Chapter 9

Sister Gabrielle put the pocketbook novel Cara had loaned her into the girl’s bookbag and carried it back to the convent. She laid the bookbag on the floor in her bedroom and sat on the side of the bed with her face cupped in her hands.

Cara was troubled and reaching out for help. Why Cara 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? Interestingly, Cara’s situation had some similarities with the second novel Cara 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 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. Loved the girl. At least what a sixteen-year-old knew about love. How could she help Cara? What did she know about love? Her love for Jesus was different. 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? Desiring someone? She felt that for Cara. Maybe that’s what love was.

But how could she help the girl? She had told Cara to tell the other girl that she loved her. She now realized she had made a mistake. Sister Gabrielle had been teased and bullied her entire childhood. She knew what that felt like. Chances are, the other girl wasn’t a lesbian so she wouldn’t have the same feelings toward Cara that Cara had for her. Cara would be ridiculed and teased by the other girls if they found out. And if Cara told the girl she loved her, they’d find out. It had been terrible advice. Advice that could leave permanent scars on the young girl if she followed it. 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. Only that children can 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.

“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 probably 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 with a foot on the ground. She hadn’t ridden a bicycle for a while. 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 was blowing 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. The few times she had ventured out of the safety of the convent grounds caused trepidation, and insecurity. But as she peddled to Cara’s house, she felt exuberance, freedom. At one time she even spread her legs out to the sides and glided down a hill with the wind blowing in her grinning face.

When Cara opened the front door to her house, it was the first time the nun had seen the girl out of her school uniform. She wore a loose pink tank top with shoulder straps and large armpit openings and very short black shorts. The sixteen-year-old must have been 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.

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

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

“Omigod!” Cara snatched it from Sister Gabrielle’s hand. “I’m sorry. 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 audible.

“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 sixteen. I can take care of myself. 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 you bringing me my bookbag.” Cara stepped back. “Come in.” She waited.

Sister Gabrielle entered the house, looking around as if she expected to be jumped by monsters. Cara was bubbly as she 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 short 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. But when Cara asked Sister Gabrielle about being a nun, she became solemn. She wanted to know how Sister Gabrielle knew. Why she had done it. Did she have regrets. Sister Gabrielle answered her questions, that she always knew and wanted to serve God and help others. Dedicate her life to that. She said she didn’t have regrets, but silently admitted to herself that she now had doubts.

When they finished eating, Sister Gabrielle insisted that she clean up. It was the least she could do. Cara stood by her side, still chatting.