated softly. “Write down my number and phone me anytime you wish.”

  “Thank you.”

  After a few words of farewell, she replaced the receiver and looked up to see her brother and Loren and the two youngest O’Shaughnessys waiting by the table. She joined them, their Thanksgiving feast about to begin.

  “Are you ready?” Sean asked.

  Kathleen nodded. She was ready now for whatever the future held.

  Part 4

  OUT OF THE HABIT

  But small is the gate and narrow that leads to life and only a few find it.

  Matthew 7:14

  34

  KATHLEEN O’SHAUGHNESSY

  Sean and Loren insisted Kathleen stay with the family until after the Christmas holidays. By the first week of January, she realized she had to stop relying on her brother. It was time to make her own decisions and to begin relying on herself. Walking away from the convent the way she had, without a word to her superiors, had been an act of defiance and anger. Only recently had she been in touch with the motherhouse. The conversation had been brief; by mutual agreement it was determined that Kathleen would take a one-year leave of absence. She would continue to receive her small salary and she’d start attending classes at Seattle University. St. Bridget’s Sisters of the Assumption would pay her tuition fees.

  “Are you sure about this?” her brother asked as he loaded her suitcase into the trunk of his car. Retired from the Army, Sean worked at Boeing building airplanes and his wife stayed home with their children.

  “Of course, I’m sure,” Kathleen told him, although she was frightened out of her wits. She would be living in a group home called House of Peace, a facility set up by a group of former nuns who had dedicated themselves to helping other women like themselves move from the convent back into the world.

  Mother Superior had agreed to give Kathleen this year, with the stipulation that she would accept counseling. It was Sister Agnes’s fear that Kathleen’s desire to leave was primarily a reaction to the unfortunate circumstances with Father Sanders. Mother was afraid Kathleen would regret her decision later.

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help you,” Sean said, opening the car door.

  “You already have,” Kathleen said and impulsively hugged him. Nervous as she was, she found it difficult to release him. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and Loren these last two months.” It was disconcerting to have no home. She’d been under her parents’ roof until she’d entered the convent and now, when she was nearing age thirty, she had no place to call her own.

  “You’ll come see us soon, won’t you?” Loren asked, standing on the damp lawn with the two children leaning against her.

  “Of course I will,” Kathleen promised. “As often as you want.” Crouching, she held her arms open to her niece and nephew. Emma threw small arms around her neck, while two-year-old Paul hugged her upper arm. After a few moments, Loren pulled her protesting children free.

  Tears filled Kathleen’s eyes as her brother backed out of the driveway. “I can’t thank you enough,” she whispered, not wanting him to hear the emotion in her voice.

  “Mom and Dad think you should come home.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want to be a burden to them—or to you.”

  “You’re not a burden to me. And Mom and Dad would never think of you as a burden, either.”

  Perhaps not, but she was a disappointment to her family and she knew it. Kathleen didn’t have the emotional strength to answer her parents’ questions. Dealing with her new life was complicated enough.

  As for seeing a counselor, she welcomed the opportunity to talk about her feelings. Her one wish was that if she had to sort through all the emotions associated with leaving the convent, it be with a counselor she knew and trusted—preferably Father Doyle. The priest, however, was in Osseo, Minnesota, and she was in Seattle.

  “You’re going to be all right,” Sean assured her.

  “I know.” But she didn’t entirely believe it. The world outside the convent was a frightening place. Kathleen didn’t know what to expect or how to cope with all the changes that were hurtling toward her.

  “You can call Loren or me anytime.”

  “Thank you.” She swallowed hard.

  “It can be a cruel, lonely world when you’re alone,” her brother warned, “but you are
n’t alone. Remember that.”

  “I will.” It was as though Kathleen was in high school all over again and her big brother was giving her advice.

  She knew Sean was worried about her, but her brother had his own life and his own problems. Sooner or later, Kathleen needed to start taking care of herself, and there was no better time to learn than right now, at the beginning of a brand-new year. The world of 1973 was a different place than it had been ten years ago.

  When Sean pulled up in front of the House of Peace, Kathleen saw that it was a large, two-story white home with one large dormer above a screened-in porch. There was a trimmed laurel hedge on each side of the narrow walkway that led to the front steps. A Christmas wreath still hung on the door inside the porch, and she saw the welcoming glow of lamplight, dispersing a little of the day’s gloom.

  After a moment, with her brother at her side, Kathleen walked up the steps. She held her breath and rang the doorbell. Someone must’ve been waiting on the other side, because it opened immediately.

  “You must be Kathleen.” A woman of about sixty with short white hair and a pleasantly round figure greeted her. “I’m Kay Dickson. We spoke on the phone.”

  Kathleen felt warmed by Kay’s smile.

  “Come in, come in.” The other woman held open the door for them.

  Sean hesitated as he set down Kathleen’s suitcase. “I should be getting back home.” His eyes questioned her, as if he felt uncertain about leaving her at this stranger’s house.

  “I’ll be fine,” she told him, and in that instant she knew it was true.

  This was a new beginning for her. She could walk away from her life as Sister Kathleen with her head held high. Yes, there was some bitterness, some anger and hurt feelings, but she would learn to deal with that. Overall she had no regrets. She was ready for this second stage of her adulthood.

  “There are five others living here,” Kay explained as she led Kathleen up the stairs and showed her the bedroom reserved for her. It had a double bed, a dresser with a mirror and a nightstand that held a small lamp. This would be the first time in her life that she’d slept in a double bed. That room was luxury beyond anything she’d ever known.