“I don’t know what made me stay,” she said, looking miserable again. “I’ve never wanted children, now I even wonder about that. I’m probably too old. But I suddenly realize that I’ve spent nearly twenty years as a nun and now I’m not sure I should ever have been one. It’s an unnatural life. And the people who make the decisions far above us in the Church are just humans like us. What if their decisions are wrong? I think I want to be an ordinary person, not a nun, but just a nurse.”
“We are ordinary people, and yes, the Church does make mistakes. But they make good decisions too. There will always be some rotten apples in the barrel, in every situation, every group. But don’t forget there are good apples too. You’re one of them. A very good apple. I don’t want to see you give that up.”
“What if it’s wrong for me?” Hattie tried to plead her case, but the superior wasn’t swayed.
“Why would it be wrong now?” the superior challenged her, her eyes looking deep into Hattie’s. “Who turned you against this life of ours? You need to look at that.” They both knew Fiona Eckles had. Mother Elizabeth was fighting for her soul. And suddenly for the first time in eighteen years, Hattie wanted freedom. For more than just a year. She didn’t want the equivalent of a trial separation. She wanted a divorce.
“I’ll think about it,” Hattie said, looking anguished. She kissed the superior’s ring, left the office, and hurried off to work. She called her sister that night and told her what had happened.
“Why do you have to go to Africa? Why can’t you work with the poor here?” Hattie was exasperated. The mother superior didn’t want her to leave the religious order. And her sister didn’t want her to leave New York.
“I was happy there,” Hattie said, annoyed.
“Can’t you be happy here? Africa is dangerous, you could get sick or injured, or caught in an uprising of some kind. I don’t want you killed.”
“I’d rather be dead than wasting my life. And I’m beginning to think that’s what I’m doing here. I came in under false pretenses. I don’t belong here, Mel.”
“I’ve been telling you that for eighteen years. And now you believe me and want to leave. I don’t want to lose you, Hattie. You’re all I have.”
“You have Michaela now,” she reminded her.
“That’s not the same. You and I have history, our whole lives. Michaela is brand new.”
“She won’t be new forever. You’ll make a history with her. I need to do this. Africa is the only place where I felt I did some good.” Melissa didn’t know what to say to that. Hattie sounded frustrated.
“Just don’t rush into anything. This is a huge decision. You rushed into the convent. Now don’t rush out.”
“I said I’d think about it some more, and I will.” But she didn’t like the options. All of a sudden Hattie felt like she was in jail and wanted to be free. And it was ironic that, after years of opposition, now Melissa was encouraging her to stay in the order and remain a nun.
She stayed up late, reading and praying that night, and got nowhere.
Hattie knew she had done a good thing finding Michaela, but everything had changed when she did. Not only for Melissa and for Michaela, but for herself too. And in her case, not for the better. Michaela had been found. But she felt lost now.
* * *
—
Melissa was worried about her, and talked to Norm that night. He could see how upset Melissa was about her sister, although he wasn’t sure why. Hattie sounded like an intelligent woman and he trusted her to make the right decision.
“Would it be so terrible if she left the convent? I thought you weren’t happy about her being a nun.” He was confused by her reaction, after what she’d said when they first met.
“I wasn’t happy. Her going into the convent made no sense to me for all those years. Now I know why she went in. She’s been protected for all of her adult life. First by me, then by the Church. She’s an innocent. Look what happened to her when she got raped.”
“She was twenty-five years old then. Now she’s forty-three. She’s not naïve.”
“She’s never lived on her own, or had to pay rent or take care of herself. Now she wants to go to Africa. What’ll happen to her there? She could be killed.”
“She could be killed crossing the street in the Bronx, or mugged leaving the hospital at the end of her shift. She loves it there. Maybe she needs her freedom. Maybe she wants to marry and have kids, it’s not too late.” Melissa looked shocked at the idea.
“It’s taken me eighteen years to get used to the idea of her being a nun. Now she wants to quit.”
“Mel, there are chapters in our lives. I’ve had them, you too. My marriage was right when I did it, and so wrong nine years later, or even five. It ended for you with Carson. You had a huge success as a writer, now you’re done. Maybe she’s just tired of being a nun.”
“You’re not supposed to get tired of that,” she said, and he smiled.
“She’s human. People change. Maybe she’s outgrown it. She seems to have had some kind of crisis of faith. She should have the right to leave if she wants to.”
“I agree with the mother superior. She should take a year to think about it.”
“Maybe she will. But your worrying won’t change anything. She’s a smart woman. Trust her to make the right decision for herself.”
“I never thought so before because I don’t like nuns. But I think the convent suits her. She was happy there before.” Mel was being stubborn about it. She was frightened for her sister if she stepped out into the world.
“I was happy with my wife when I married her. We would have killed each other if we’d stayed married.” She knew that what he said was true, but she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted Hattie to stay in the little pigeonhole where she’d been for nearly twenty years, not fly off the branch into open skies. It was too risky.
When she said it to Norm, he shook his head. “Maybe she wants a little risk in her life. Not a lot, but just enough to feel she has a voice in her own fate. Let’s see what she does before you panic.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing I never had to deal with my kids growing up. The stress of it would have killed me.”
“Just remember, your sister isn’t a teenager. She’s forty-three years old, six years younger than you are.”
“She’s never had to fend for herself. And as soon as she did, she ran straight into the convent to hide. That tells you something.”
“All it tells me is that she was severely injured when she got raped, and did the only thing she could think of. She’s grown up.”
“Africa is not safe, even as a nun.”
“It’s what she loves.”
“She’s running away again.”
“Maybe she is. She has the right to. You hid here for four years, before you opened the door and took a chance on life again. We all have to do it our own way.”
“What makes you so wise?” she said, and kissed him with a sigh.
“I’m older than you are,” he reminded her wryly.
“Five months.”
“I guess it makes a difference. Why don’t you let your sister figure this out for herself. She may decide to stay in the convent in the end.”
“I hope so,” Melissa said fervently.
* * *
—
Hattie spent the days after her meeting with Mother Elizabeth researching organizations that ran hospitals, orphanages, and refugee encampments in Africa where there were children, and where they needed medical assistance and hired nurses. The best ones she found were run by the Catholic Church or the United Nations. She had been stationed in two of the Church-run ones during her two years there. But there was a refugee camp for orphans run by the UN that caught her attention. What she read about it said that many of the children arrived at the camp in such dire condi
tion that they died. It sounded like a hardship post, and was in the bush. Most of the children were orphaned as a result of tribal wars. The young girls were frequently taken as sex slaves by their captors, even as young as ten if they were mature. AIDS was rampant, cholera, typhoid, starvation. There were several photographs of the camp online, and she stared at them with tears in her eyes. She knew those faces, and had seen so many children like them. There was little one could do, but if you managed to save one life, or even a few, it was a victory for the human race. Looking at them, she knew she didn’t need children of her own. Working with children in such desperate need was enough for her. This was her vocation. She had known it when she was in Africa. She had hated to leave, and longed to go back ever since.
She called the phone number on the website and got caught in the cyber tangle of voicemails, pressing buttons until she reached a human voice. She managed to get an appointment for later in the week, and the next day got permission to leave work early on the appointed day.
Her whole body felt electrified when she walked into the UN office. There was an African woman at a desk, a tall young man with a Swedish accent, and another man who was older and French. Her appointment was with the woman, and they walked into a glass cubicle, where she questioned Hattie intensely about what she’d done in Africa previously, and her motives to return and for wanting the job. She had brought copies of her nursing certificates with her. And she leveled with her.
“I’m a nun. I have been for almost nineteen years. I am planning to ask to be released from my vows in the near future. It’s my choice. I’m not being asked to leave. And I want to go back to Africa to do the kind of work I did there. Your camps for orphans offer what I’d like to do. I’d prefer to work with children. I love the work.” Her eyes lit up as she said it, and the woman smiled. She had a face like a tribal sculpture, and was beautiful in her native dress.
“We all love it. That’s why we do it.”
“I finally realized that I don’t have to stay in the convent to do this kind of work. I can do it as a layperson.” She put her CV down in front of her. “I can supply references from my order and the bishop, and the people I worked with in Kenya.” The UN worker nodded, and took her seriously.
“Languages?”
“Enough French to get by and conduct an examination. I learned some words in local dialects. We had translators when we needed them.”
“So do we. They might need you more in the hospital, as a surgical nurse. We don’t get enough trained people from the United States.” And her credentials were good.
She brought a man in then. The three of them spoke for a few minutes. He said he was Dutch. He had grown up in Zimbabwe and was in New York on a special project for three months, and then he was going back.
“It’s addictive,” he said to Hattie. He was about her age. “I’m a doctor, and my family want me back in Holland, or Europe at least, so I’m closer to them. Maybe when I’m old. But for now, this is what I need to do.” He had a slightly disheveled look, intelligent eyes, and a kind face.
“Me too,” Hattie said simply. She was sure now that she was on the right path.
She spent two hours with them. They told her that they would get in touch after the review board evaluated her CV. They would contact her if they wanted references, which would mean that she had passed to the next phase of the process.
“How often do you send people?”
“Every three or four months we send another team out, of varied nationalities and abilities, nurses, doctors, technicians. A team just left a few weeks ago. The next one will leave in about two months.” It wasn’t long enough to get released by the order. Final confirmation would come from Rome in a year, or even two, but she could start the process.
“Will it matter if I’m not released yet?”
The Dutch doctor answered her. “That’s between you and your order, it’s not our concern. All that matters to us is that your medical certificates are in order, and they appear to be. Everything looks up to date. And of course your references matter to us too. We’ve only just started signing people up for the next team. We’ll note your preference for the children’s camp, but we can’t promise that’s where you’ll end up. It’s all about what they need on the ground.” She nodded. That made sense to her. He mentioned salary then. She had been about to ask him. It was low, but enough for her needs in Africa, and about what she expected.
At the end of the interview, she thanked them, and the three of them shook hands. Hattie felt calm, and strong and sure. She felt absolutely certain she was doing the right thing.
She didn’t tell anyone she’d been there, and she waited until she heard from them again three weeks later. They were ready for her references. She had passed the first phase. They wanted to know how soon she’d be able to leave after she was approved.
“Very quickly,” she said. But it meant that she had to start dealing with the paperwork, and they gave her a list of vaccinations that she’d need.
She hadn’t said a word to Mother Elizabeth yet, or to her sister, but she knew she had to now.
She was quiet at dinner that night, and avoided the mother superior’s eyes. She asked to speak to her after dinner.
When she walked into her office, looking serious, Mother Elizabeth knew. Sister Mary Joseph was still standing when she spoke to her.
“I’ve made a decision about the leave of absence you offered me, Mother. It’s a generous offer. But I’m sure. I want to be released from my vows.”
“Do you know what you want to do now?”
“I’m going back to Africa, with a United Nations medical team. I spoke to them a few weeks ago, and I just passed the first phase of the application process. I’ll need references from you and the bishop’s office.”
“When would you leave?”
“I don’t know yet. In about six or eight weeks. I’d like to start the papers for Rome before I go.” Mother Elizabeth nodded and had tears in her eyes.
“I’m very sad to see you go, and sadder to see you leave the order. But I have a feeling this is the right thing for you. It’s what you love, and they run excellent facilities and teams. Does your sister know?”
“Not yet.” Hattie looked equally serious, but there wasn’t a tremor of doubt in what she said. “If I may, I’ll go to see her this weekend.” The superior nodded.
“You can stay here until you take off for Africa. We’re going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Mother. I hope I do a good job there.”
“You will. You did before. You have a gift.” There was no reproach in what she said, no bitterness. She came around the desk and hugged her and looked into her eyes. “You’re going to do a wonderful job. We’ll be praying for you.”
Hattie was too moved to speak. When she left the mother superior’s office, there were tears rolling down her cheeks. As she gently closed the door behind her, she had no regrets.
Chapter 16
Norm came in from his office later than usual on Friday evening. He was working on plans for three new clients, for houses he was going to build for them in the spring. He liked two of the architects involved very much, and was struggling with the third one, a bossy woman from New York. He looked tired when he sat down at the kitchen table. He was too tired to make dinner and Melissa made a salad and put two steaks on the grill for them. He told her about the progress they’d made that day. They were all going to be handsome houses, showplaces, and each one very different.
It had snowed a lot in the last few weeks, and the remains of the children’s snowman were still standing. Melissa had been trapped in the house reading on most days.
“Have you heard from your sister lately?” he asked her when they finished dinner. “Is she okay since the retreat?”
“She’s acting weird,” Melissa said, looking faintly annoyed. “I hav
en’t heard from her much recently. I hope she hasn’t done anything hasty. She’s still impulsive, even at her age. She called me yesterday. She’s going to come up for the day tomorrow, so I’ll catch up on her news.”
“She’s probably still trying to figure out what to do. It’s a big decision.”
Melissa nodded. Hattie had been quiet, but Michaela was calling her regularly, once or twice a week, just to chat. Melissa loved it. They both did. She had said that Marla was back on location, in the wilds of Scotland somewhere, freezing, working on her latest film.
They went to bed early that night, and were both in a deep sleep when the phone rang at two a.m. Melissa answered it because the phone was on her side of the bed, but all she could hear was sobbing. There was no other sound at the other end, just jagged crying and sharp intakes of breath. Melissa was afraid it might be Hattie, having some kind of breakdown over the decisions she was making, or with flashbacks from the rape. She had mentioned having nightmares ever since she spoke to the police.
“Who is this?” Melissa said calmly and clearly, as Norm sat up next to her, looking concerned. He couldn’t hear the sobbing, but the look on Melissa’s face and her voice told him something was wrong. “Who is it? Hattie, is that you?”
A thin voice finally came through the phone. “It’s Michaela. It’s Marla…she…”
“All right, sweetheart, take a breath. Try to be calm and tell me what happened.” Her voice was instantly gentler, and she was relieved that whatever the problem was, it was Marla, not one of the children. Maybe she was sick.
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