Chapter 9

Sister Gabrielle lifted Cara’s bookbag onto her desk. It was heavy. Could the weight be solely from her books? The nun wanted to snoop, to see what else the girl had in there, but she knew that was an invasion of privacy. She was trying to get the girl to trust her, to confide in her. How was she going to help Cara if the girl didn’t trust her?

Sister Gabrielle unzipped the bookbag only enough to slip the pocketbook novel Cara had loaned her into it. Then she slung it on her shoulder and carried it back to the convent where she laid the bookbag on the floor in her bedroom and sat on the side of the bed with her face buried in her hands.

Cara was troubled and reaching out to her for help. Why the girl had chosen her, Sister Gabrielle did not know. Maybe because she was younger than the other nuns. But what did she know about teenage crushes? Sister Gabrielle had never had a crush. Had never even been on a date. In high school, she had been a loner, uncomfortable around the boys and avoiding the girls because they had been cruel.

Sister Gabrielle desperately wanted to help Cara, but how? Was it coincidence that Cara’s situation had some similarities with the second novel the girl had loaned her? In the novel, the heroine was tortured by being attracted to women. She tried to do what society expected of her by dating men, but none of the relationships were satisfactory because she was a closet lesbian. And the coworker had actually married a man even though deep down she was attracted to women. Thankfully, they found each other and lived happily ever after.

Like the heroine in the novel, Cara was also struggling. Conflicted. But unlike the heroine, she knew she liked a girl. She had admitted to being in love with the girl. At least what a teenage girl thought love was. It took a lot of courage for Cara to confess that to Sister Gabrielle. But Cara wasn’t confessing. She wasn’t admitting a sin. She was reaching out for help. And the only help Sister Gabrielle had given her was for Cara to tell the girl that she loved her. That hadn’t worked out well for the heroine in the novel when she first showed affection to the married woman. Sure, in the novel it all worked out at the end because the married woman was also a closet lesbian without knowing it. But that was a novel, pure fiction. Real life was different.

Sister Gabrielle shivered. Oh no! What if Cara took her advice and told the girl that she loved her? The non-worldly nun realized she had made a mistake. The girl wouldn’t be a lesbian. She’d reject Cara. Probably run from her as if she were a leper. That would be devastating for a young, vulnerable girl like Cara. And, worse, word would get out and then Cara would be scorned and made fun of just like she had been in high school. Sister Gabrielle carried those emotional scars to this day. And for her in high school, it was stupid stuff like not shaving her legs. Cara telling a girl that she loved her was much worse.

Could Sister Gabrielle even help Cara? What did she know about love? Her love for Jesus was a different kind of love. Her love for her parents was different. Sister Gabrielle slid her hands off her face and stared at the bedroom wall. Was love caring about someone? Sister Gabrielle cared about all her students. That wasn’t the love Cara felt for the girl. How about desiring someone? At times she desired Cara. That was hard to admit, but it was true. But was desire love? Up until Cara, Sister Gabrielle had never felt that way for anyone, boy or girl. But it wasn’t love. Not like people who got married. It was physical. Something Sister Gabrielle had to come to terms with. But that would have to wait. Cara’s problem came first.

Sister Gabrielle had to talk to the girl. Right now, before Cara ruined her life by following her advice. Advice from a nun who didn’t know much about the secular world. She only knew that children could be cruel.

Sister Gabrielle snatched Cara’s bookbag off the floor and dashed out of her bedroom to the Reverend Mother’s office. The door was open, but she waited at the doorway to be asked in. The Reverend Mother looked up from the papers on her desk and peered above the wire-rimmed reading glasses sitting on the tip of her nose.

“Reverend Mother, I need to run an errand.”

“Now? What type of errand?”

Sister Gabrielle held up Cara’s bookbag. “One of my students left this in my office. I need to return it.”

“Give it to her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday. She needs it for the weekend. She has homework to do, and studying.”

“Then she shouldn’t have forgotten it. Children need to learn responsibility. Next time she won’t forget it.”

“Reverend Mother, it was my fault.”

“How could it be your fault?”

Sister Gabrielle paused. The Reverend Mother was the most pious person she had ever known. She hated lying to her, but...

“Reverend Mother, I kicked her out of my office in a hurry. I guess she was discombobulated. I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t late to dinner. It’s my fault. Please, Reverend Mother, may I bring her the bookbag?”

“Who is it?”

“Cara Doyle.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“No. I didn’t think of that.”

The Reverend Mother rolled her chair to a gray metal filing cabinet. She slid open the drawer labeled “A–D” and thumbed through folders at the rear, pulling out Cara Doyle’s. She brought it to her desk, opened it, and copied Cara’s address on a piece of paper. She held the paper out to Sister Gabrielle.

“Do you know where Elmhurst Road is?” the Reverend Mother asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s not far. You can borrow one of our bicycles. You know how to ride, don’t you?”

“Yes, Reverend Mother.”

“We won’t hold dinner for you.”

“I know, Reverend Mother.”

“Then go with God.”

Sister Gabrielle carried Cara’s bookbag to where the convent’s bicycles were housed, chose one, and placed the bookbag in the wire basket in front of the handlebars. She hitched her long habit up a little so that it wouldn’t catch in the bicycle chain and pushed down on the pedal. The bicycle tilted to the side. Sister Gabrielle stopped the fall by slamming a foot on the ground. She hadn’t ridden a bicycle in years. It’s like riding a bicycle, she thought as she took a deep breath before trying again. The bicycle wobbled until she picked up speed. Soon the breeze blew in her face as she peddled.

Sister Gabrielle hadn’t left the convent grounds much in the time she had been there. The comfort of being with others like her provided peace and security. The few times she had ventured out of the safety of the convent grounds caused trepidation. But as she peddled to Cara’s house, she felt exuberance, freedom. At one point she even spread her legs out to the sides and glided down a hill with the wind blowing in her grinning face.

Finding Cara’s house, Sister Gabrielle left the bicycle at the bottom step to the front porch. She climbed the three steps and rang the doorbell. When Cara opened the door, it was the first time the nun had seen the girl out of her school uniform. She wore very short black shorts and a loose pink tank top with shoulder straps that had large armpit openings. The teenager was a late bloomer because her breasts were not much larger than two oranges, but her nipples, unencumbered by a bra now that she was out of her school clothes, poked out the thin material of the tank top. The shorts were extremely short. Sister Gabrielle took it all in.

Cara gasped. “Sister Gabrielle, what are you doing here?”

The nun held the bookbag out. “Forget something?”

“Oh, my god!” Cara snatched it from Sister Gabrielle’s hand. “I’m sorry. In your office, right?”

“That’s right.”

“And you brought it to me? I didn’t know they let you out.”

“The convent isn’t a prison.”

“It sort of is.”

“We don’t feel like prisoners. It’s our choice to be there.”

Cara looked down and then back up. “If you wanted to leave, could you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I mean, can a nun stop being a nun?”

“Some do. But not many. We chose this life.”

“Oh.” Cara’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard.

“Your mother’s book is in your bag,” Sister Gabrielle said. “Don’t open the bag in front of her.”

“Mom’s not here.”

“Then your father.”

“I don’t have a father. He died a few years ago.”

“What! You’re all alone?”

“Mom had to go on a trip for a few days.”

“And she left you alone?”

“I’m old enough! I’m not a baby, you know. I can take care of myself. I cook and everything. Hey, did you have dinner yet?”

“No, I’m going to miss it.”

“Because I forgot my bookbag and you brought it to me.”

“You needed it.” Sister Gabrielle chuckled. “Anyway, it got me out of the prison.”

Cara laughed. “Sister, I was making a tuna sandwich. I can make you one, too.”

“Oh no. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother. I would like the company. It gets lonely. There’s nothing good on TV anyway.”

“I don’t think—”

“C’mon, it’s the least I can do for you for bringing me my bookbag.” Cara stepped back. “Come in.”

The girl waited.

Sister Gabrielle entered the house, looking around as if she expected to be jumped by monsters. A bubbly Cara led the nun to the kitchen.

“Sit, sit,” Cara said, “I’ll make your sandwich.”

Sister Gabrielle sat at the dinette table and watched her young student prepare the sandwich. With her back to Sister Gabrielle, the nun saw how skimpy the girl’s shorts really were. They didn’t cover her entire buttocks and the bottom of her green panties stuck out. She was about to ask Cara if she wore the shorts outside the house, but bit her tongue. It was none of her business. She wasn’t there as a nun or teacher. Sister Gabrielle’s forehead creased. What was she there as?

It was a pleasurable experience for Sister Gabrielle to eat without having to remain silent, although Cara did most of the talking. The girl’s eyes lit up when she talked about clothing, sometimes being so excited that she forgot her mouth was full of partially chewed tuna fish mixed with mayonnaise. At first Sister Gabrielle thought it was disgusting and was going to reprimand Cara, like a parent to a child, but after a while it didn’t bother the nun. It was kind of cute seeing Cara so bubbly. But when Cara asked Sister Gabrielle about being a nun, the girl became solemn. She wanted to know how Sister Gabrielle knew. Why she had done it. Did she have regrets. Sister Gabrielle answered her questions. Told her that she had always known that she wanted to serve God and help others. Dedicate her life to that. It was her calling and she didn’t have regrets.