 
SISTERS

by

Meredith Rae Morgan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Meredith Morgan

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. The characters, events and circumstances depicted here are imaginary (or, more accurately they are something of a fantasy for me). Any resemblance between the characters or events herein and any real people or events is purely coincidental.

This book is dedicated to the many wonderful nuns and priests who taught me the value of making commitments and keeping them, and especially the ones who were courageous enough to encourage their students to follow their own conscience, even if it meant challenging the status quo.

## Charlotte

Charlotte Rose Jefferson was born at home on her family's farm near Gallipolis, Ohio. She never knew her exact birth date, but she believed she was born in 1938. She had three older brothers and one younger one. Her father worked on a river barge on the Ohio River and was gone for long periods of time, leaving her mother to care for the family, alone, on a farm that was approximately six miles from the nearest town. Their old truck broke down frequently, and, even more frequently, they couldn't afford to put gas in it. The children often had to walk to the store to buy supplies and then lug the groceries home. More often than not, they did not have the money to pay for what they needed, in which case they begged the store owner to give them credit or made such a pitiful scene that one of the other customers would give them some money. Frequently, one or two of the kids would create a distraction and the others would simply steal what they needed.

Charlotte never remembered her mother leaving the farm for any reason.

None of the children attended school. Occasionally truant officers nosed around, but the children hid and their parents denied they had any children, although they did occasionally admit to having some nieces and nephews "visiting for a while." Since all of the children had been born at home and none of the births had been recorded, the school had little information to go on in order to enforce the mandatory school attendance laws. As a consequence, all of the children were illiterate and almost completely ignorant of the world outside of the farm.

The boys worked the tobacco fields while their mother and Charlotte tended the vegetable garden and took care of the house. The children were not allowed to play with other kids. Other than their excursions to the grocery store, they were not allowed to leave the property. Their mother was a dour woman who rarely said anything to them other than to give them orders. They had no telephone and no TV. Their parents had a radio, but it was in the bedroom and the children were not allowed to listen to it. There were no books in the house. Later, Charlotte remembered her childhood as a dark and mean existence.

Their sole potential source of entertainment was a battered and hopelessly out-of-tune piano that had gathered dust in the parlor since Charlotte's grandmother died when Charlotte was a baby. Charlotte was fascinated by the piano and knew that somehow it could give great pleasure if she could figure out what to do with it. She was not allowed to touch it, but she spent hours every week contemplating the wonderful things it might be able to do. For Charlotte, the mysteries of the piano made it an almost an object of worship, which was the closest thing she knew to religious faith in a family that had no religion.

Charlotte's passion was baking bread and pastries. She learned to cook at a very young age, and she loved to bake. By the time she was ten or so, she had taken over full responsibility for providing bread, biscuits, pies and, occasionally (when they had eggs), cakes for the family. Baking was the one thing that gave her pleasure as a child. It made her feel she was contributing something valuable to her family, and that gave her a sense of purpose. Moreover, the kinesthetic experience of the touch, feel and smell of baked goods – particularly bread – nurtured her sensuous nature, perhaps more than her mother would have permitted had she known about Charlotte's feelings.

Life alone with her mother and the boys on the farm when their father was away was grim and hard. Life on the farm when Papa was home was hell on earth. Charlotte described him as a mean, hateful drunk who terrorized the household. He was physically abusive to the boys, and emotionally and verbally abusive to his wife and Charlotte. Charlotte could not recall her father ever hitting her or her mother, although her mother occasionally turned up with bruises on her arms. He beat the boys with whatever was handy whenever he lost his temper, but the worst beatings were conducted in the barn – with a belt.

The entire family lived in fear when their father was at home. Fortunately, during Charlotte's early years, he was rarely home more than a few days at a time.

At intervals the oldest two boys left home. One day her oldest brother was gone when the family got up. They never heard from him again. Two years later, the next brother disappeared in the same way. Neither of the parents ever mentioned either of the boys again. Charlotte missed them terribly. For a while. Until they were reduced to vague sore spots in her memory.

When Charlotte was about fifteen, her father was seriously hurt on his job. He spent several weeks in bed recovering from his injuries, and the children came to understand (from eavesdropping on conversations between their parents) that he would not be able to return to his job on the river.

Early one morning Charlotte's remaining older brother cornered her in the barn. He said he thought it was time to discuss what the kids should do now that their father would be staying home for good. He told her that, as bad as he had been before, he reckoned that things would get much worse if Pa was going to be home all the time – and in pain, to boot. Charlotte's older brother was about seventeen; Charlotte was a year or two younger; the baby was seven. Charlotte and her brother decided to run away and take their little brother with them, to keep him out of harm's way.

The children had never been further from home than the grocery. They were totally illiterate. They didn't even know the name of their home town. They had been taught to fear and mistrust outsiders. Still, they felt they had to risk venturing out in the world to avoid the abuse at home, and – most importantly – to keep their little brother safe.

That night each of the older children packed a change of underwear and socks in a sack. Charlotte packed some clothes for little Jerry and stripped the blankets from both their beds. Then she stole some bread and a jar of jelly from the pantry. Before dawn, they roused Jerry, and the three of them sneaked off into the woods. They got far enough away from the house to feel safe until dawn, but not so far as to get too close to the river and risk falling in. There, they huddled against a tree until the sun came up.

The children stayed in the woods for fear their parents would come after them. (That didn't happen.) They walked a whole day in the woods, venturing near the highway only a couple of times in order to get water and allow Charlotte to use the bathroom at gas stations. The next morning they were out of food and it threatened to rain. They were near a town, so remote hiding places were becoming harder to find.

They came across a house with a detached garage, so they sneaked into the garage and hid just before the storm broke. To their delight they discovered the owners of the house had a spare refrigerator in the garage as well as a storage pantry filled with dry goods and canned food. The refrigerator contained such magnificent treats as soft drinks (the kids had heard their father talk about "pop" but they had never tasted it) and grapefruit. They loaded up on soda, grapefruit and canned peaches. Then, after the sugar high wore off, they all collapsed into an exhausted sleep, curled up in a heap like puppies, in the far corner of the garage.

That is how the woman who owned the home found them late in the afternoon, after the storm passed and she went to the garage to check for leaks.

She had a pretty good idea who they were. She was on the local School Board and she had heard for years about the "wild children" out at the Jefferson place whose very existence the parents denied, but who showed up periodically at the A&P to beg for and/or steal groceries. The word had gone around that the old man was off the river for good due to an injury that had been nearly fatal. The woman didn't have to ask why the kids were sleeping in her garage. Everybody around knew that Old Man Jefferson was a mean drunk in public. They assumed he was no better at home.

She went into the house and added potatoes and more vegetables to the soup she had put on for dinner. Then she went to the attic and dug through boxes of her children's old clothes that she had saved because she couldn't make herself part with them. She had been meaning to get rid of that stuff for years. Now it would serve a purpose.

After pulling out a few outfits she thought might fit the refugees in her garage, she went back outside, woke them up and shooed them into the house where she ordered them to bathe and change clothes if they wanted any supper. None of them was terribly fond of bathing, but the smell of the soup was incentive enough to ensure their cooperation.

Charlotte took a quick bath and then bathed her little brother in one bathroom while Charlie took a shower in another bathroom. Charlotte was schocked that one house would have two bathrooms with indoor running water and bathtub that you didn't have to fill with hot water from the stove.

They ate soup and home-made bread with cherry pie for dessert. Charlotte thought the pie crust was a bit gooey, but she didn't say anything because the woman was so kind, and she didn't want to hurt the lady's feelings by criticizing her cooking. Charlotte hoped she might have the opportunity to show the lady how to make a good pie-crust that flaked properly, by way of gratitude. The woman bedded them down in separate rooms after dinner. Jerry was afraid, and came in to Charlotte's room where he slept with her.

The next morning Charlie was gone.

The woman was concerned and wondered out loud if they should call the police. Charlotte pleaded, "Oh, ma'am, please don't call the law. Charlie'll be okay. He'll probably find the Army. I think that's where the other boys went."

"How many children are there in your family."

"Two older than Charlie (they went away a while ago). Then Charlie. Then me. Jerry is the baby."

Charlotte and Jerry spent a couple of days with the lady. On the third day, she sat down with Charlotte at the table after dinner and said, "We need to talk about what to do next. You and Jerry can't stay here. Do you want to go home?"

Charlotte chuckled, "No, ma'am, we don't want to go home. Do you want us to go on our way?"

The woman shook her head, "No. I am not going to simply put you out on the street. I want you to be safe, but legally I can't let you stay here. Besides, you are still too close to home. I'm afraid your father will hear that you are with me and come after you."

Charlotte involuntarily shuddered and managed, somehow, not to cry. She asked, "What do you think we should do?"

"Do you know what an orphanage is?"

"No."

"It's a place where children go when they can't go home."

Charlotte made a face and said, "I guess that sounds like the kind of place Jerry and me ought to go. Where can we find one of these orf'nages?"

"There are several around, but I think the best place for you would be the one run by the Franciscan Sisters in Columbus."

"What's Columbus?"

"It's the capital of Ohio?"

"What's Ohio?"

"You mean to tell me you don't know where you are from?"

"I'm from a farm by the river."

"What is your address."

"What's an address?"

"What is your home town?"

"We don't live in no town. We live on a farm. Pa works on the river. Or he used to 'fore he got hurt real bad. Now he's home for good."

"Is that why you left?"

Charlotte thought for a while before she answered, but decided to be honest, "Yes'm. Pa's pretty mean ordinarily. We figured he'd be meaner than ever, what with him bein' hurt and with no work to do."

"The orphanage I have in mind is in Columbus. That's some distance away."

"Mebbe that's a good thing. Papa won't be able to find us there."

"That's my thinking."

"How can we get there?"

"I'll take you."

"Thank you, ma'am."

The next morning, the woman loaded Charlotte and Jerry in her car with a small sack of clothes for each of them and she headed the car north. It was the first time either Charlotte or Jerry had been in a car. At first Charlotte thought she might be sick from the motion, but soon she was too distracted by the scenery to think about being sick. Jerry fell asleep almost as soon as the car started moving. As they entered the city, Charlotte was astonished by the size of the buildings and the speed of the cars whizzing around her.

Eventually they stopped in a parking lot behind a long red brick building that adjoined a smaller structure, also made of red brick. Jerry was too overwhelmed and terrified to speak. The woman led them into the large building where another woman in very strange clothes greeted them and showed them into a small room with a table and chairs. Jerry sat on Charlotte's lap. The woman who brought them to that place sat next to her. A man in a suit came into the room with another woman who was carrying a pad of paper and a pen. She sat at a table in the corner and took notes. Charlotte understood intuitively the woman was transcribing the conversation.

The man asked, "What are your names?"

"Charlotte and Jerry (Jerome) Jefferson."

"What are your birth dates?"

She hesitated. "I'm not exactly sure about mine, sir. Jerry was born on December 5, 1950. I'm not sure when I was born, but I figger I'm about sixteen. Jerry was two when I came into my woman's ways." She blushed, and stopped.

The man made a note. "You know about woman's ways?"

"Yes, sir. When I come into it, my ma gave me a calendar thing and she tole me to mark on it when I came into my time." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a grimey ten-year calendar that started in 1951. Charlotte had duly recorded her monthly cycles every month since.

The man looked at it for along time and said, "Do you understand the things that can make a woman's ways stop?"

"You mean like when she comes into the family way?"

"Yes. Do you know how that happens?"

"Sort of."

"Do you know the kinds of things men and women do to make babies."

"Yes, sir."

"How do you know about that?"

She blushed, but something in her wanted to tell him the truth, so she said, "Ma told me some of it. She told me about the kinds of ways men will act when they are itching to do it."

"Have you ever done that?"

Charlotte shook her head, "No, sir. My ma was very stern about that. She kept me in the house. Once my oldest brother must of looked at me funny. I didn't see it, but Pa did. He beat Raymond so bad he couldn't get outta bed for several days. After that the boys all left me alone, and Raymond left altogether."

"Tell me about your family."

Charlotte knew that if she gave the wrong answer to that question she would end up back on the farm, turned ass up in the barn with Pa laying into her with a belt. She looked at the woman who brought her there for a long time, hoping the lady would understand why she lied.

"Well, you see, sir, we h'ain't got no family any more. The older boys left and we never heard from them since. A while back Ma left. That put Papa in a funk, but he still went to work. I don't know what he did exactly, but he'd go away for a while and then he'd come back after a few weeks. A while back, he left for work and he didn't come home. Whatever his job was I think it was dangerous 'cause he used to come home all cut up and bruised and stuff. When he didn't come home at all, I figured he was hurt bad or maybe killt. Me and Charlie kept Jerry at home until we run out of money and food. Then we took off. We ended up in this lady's garage and then Charlie took off, and me and Jerry have no place else to go, so this lady told me she thought we should come to this orf'nage."

She did not look at Jerry, because she had already threatened to thrash him if he opened his yap, and she knew he would mind. She did not look at the lady, either. She hoped the lady would keep her mouth shut, too. She should if she wanted to get rid of Charlotte and Jerry, but Charlotte held her breath for a long minute fearing the woman would contradict her. The lady did not say a word. The man made some notes. Then he excused himself.

Charlotte whispered softly to the lady, "I'm sorry I tolt a story. I thought it would go down better than the truth with that man, and I don't dare ever go home. You understand?"

The lady nodded and said, "Yes. I think I do. I won't say anything."

The man came back a few minutes later and said to the lady, "There are no birth records for any children named Jefferson in Gallia County." He looked at Charlotte. "How many children are there in your family?"

"A total of five."

"What are their names and ages?"

"I don't know their ages. The oldest was Raymond, then Lucas. They left home a while ago. Charlie was next. He was a year or so older than me. After me is Jerry here."

Charlotte held her breath, but the man seemed to buy her story.

They moved into the orphanage that day. Another lady in strange clothes took the children upstairs and directed Charlotte to the girls dormitory. Then she took Jerry to the boys dorm. Both children protested being separated, but the woman was insisted that was the rule.

That first evening, Charlotte went to the dining room with the rest of the girls. She asked if she could sit with her brother. The lady, who asked Charlotte to call her "Sister", told her they would not be allowed to sit together at meals, but they could talk to each other during their free times during the day. Charlotte did not like that answer. She had hoped she and Jerry could stay together. Still, the place was clean and someone had told her they had a school there, so Jerry would be able to learn to read and write. She decided not to argue, at least as long as Jerry seemed okay with the situation.

When she finished eating dinner, instead of simply piling her dirty plate on the cart by the kitchen door, like the rest of the girls did, she carried it into the kitchen and said to the lady in charge, "Thank you, ma'am. That was a very good meal. Do you want me to wash the dishes or dry 'em?"

The cook looked at her oddly. The Proctor had followed Charlotte into the kitchen. She said, "Charlotte, the residents do chores around the rest of the building, but as a general rule they do not help in the kitchen."

Charlotte looked as though she might cry, "Oh, but, ma'am, I want to help in the kitchen! I'll wash all the dishes and dry 'em too if you want, but I need to help with the cooking."

"Why?"

"Cooking is my most favorite thing. It is ..." she blinked her eyes and cleared her throat, "Well, I just like to cook, especially bread and pie crust and biscuits. I make great pancakes. If you ever have any eggs I can make a pretty good cake, too."

The Proctor said, "I'll talk to Mother about having you assigned to help in the kitchen. Tonight you must be tired...."

The cook interrupted, "If it will make you feel at home here more quickly, dear, I'd love some help with the dishes."

The next morning, Charlotte walked into the kitchen at 5:00 a. m. The cook had just put on a pot of coffee and was pulling things out of the refrigerator to prepare for breakfast. Charlotte eyed the ingredients lined up on the counter. She understood immediately that pancakes were on the menu for breakfast. She took down a large mixing bowl for the dry ingredients, and a smaller one for the wet ingredients. She found a couple of measuring cups and a large pitcher. She asked, "How many people'r we cookin' for?"

The cook started, and bumped her head on a refrigerator shelf. She asked, "What are you doing here, Charlotte?"

"Helping you fix breakfast, ma'am. I figger you're plannin' on pancakes. That's a lotta work to make pancakes for so many kids. Least I can do is help. How many we need to make?"

The cook said, "There are twenty children ranging in age from four to seventeen. We figure three large pancakes each. The little ones don't eat that much, but the bigger boys eat more. We also cook for fifteen sisters in the convent. Five of us work here. The others are teachers and nurses who work elsewhere. We make two pancakes each for them." She paused.

Charlotte clearly did some math in her head. "Whoa! That's 90 pancakes. Big ones, you say. I usually make silver dollar pancakes, each one is a coupla tablespoons of batter. How much batter you use for a big pancake?"

The cook said, "A little over a quarter cup of batter per pancake."

Charlotte figured some more, and whistled. "That's gonna take at least five maybe six of my regular recipe batches. I don't like to double pancake recipes because it never works right. You want me to use my recipe and just make a bunch of batches or you got a big crowd-sized recipe."

"Actually, we have a recipe that makes approximately 100 pancakes. Usually I make a few extra. Some of the sisters who work out take their lunch and a few of them like to take pancake sandwiches. The problem is, my big recipe makes very tough, rubbery pancakes. If you don't mind, lets use yours. You mix batter in batches and I'll flip the pancakes."

Charlotte grinned and said, "Let's do it!"

The cook made two pancakes to test the recipe. She handed one to Charlotte and tasted the other. Charlotte slathered hers with butter and wolfed it down before turning back to her mixing bowls. The cook told Charlotte that it was the best pancake she had ever tasted. They agreed that it smelled even better than it tasted, if that was possible. They fed the sisters first. There were raves from the convent dining room. The mother superior, who was also the orphanage administrator, came into the kitchen and asked, "Sister, I don't know where you got that new recipe, but please retire the old one!"

Charlotte was mixing her third batch of batter for the children. She had them lined up in pitchers on the counter, resting. The older nun saw her and asked, "What are you doing here, dear. You should only be getting up about now."

"I always get up real early, ma'am. I come down and helped this lady in the kitchen. She's got a lotta people to cook for and I figgered she could use a hand. She let me use my recipe 'cause she said hers wasn't very good. I'm glad youse liked 'em."

The cook was calculating, she turned around and said, "Charlotte, your recipe makes more pancakes than we thought. I think between the batter we have left from the sisters' breakfast and those three you have made, that should be enough. I don't like to have too much left over. It's a waste."

"Okay. I'll start cleaning up the pans. What time do the kids come in to eat?"

"Eight o'clock."

"They get to sleep till eight?"

The administrator said, "We wake them at 7:30."

Charlotte laughed and said, "Jerry's gonna love this place. 'Tween bein' fed hot meals three times a day and sleepin' so late every morning, he'll think he's in Heaven."

"What time did you get up when you lived at home, Charlotte?"

"I usually got up 'tween 4:30 and 5:00. I think I come into the kitchen today 'bout 5:00."

"What time did you usually go to bed?"

"Well, that depended on the time of the year and what was going on. After dinner we'd clean up the kitchen, and then sometimes there might be ironing or mending. If it was summer, there'd be light and we could sit on the porch and do mendin'. Ma's eyes wasn't so good, and she needed a lot of light for sewing. In the summer she could help. In the winter when it was dark, Ma couldn't sew by the dim lights inside. I had to do most of the mendin' myself in the winter, and with five boys and Pa, there was always somethin' gettin' tore. I guess I was usually in bed by 'leven or so."

The cook asked, "What did you do between breakfast and dinner?"

"I helped make lunch and clean up from that. Then I helped make dinner. In between, we did laundry, cleant the house, an' worked in the garden." She laughed and put up her hands, "We kept busy. That's for sure."

The administrator looked puzzled, "Didn't you go to school?"

"No, ma'am. Pa didn't hold much with school. I heard he sent my oldest brother to school a few times, but Pa didn't like what they was teachin' there, so after that Pa didn't send none of us to school."

"Can you read?"

"No, ma'am. I can do sums. I can figger recipes. I can figger how much stuff costs in the store so I know if I have enough money to buy it. I can also tell time. We had a watch and when I worked in the field, Ma would give me the watch so I would know when I had to come home to start supper. But I never had to learn to read 'cause we didn't have any stuff writ down in our house. I think Pa could read, but I don't know about Ma."

The administrator sighed, "Well, it's highly unusual, but you seem to enjoy working in the kitchen and Sister Helen certainly needs the help. She had an assistant who moved on to take a position as a full-time cook in a hospital. If you want to help in the kitchen, I'll approve it. We have school here, but I have to tell you, you and Jerry will both be in the class with the smallest children."

Charlotte thought about that and said, "I want Jerry to learn to read, even if it means he has to be in a class with the tots. If he don't mind the teacher, you let me know and I'll have a sit-down with him. He minds me pretty good. I'd love to learn to read, but I don't see me sittin' in a classroom with little kids. Mebbe I can sit with Jerry in free time and he can show me what he's learnin'. Mebbe I can pick up some words that way."

The administrator nodded. The cook grinned and said, "Enough talking, we have hungry kids arriving in a few minutes and they're gonna love these pancakes!"

After breakfast, Jerry came into the kitchen and hugged Charlotte. "Everybody loved the breakfast, Sissy. I tole 'em I knowed you was the one that made them pancakes. They are glad you're here."

Charlotte hugged him back and said, "Thank you. Did you sleep good?"

"Oh, yeah I got a nice bed with clean sheets and a pillow."

"You had a pillow before."

"Nah. There was a pillow on the bed, but usually Charlie took it at night 'cause his pillow was too thin. Anyway, I got one now and it's nice."

Charlotte kissed him on the top of the head and said, "You go on now, and you behave, or I'll thrash you." As he started to walk away she grabbed him by the back of the collar, "Two things: One, these people was nice enough to take us in when we had no place else to go, so don't screw it up by stealin' anything. Two, they have a school here. You will be in the class with the little kids that can't read yet. You will cooperate with the teachers and not fuss about bein' stuck in with little 'uns. You understan'?"

He looked at her as though he might protest but saw the look in her eyes and said, "I understan', Sissy. I'll behave. I won't steal nothin' and I'll do what the teachers say. I don't get why I need to learn to read, though."

"Don't matter why. You just do. Now go catch up with the other boys."

Later that day, Charlotte was up to her elbows in dishwater scrubbing a soup pot after lunch. Several sisters came in and chatted briefly with the cook and then left. Charlotte said, "Geez, you got more sisters than I got brothers. How is it that you all live here together like this? I'd think some of you woulda moved away and got married or somethin'."

"We are not actual sisters. We're nuns."

"What's that?"

"We live together and make promises never to get married or have children, so we can spend our lives doing the Lord's work."

"Who's Lord?"

The cook stopped in her tracks. "You mean you have never heard of our Lord Jesus?"

Charlotte thought for a minute, "Well Pa used to mention someone name of Jesus Christ, but only when he was mad. I never met the man. 'Course that ain't surprisin'. Pa never brought his friends around."

The cook was clearly distressed, "Have you ever been to church?"

Charlotte shook her head, "I don't know what that is, so I'm pretty sure I never been there. Until I come here, I never been anywhere but the store."

"Were you and Jerry baptized?"

"Again. I don't know what that is, so I doubt it."

"Finish the dishes, dear. I'll be back in a little while."

The sisters arranged for Charlotte and Jerry to spend some time in the evenings with the sister who prepared the small children for their First Holy Communion. She taught them the basics of the Catholic faith, using the Baltimore Catechism. After a very few weeks, the children were baptized in the chapel. Jerry joined the regular First Communion class. Charlotte continued to work with the sister in the evenings preparing for her First Communion. She paid little attention to the ridiculous things the woman was telling her about this Jesus person and all the crazy things that happened to him. She paid extremely close attention to the correlation between the words the woman spoke and the markings on the page. Thus, she began to teach herself to read.

Charlotte was ignorant, but she was extremely intelligent. She initially started learning to read from the Baltimore Catechism. Soon she started paying attention to the recipes in the cookbooks in the kitchen. She looked at the words on the page and watched the ingredients the cook gathered. In only a few months, she could read most of the recipes she already knew and she started branching out reading other recipes that were unfamiliar to her. It was an astonishingly liberating experience for her.

Charlotte loved her life in the orphanage. Her days were spent in the kitchen from about 5:00 a. m. until mid-afternoon. At that point, she had a break, which she generally spent in the garden, weeding and tending the herbs and vegetables. She cooperated with the catechism lessons not because she had any interest whatsoever in what she considered to be the religious mumbo-jumbo the sister tried to explain to her, but because she was learning to read. She asked the sister one day if she could borrow a book from the library. The sister said, "But you can't read."

"Yes, I can. You been teaching me."

"When?"

"When you read those questions and answers outta that book, you run your finger under the words. I'm not stupid. I figured it out that the words you were sayin' matched the markings on the page. I just started payin' attention and I pretty much got it now. I think I'm ready to try reading somethin' you haven't already read to me. It should prob'ly should be something easy at first."

The next morning one of the sisters Charlotte knew to be a school teacher brought her three books. One was a story book called _Charlotte's Web_. The nun said it was a very famous story and she thought Charlotte might like it because one of the main characters was named Charlotte. One book was an elementary level social studies book that had one unit for each of the continents on the earth, including lots of maps and photos of people from many different cultures. The sister told her she thought Charlotte might enjoy getting a glimpse of the world beyond the orphanage. The third book was a book containing Bible stories from the New Testament.

That evening after her catechism lessons, Charlotte thumbed through the books. It only took her a few minutes to reject the Bible story book. She thought the Jesus stories were just too silly. It baffled her that anybody could believe that nonsense. She glanced through the novel and rejected it as well. Talking spiders and pigs! It made sense that Pa never wanted his kids to go to school if that's the kind of stupid stuff they teach kids there.

She opened the text book and her life was forever transformed. When the night proctor came through to check the house before she went to bed at midnight, both she and Charlotte were shocked to find Charlotte still in the library reading. She shooed Charlotte to bed and left a note for the cook that Charlotte might be late to rise because she had stayed up so late reading.

Charlotte beat the cook to the kitchen in the morning and threw away the note.

Over the course of the next week or so, Charlotte all but memorized the social studies book. She returned the books to the sister who had lent them to her, and said, "I'd like some more of these kind of books about people and places. I like the maps and the pittures. You got any books about Ohio and the United States? I don't know hardly nothing about the place where I live, and that makes me feel really stupid."

Sister asked her how she liked the other books. Charlotte made a face and shook here head, "I ain't interested in books about talking pigs or people walking on water and stuff. Maybe someday I'll have time for made-up stories, but right now I think I need to catch up on all the stuff I don't know about the real world."

The nun didn't argue with her. She gave Charlotte some elementary text books on American history, geography and some contemporary social studies books. Charlotte devoured them with the same intensity she had read her first textbook.

Like all the children, Charlotte went to chapel every day and Mass once a week. After she made her First Communion, she took Communion with the other kids, but the whole business about the Church was an impenetrable mystery to her. She found it so insignificant to her life, however, that she simply went through the motions of the prayers and the songs, without thinking about it or making any effort to understand it. She simply let the sound of the music and the smell of the incense wash over her like a warm shower. She enjoyed chapel even if it the stories they told seemed kind of silly. She liked the music and the way the church smelled of the blend of furniture polish, candles and flowers.

For Charlotte, life in the orphanage was an endless round of joy and wonder. She took almost indecent pleasure in her life in the kitchen. She and the cook, Sister Helen, became partners. Their daily adventure was to pack as much nutrition and taste into the meals they served, while keeping within a very limited budget. The cook explained to her about vitamins and nutrition. She added a request for some books about science the next time she met with her tutor.

In the evenings, after she finished cleaning up the kitchen, she went to the library and dug out her text books. She usually had about two and a half hours to read and study before the night proctor made her go to bed. She tried to divide the time equally between social studies and science, both of which she found fascinating. She didn't study math. She could add, multiply and divide in her head faster and more accurately than the cook, who used a calculator. When she ran across formulas in her science books that she couldn't figure out, she made a note to ask the tutor.

Jerry cooperated with the rules and refrained from stealing or getting into trouble if for no other reason than because Charlotte threatened him with serious bodily harm if he misbehaved and got them kicked out. He did not like the orphanage nearly as much as she did. He thought it was boring and dull, but he feared his sister's retribution if he screwed it up for them because he understood how much she loved her new life.

A few months after they arrived, Mother Superior called Charlotte to her office where she informed Charlotte that Jerry was to be adopted. After the administrator explained what that meant, Charlotte objected, loudly and emphatically. Later she realized she probably used a few bad words in the process. For the only time in her life at the orphanage, she rebelled.

Mother explained that the adoption had already been approved and Jerry would be leaving with his new parents that afternoon. She left it up to Charlotte whether or not she wanted to say good-bye or just let him go. Charlotte told her she did very much intend to tell her brother good-bye. She would not just let him go, thinking she did not care about him.

Charlotte met with Jerry in the garden. She asked him if he had met the people who were adopting him and whether or not he liked them. He said he liked them a lot. They had taken him to their house for a visit. He said it was a big house and he'd have his own room. The man was going to teach him to play baseball and to swim. He added, with a rapturous look on his face, "They got a swimming pool in the back yard!"

Jerry suggested that Charlotte might be able to visit him from time to time. Charlotte had her doubts about that, but she didn't express them. She looked at Jerry seriously and said in a whisper, "Listen, if you go with these people, there's a chance you might not ever be able to come back and see me. This adoption business means you won't be parta my family no more. You'll be their kid. You'll have a different Ma and Pa and no brothers or sisters, not even me. If that's what you want, you go. If you got any doubts about it, this is our one chance to run away. You gotta make up your mind, right now."

Jerry thought about it for a few minutes and said, with tears in his eyes, "Sissy, you know I love you and I don't wanna leave you, but we got no choice. Where we gonna run to? You got a nice cushy job here. You can stay here and be the cook. I don't like living in the dorm with all those boys. I want a Ma and Pa and a regular house. I feel like gotta do this." He saw Charlotte start to cry, "Don't be mad at me, please. And don't be sad."

Charlotte snapped, "I'm not mad at you, but I can't help being sad. You're the only family I got left. You're gonna go get a new family that's prob'ly a hell of a lot better than the one you come from. I can't fault you for that. I will miss you, though. And I'm sad 'cause now I got nobody."

"You got the Lord Jesus."

Charlotte laughed, "You believin' all that stuff they tole you about Jesus and his Virgin Mother an' all that stuff?"

"Sure. Don't you?"

Charlotte decided not to burst his bubble, "Yeah, sure. I'll take comfort in the love of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I'll be fine."

She hugged him and kissed him and sent him off to wait for his new parents. After she composed herself, she realized that everyone had been very careful not to mention Jerry's new family's name or to tell her where they lived. She wiped the tears from her face and walked back to the Mother Superior's office with the same kind of measured strides the nuns used. She stood respectfully in front of the big desk and said, "I'm sorry I got mad before. It'll never happen again, I promise. But, I got one question."

The Superior looked up calmly and said, "What is that?"

"The lady that brung us here. You know she never even tole me her name. Anyway that lady tole me when we was on the way here that me and Jerry would not be split up. Was that a lie or did she just not know how you do things around here?"

Mother's lips pursed and her nostrils drew in. Later Charlotte would learn that was the only sign the woman ever gave when she was angry. She said softly, "We had every reason to believe that neither of you would be candidates for adoption. I believe that she told you that based on her honest belief it was true. It was not a lie. She was mistaken, as were we all."

Charlotte pursed her own lips, which nobody would ever know was the only sign she ever showed when she had made some kind of serious decision. She nodded, "I understand. Well, I guess we'll just leave it at that, but I want you to know that I think it's wrong to split up a family. Your Lord Jesus might think of everyone as his kin, but I don't. Still, I do appreciate the fact that you took us in and took care of us. As hard as it is to take, I know that Jerry will have a better life with his new Ma and a Pa than I could ever give him. So, we'll just put this in the past. Thank you for your time, and, again, I apologize for losin' my temper. It won't happen again."

Charlotte turned on her heel and walked out of the woman's office. As she walked down the hall, she locked a hard knot of resentment into the deep recesses of her heart, where it would remain forever.

She went back into the kitchen and started peeling potatoes for dinner. She never mentioned that day again for decades.

One day the following spring, Sister Helen told Charlotte that Mother Superior wanted to see her. At that point, Charlotte's resentment toward the mother superior had hardened into something that hovered between cold disdain and bitter contempt on a personal level, but she acknowledged the woman was a good manager for the orphanage and the convent. Even at her level of ignorance, Charlotte understood the difference between someone who demands respect because of the position the person held and a person with true leadership skills. She recognized that the Mother Anne was a woman with true authority, and she respected that.

Charlotte did not hurry to finish drying the dishes. She did not feel the need to hurry to respond to the Superior's summons. She believed her own work was important and should not be interrupted lightly. After she finished the last of the dishes, she put down the towel, took off her apron and said to Sister Helen, "I'll be back in a little bit." She noticed the cook had tears in her eyes.

Charlotte knocked on the office door and then entered in response to the nun's soft invitation. She stood respectfully by the guest chair until Mother Anne invited her to sit. She sat, hoping her silence appeared to be the humble respectful silence the teachers encouraged and not a cover for the insolent irritation she actually felt at being interrupted from her work in the kitchen.

The nun looked at her for a long time. Charlotte knew she was probing Charlotte for signs of an "attitude". Charlotte tried not to let it show that she actually had a very bad attitude, indeed.

The nun asked, "When is your birthday, dear?"

"I don't know."

"When you came here we calculated you were maybe sixteen or seventeen."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You have been here about a year and a half. Is that correct?"

Charlotte tried, perhaps not entirely successfully to hide her irritation. She despised the sisters' tendency to ask questions Charlotte knew damned well they already knew the answers to. She preferred a much more direct way of speaking. She said, "Yes, ma'am. That's about right."

The nun went on, "Are you aware that once you are eighteen you have reached the age of majority in the eyes of the law? That means you can't stay here any longer."

Charlotte had not been aware of that. She felt her entire universe begin to implode. Panic began to well up in her gut and for a second she thought she might pass out or throw up. She kept her hands folded primly in her lap and her feet flat on the floor with her ankles crossed as she had been taught. To avoid doing something humiliating, she clenched her stomach muscles, took a deep breath and said placidly, "No, ma'am, I didn't know that."

"Once you are of age, the state will no longer pay us a stipend for your care and you will no longer be legally allowed to stay with the children."

Charlotte thought about that for a minute, and said, "So you are telling me that for the last two years, I been working in your kitchen from 5:00 a. m. until early evening for no money and somebody else has been paying you to keep me? I thought what I was doin' was earnin' my keep. Now you're tellin' me you have been collectin' money for my room and board the whole time!? It seems to me that if you kick me out, we'll need to talk about a little back pay."

Sister's mouth went white and her nostrils narrowed. Charlotte ignored those signs that ordinarily terrorized the nuns and orphans alike, and continued, "But, it seems to me there's another way that we could do this, without you getting' wrong with the law and without me bein' homeless. You got lots of empty rooms in the convent. You been losin' sisters right and left, for some reason. At the same time, you got more kids than ever in the hall. When I first come here, you had twenty kids and fifteen sisters, five of which worked in the house. Now we got thirty kids and only three sisters working in the house. You're down to 'leven in the convent. The only food I eat is what I taste when I'm cookin'. You could let me have one of the empty rooms in the convent. I'll work for my keep, same as I have been. Seems like a heck of a deal for you, and it would help me out a lot, too."

"How would it help you?"

"You see, I ain't ever been alone. First, I was with Ma and Pa and a whole tribe of brothers. Then I spent a few days on the lam, but even then I had Charlie an' Jerry with me. After that we run into that lady. I sure wisht I knew her name so I could send her a thank you note now that I can write. Anyway, then I come here and I haven't been alone for one minute the whole time.

"I ain't scared 'bout bein' responsible for myself or nothin'. There's lotsa bakeries and restaurants in Columbus, and I'm sure I could get a job workin' in one of them. Problem I see is livin' all by myself. I don't know nobody in Columbus but the sisters in the convent and the kids here in the orphanage. I think I'd be awful lonesome if I was to go out on my own.

"Thing is, I just figger it ain't really necessary to go down that road. Sister Helen ain't getting' no younger and she already can't stand up for as many hours a day as she used ta could. She also has somethin' goin' on with her hands – rheumatism, if you ask me – and she can't lift the big skillets and pots no more. I have to help her more and more all the time. Seems to me you'll need ta hire somebody to work in the kitchen 'fore long anyway. I'll work for nothin' but my room and board. I'll give up my bed in the dorm. You can fill it with another kid the state pays you money for. I'll sleep in a room in the convent that's already empty, and work for free. Do the math."

The sister looked irritated, "You can't live in the convent unless you're a sister."

Charlotte asked, "What do I have ta do to become a sister?"

"You think you have a calling to be a sister?"

"I don't know nothin' 'bout a calling, whatever that is. I do know that I go to church same time and same place as all the nuns. I say the same prayers and sing the same songs. Maybe they pray more in the convent, but I figger I could learn those prayers, too, -- same way as I learned the ones I already know. I never been with a boy. I guess I don't know what I'm missin' so that part shouldn't be a problem. I got a whole houseful o' kids to take care of so I shouldn't feel like I'm missin' out on bein' a ma. There is nothin' in this whole world I love to do more than cook, and it's fun to cook for the sisters and the kids, 'cause they all 'ppreciate it so much.

"I ain't gonna beg you. You gotta do whatever your rules say. If you're gonna kick me out, then at least give me enough notice so I can try to find a job and some place to live first. But, before you do that, please think about my idea. Seems like it'd help us both outta a jam."

Charlotte stood up, ending the meeting and added, "When do you want to talk about this again? I guess it oughta be soon. You know and I know I'm prob'ly already eighteen."

The nun was very annoyed, but a tiny hint of a smile hovered at the edge of her lips. Charlotte knew that the nun understood perfectly well Charlotte had just offered her a heck of a deal. The downside for the mother superior was having a postulant who annoyed her as much as Charlotte did. Charlotte was aware that Mother Anne knew she had never bent her will to the life in the orphanage or to the Church. Charlotte was pretty sure Mother thought she would be a pain in the ass as a sister and Charlotte was almost certain Mother was totally right about that.

On the other hand, the only time she had ever shown her temper or rebellious side was the day Jerry went away. The rest of the time she was unfailingly cheerful, compliant and totally obedient... except to the bed-time rule, which she regularly violated because she got so caught up in her books at night. There were a whole bunch of full-fledged believing Christian nuns who weren't nearly as cooperative as Charlotte.

Mother said, "We'll talk again at the end of the week. Thank you for your understanding and for your suggestions."

The following day Charlotte heard the nuns had scheduled a Chapter meeting for the next evening. There was no Chapter meeting due due for for several weeks. Charlotte guessed the meeting was probably for the purpose of discussing whether or not they would invite her to join the convent. Their rules required all the women to agree before they could bring in a new person. Sister Helen, who was usually the worst gossip in the whole place, was uncharacteristically quiet. That made Charlotte nervous, but she didn't show it.

The next morning she and Sister Helen made sourdough pancakes and home made breakfast sausage, which every one of the sisters loved. For lunch, they made white chicken chili soup and corn bread, another favorite. Dinner was chicken and dumplings. The kids were not crazy about that because it had too many vegetables and most children think dumplings are gross; however, chicken and dumplings was the sisters' hands-down favorite dinner. All three of those meals were made from Charlotte's own recipes. Charlotte was campaigning for a place in the convent, and Sister Helen was helping. Neither of them mentioned it. That didn't make the campaigning any less intense.

After dinner, Sister Helen left early to attend the Chapter meeting, leaving Charlotte to clean up the kitchen by herself. After she finished, she went to the library and read for a while. Her history lesson was about colonizing the New World. Her science lesson was about the men who were trying to go to the moon. She read those stories and understood that if the Pilgrims could come across a big ocean in a little boat and people could get shot up in the air in tiny rocket ships, she could dern sure get a job and live alone for a while until she could find some friends to room with. She went to bed before the night proctor came around, resigned to be okay with the Chapter's decision, whichever way it went.

The next morning, she studied Sister Helen's face for clues as to the outcome of the vote. Sister Helen tried really hard to hide her delight, but she might as well have been wearing a sandwich sign as far as Charlotte was concerned. Charlotte knew before she had the breakfast coffee poured into carafes for the sisters that she was in. She put the carafes in the dumbwaiter and lowered it to the convent dining room, turning to crack the eggs for breakfast. She thought her delight would show to everyone. She was wrong. Her face was almost totally inscrutable to all of the sisters, who thought it was strange she didn't appear happier about the decision, which everyone knew was common knowledge before it was ever officially announced.

Mother Superior sent a message that she wanted to see Charlotte immediately after the breakfast mess was cleared away. Charlotte and Sister Helen made quick work of the dishes and she went to Mother's office, where she waited at the door until she was invited to enter. Mother asked her again if she felt she had a calling to the life of a nun. She said she felt she had a calling to serve as a cook and she added that if the Lord had led her to that orphanage, maybe that was where she was supposed to serve. She did not mention that she, personally, didn't think she'd been brought to this place by anything more than the fortunate chance that the lady who rescued her from that garage knew about this particular orphanage. She got a kick out of tossing off references to the Lord's work in making situations turn out a certain way. It always got a big reaction out of the nuns, so she used it when she needed to earn points, or wanted something.

Mother nodded and said, "Well it appears that virtually all of the sisters agree with you. I have to admit, I have my doubts about your suitability to life in the convent, but I've been wrong before and, honestly, I hope I'm wrong now. The rest of the sisters are so crazy about your cooking and your generally sunny disposition, they voted unanimously to invite you to become a postulant, immediately if necessary.

"As you mentioned the other day, I am pretty sure you are over eighteen and the social worker who oversees our operations is adamant that we need to move you because she has younger girls who need a place, and there aren't a lot of orphanages left these days."

"You mean to tell me that there are little kids who need to come here but can't because I'm takin' up a bed?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to move today?"

"Do you understand the step you're taking?"

"The postulant process is a minimum of two years, sometimes more, right?"

"Yes. That's correct."

Charlotte stood up and said, "Then you and I have two or more years to figger out what to do with me. If there's a kid sleeping on the streets or in a homeless shelter who needs to come here, that kid don't have two years. I'll go move my clothes. What room do you want me to take?"

"You don't need to move your clothes. You will receive a postulant's habit. Your new clothes are hanging in the closet in the room at the end of the hall closest to the kitchen. The sisters thought that would be convenient for you." She smiled, "And for them as well, you see the floor boards in the hall where the sleeping rooms are squeak terribly. The sisters wanted to put you at the end so your 5:00 a. m. trip to the kitchen doesn't disturb them."

Charlotte laughed for the first time in what felt like days. In fact she felt positively giddy. She asked, "Where's Sister Helen's room?"

"Across the hall from yours. We moved her years ago."

Charlotte took a step nearer to the desk and furiously beat back tears with her lashes. She managed to croak, "Mother, I know that you don't approve of me much. It would of been a lot easier for you if you sent me away, I think. I want you to know that I appreciate you letting me stay. I promise I won't give you no trouble. Ever."

The nun reached across the desk, put her hand on Charlotte's arm and said, "You are very welcome among us, Charlotte. You have been a blessing to this orphanages since the day you arrived. I have no reason to believe you will bless us any less by moving to the convent. We will all face many challenges in the years ahead. I hope we will weather them well, and together.

"Now, go upstairs to the dorm. The girls know that you are leaving, but they don't know where you are going. They will be thrilled to know that you will only be moving into the convent. After that, go to the convent and see Sister Lucille. She will be your adviser and mentor during your postulancy." The nun walked around the desk and gave Charlotte a brief, perfunctory hug. It was the first time anyone had hugged Charlotte since Jerry left. It was almost to much for her to bear.

She went upstairs to the dorm where she had slept for nearly two years in a metal bed, the second from the end on the right side, farthest from the door. Sister Helen had made cookies and punch and, for the only time in anyone's memory, the girls were allowed to have food in the dormitory. Charlotte hugged all the girls and then someone suggested having their treats. Charlotte shook her had and said she thought the boys should be invited. They knocked on the boys dormitory door. At that time of the day, the children were supposed to be making their beds and cleaning the dormitories. The boys were sitting on their beds morosely staring at the floor. They knew there was a party going across the hall on and they were crushed that they weren't invited. Charlotte stuck her head in the door and said, "We are having cookies and punch to celebrate my move up to the convent. Anybody interested in oatmeal cookies?"

The party spilled out into the hall, and lasted for more than a half an hour while the kids violated every rule of the orphanage: food upstairs; fraternizing between boys and girls; talking all at once; neglecting chores, and a few others besides. The nuns downstairs had previously agreed to let the kids have an hour. After 45 minutes, Charlotte broke up the party, set a cleaning detail to work in each bedroom and the bathrooms, and proceeded to clean up the hall herself. In less than an hour the party was over and the mess was completely cleaned up, the leftovers returned to the kitchen and the carpet sweeper in its closet. The orphanage returned to normal.

Charlotte went down the stairs with a paper sack containing her comb and hair brush, a packet of bobby-pins and rubber bands for her hair, a small sewing kit, and a box of sanitary pads. That, and the clothes on her back, were all she possessed. She knew that in a few minutes they were going to take away her clothes.

There was no one around when she passed through the public rooms of the orphanage. She went into the kitchen, intending to go to the convent by way of the connecting walkway between the orphanage and the convent sleeping quarters. Sister Helen stopped her, "Go in by the front door."

Charlotte thought that was odd, but she obeyed. She walked back through the dining room, living room and parlor and out the front door of the orphanage. She walked down the sidewalk and approached the convent from the front. She had never entered by that route. Typically she only went to the chapel or, if one of the sisters was sick, she sometimes delivered meals to the infirmary.

She rang the bell and Sister Lucille answered immediately, making it clear they were waiting for her. All the sisters were waiting in the parlor. Each of them greeted her with a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek. By the time she reached the Mother Superior on the other side of the room, she was so overwhelmed by the affection, it was all she could do not to dissolve into hysterical sobbing. Instead she politely thanked Mother Superior for inviting her to explore the possibility of joining them. Mother said she was most welcome.

She directed Charlotte to follow Sister Lucille, and she told Charlotte she needn't worry about making lunch. Mother Anne laughed, "The children all spoiled their lunch with cookies and juice anyway. We'll feed them cold cut sandwiches and fruit. Nobody will get rickets from skipping one hot meal. You can be back in the kitchen for dinner and fill them full of nutritious food, with lots of vegetables."

Charlotte laughed out loud. That surprised everyone. She rarely laughed. It would have gotten her a whipping at home from Ma and she just hadn't found much to laugh at in the orphanage.

She followed Sister Lucille into her room. Sister showed her the habit, and spent some time demonstrating how the straps and snaps worked. There were no zippers or buttons. She left Charlotte alone while she changed. The dress was long and heavy, but it was not new. It had been washed and worn so many times it was very soft. It smelled of Ivory Snow and sunshine. Charlotte managed to get the straps adjusted and the snaps closed by herself, after only a few tries. Sister knocked softly and brought in the wimple.

"The wimple for postulants is a lot smaller than the one you'll wear as a novice and a vowed sister. This will allow you to get used to the idea of having something on your head all the time without going all the way to the full boat." She smiled. She held Charlotte's braid up. For a second Charlotte thought she was going to cut her hair. Sister murmured, "We don't have to cut your hair until you become a novice. You will need to keep it twisted up and under your veil." She secured the braid on top of Charlotte's head with large bobby-pins and then put the wimple on top of it.

It felt weird. Charlotte was pretty sure it would have felt better if they had just cut her hair. But it didn't hurt or scratch or pinch like she expected, so she didn't complain. She ultimately cut her own hair a few weeks later and nobody was the wiser until she got ready to take her final vows years later.

Sister Lucile hung a rosary from Charlotte's waistband and handed her a new St. Joseph's Missal. "This is a gift from the Sisters. It is yours to keep whether or not you complete the process of becoming a vowed sister and joining us permanently."

Charlotte blinked back tears. It was the first gift anyone had ever given her. It was also the only thing she actually owned that she could keep even if she left the convent. She touched the Missal as though it had some kind of magical properties. Sister took it from her hand and laid it on the bed. "Believe me, you'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with that book! Right now, how would you like a tour of the entire convent. There are lots of places you have not seen."

Charlotte nodded, and took a step toward the door. Sister put her hand on Charlotte's arm and said, "There is one thing we have to do before we go back outside."

"What?"

"We have to discuss your new name?"

"My new name? What's wrong with the name I've got?"

"Nothing. It's just that when we join the convent we take new names to show that we have put our old lives behind us and that we are now part of a new family of sisters living as brides of our Lord Jesus."

Charlotte made a face, "Kind of like Jerry got a new name when he went to live with his new family."

"Yes. It's kind of like that."

Charlotte said, "Makes sense. But I guess I didn't figger on changing my first name. You mean your name ain't really Lucille."

"It is really Lucille now. But it wasn't always."

"Are you allowed to tell me what it used to be?"

Sister Lucille said, "My name was Agatha. Agatha Benedict."

Charlotte made a face and said, "If you don't mind my saying so, I think you done pretty good with the name change."

Lucille giggled and said, "I have no complaints."

"So, do I get to pick my name?"

"Not exactly. I have several to offer you. If you completely object to one, we can try another. We know that sometimes experiences in the past may make some names too difficult."

"Okay. What you got?"

"Well, we discussed it in Chapter – do you know what that is?"

Charlotte nodded. Sister Lucille went on, "There were a lot of strong opinions but one name kept coming up over and over. We think it suits you. Or at least it is descriptive of you. We would like to offer you the name of Sister Mercy."

"What does that mean, besides what Sister Helen says when she spills something?"

"The dictionary defines grace as: a blessing that is an act of divine favor or compassion. In the two years you have been among us, we have seen many examples of how you have blessed our community."

"What are my other choices?"

"I would prefer not to tell you unless Mercy is unacceptable to you."

Charlotte thought about it for a minute and said it out loud, "Mercy. It means a blessing. I guess it's a really good name for me. It's a mercy I got away from my family. It's a mercy that lady who found us in her garage didn't just call the law and have us throwed in jail fer trespassin'. It's a mercy she brought me here. And it's a mercy that you all agreed to let me stay instead of throwing me out on the streets. It seems like a good name. I reckon I'll keep it."

Sister Lucille turned her head for a minute and blew her nose. She cleared her throat and said, "Okay, then, Sister Mercy, let's go take that tour of the convent before you have to go back to the kitchen."

## Sister Mercy

Mercy learned that the convent was very much like the orphanage, except the nuns each had their own room. The rooms were tiny and sparsely furnished, with only a metal bed, a dresser, a desk and a prie-dieu. A crucifix hung in a prominent place on the wall above the prie-dieu. Mercy noticed that her window overlooked the garden, which was her favorite refuge outside of the kitchen. She had her own room when she was little, but it was a tiny, stuffy room off the kitchen with no windows. This was a clean, airy room with a lovely view. She could smell the starched linens on the bed even before she touched them.

Downstairs, there was a small kitchen and a communal dining room. The nuns rarely used the convent kitchen because their meals were brought over from the orphanage via a dumbwaiter. The parlor was very small, and was used almost exclusively on those rare occasions when a sister received visits from family members. The chapter room was much bigger. It was both a meeting room and a rec room, complete with a television set and a ping pong table. When Mercy exclaimed about that, Sister Lucille said, "Yes, we do have recreation here. Here are a couple of important tips: do not let Sister Josephina snooker you into a card game of any type. She plays for money and she cheats. Also do not let Sister Tobias offer to teach you to play ping pong. She is terrible. Sister Antonia is the one who should teach you to play ping pong if you want to learn."

"Are you allowed to watch TV?"

Lucille laughed, "We watch TV here about as often as the kids in the orphanage get to watch TV. Presidential inaugurations and other very newsworthy events. Occasionally Mother lets us watch a special movie. One thing we get to watch that the kids don't is baseball. Sister Theresa is the oldest of the sisters, and she is from Boston. Mother lets her watch baseball games whenever the Red Sox are on TV. We have talked about getting her a TV for her room, because nobody but else cares very much about baseball, but she enjoys watching with other people, so we try to humor her.

"That is an important point, Sister Mercy, and one you need to keep in mind from the beginning. You held yourself kind of aloof from the kids at the orphanage. That may have been understandable because you were older than most of them and you came very late in your childhood. You were more like an adult from the beginning, so it stood to reason that you would have taken the kind of motherly servant role you did.

"In the convent, you are the youngest and the least experienced. You can't hold yourself apart from the communal life here, at least not if you expect to be invited to stay."

The rest of the tour was relatively quick. Mercy had already visited the infirmary a couple of times for burns and cuts sustained in the kitchen, and to deliver meals to sick sisters. She visited the chapel about four time a day already. She realized, somewhat to her surprise, that living in the convent might be more like living in the orphanage than she ever imagined. She began to relax.

By mid-afternoon, she was back in the kitchen helping Sister Helen prepare for dinner. The long sleeves of the habit and the long dress got in her way at first. The rosary kept banging against the counter top. After a few minutes, Sister Helen walked over to Sister Mercy and turned her around. She dropped the rosary into the skirt pocket to keep it from banging against the stove, and undid her apron strings. She helped Sister Mercy into a new apron that had long sleeves with elastic at the wrist to keep them from getting in the food. That made all the difference. Mercy finished helping with dinner preparations without further incident.

As a very special treat to mark a unique day in the life of the orphanage and the convent, they were serving roast beef and mashed potatoes. Mercy made her signature dinner rolls which would let everyone in both the orphanage and the convent know that she was still in the kitchen, whipping up the amazing food they had come to expect from her.

After they cleaned up the kitchen, there was a bit of an awkward moment. Every night in the past, Sister Helen had gone off to pray in the chapel (because she usually missed Compline) while Mercy-formerly-Charlotte had gone to the library to study her books. That evening, Mercy started to say good-night and head for the library. Sister Helen cleared her throat and prompted, "Your room is that way." She pointed toward the passage that led to the back entrance of the convent."

"Do I have to go to the chapel?"

Sister Helen shook her head. "There is no requirement that you go to the chapel. We have Mother's permission to miss Compline because we have to clean up the kitchen. I choose to spend some time in prayer late in the evening. How you spend your evening is up to you."

"Am I allowed to read my books in my room?"

"Of course. We have lights out at eleven. You can go to bed early or read, or sit and stare at the wall."

Mercy smiled, "I have to get my books from the library."

Sister Helen grinned, "We're way ahead of you, honey. Sister Antonia moved them for you. They're in your room."

They walked through the passage together. Sister Helen headed for the chapel, Mercy went into her room and closed the door. She noticed in the dresser there were two long white muslin nightgowns. She took off her habit and slipped into the nightgown. Then she went to the bathroom down the hall to shower and brush her teeth. Less than twenty minutes later, she was back in her room propped up in bed reading a book about holiday traditions (especially as they relate to food) in different parts of the world. She totally lost track of the time, and was startled when the night proctor knocked on her door at 11:15. "Lights out, Sister Mercy. Go to bed."

Mercy slid her book under her bed and switched off the light. The next morning she awoke a few minutes before her alarm went off at 4:30 a. m. and headed for the kitchen where she made a pot of coffee and reviewed the menus for the day until Sister Helen arrived a few minutes before five. They worked companionably on the preparations for breakfast and then they ducked into the chapel at six o'clock, just as the opening prayers of Matins began. They sat in the back pew with a couple of others who worked at jobs away from the orphanage and prayed the service with the rest of the nuns, who were seated in the choir.

They served breakfast to the nuns at seven and to the children at eight. As soon as they finished cleaning up from breakfast, they began preparations for lunch.

Mid-morning, Mercy went to the garden to pick herbs and to do a bit of weeding. Sister Helen went into the chapel to pray alone for a while. They met in the kitchen at 10:30 and finished making lunch. In the afternoon, they prepared dinner and reviewed recipes for the next day, but only after Sister Helen put in a call to their produce supplier, which was a restaurant supply company that gave them huge discounts on produce that was dead ripe and not suitable for sale to regular restaurants. The arrangement saved the orphanage a lot of money, but it meant that they could only make their final menu plans a day or so in advance.

Sister Helen lamented the disorganization of it all; she preferred planning her menus at least a week in advance. Sister Mercy laughed and said, "I think it's kind of fun to try to work out what kind of meal we can make with an odd combination of stuff that won't keep one more day? It's kinda like what Ma and I used to do at home. Me and the boys would steal stuff from the dumpsters in back of the store if we couldn't buy or steal good stuff from inside. When you're stealin', you don't have time to pick an' choose. You grab an' run. We'd come home with some weird combinations of stuff and then Ma and me would make a game of how to make meals using all of it without wasting nothin'."

Sister Helen was shocked, "You stole food?"

Sister Mercy didn't miss a stroke with the chef's knife as she expertly diced carrots for a stew. "Yeah. We'd buy what we could afford ta pay for and then we'd steal anything else we needed to round out our meals. Now I know that was wrong. Then I didn't. I figgered we was poor and the folks that owned the store had plenty. At the time stealin' was the closest us kids had to a game we played."

"Aren't you sorry you stole? It's against the Commandments."

Sister Mercy shrugged, "Like I said, I wouldn't do it today. But, then, I don't need to do it today. Back then, my family went hungry sometimes, and me and my brothers stole food to feed us all. Mostly we stole from the dumpsters. That was stuff they was throwin' out anyway, so I don't know if that even counts as stealin' under the Bible rules. But, yeah, sometimes we stole stuff from inside the store, too. We needed to eat and I'm here to tell you we never wasted one teaspoon of anything we stole. I can't get too worked up about it." She thought about it for a while and said, "I gotta confess to you, if we ran out of money to feed our kiddies and the sisters, I'd steal to feed 'em today – although I'm not so sure I'm as quick as I used to be."

"Sister, you can't be serious."

"Maybe I'll learn better as time goes on, but right now, you bet I'd do it. It's my responsibility – or our responsibility – to feed these people. I think we should do whatever we have to do to feed 'em. Whatever it might take."

Sister Helen tried not to look as horrified as she felt. Later on Sister Mercy suspected that Sister Helen ratted her out to somebody because shortly thereafter, Sister Lucille mounted a campaign to turn her into a proper Catholic. It took a little while for Mercy to catch on to what was happening, but soon she picked up on the fact that the 'orientation' that Sister Lucille provided was very heavy on Church doctrine. She listened politely and learned the correct answers which she tried to regurgitate at more or less appropriate times. She noticed that they talked a lot about the Bible, but none of the sisters seemed to spend any time actually reading it. They read the Daily Office in their Missals and they gave her a lot of material put out by some organization called the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine that explained what the Bible stories meant and what the Church taught about all kinds of stuff, most of which was so utterly ridiculous Mercy had a hard time keeping a straight face during some of Sister's lectures.

Mercy became a voracious reader of certain kinds of books. She read books on history, geography, social studies, anthropology and science. She especially loved cultural and anthropological works that dealt with the kinds of foods different societies relied on for their nutrition. She refused to read any kind of fiction whatsoever, calling it a waste of time. She also generally refused to read religious books. She decided to make an exception for the Bible.

She went to the library and browsed through several different translations of the Bible, confused about why they were so different if they were the same book. She browsed through several reference books called "Commentaries". They provided an overwhelming amount of background information. She looked at three different Commentaries about the first chapter in the Bible, and discovered they disagreed about almost everything. She kept looking until she found a study Bible that had head notes and footnotes that were helpful but not overwhelming. She decided to start there. Beginning that night, she divided her reading time in half and spent the first part of her free time reading her "fun" books (the text books her tutor gave her) and the other part of her time (until the Proctor knocked on her door) reading the Bible.

At first it was slow going, but she gradually got the hang of the language and the vocabulary. She had to start over a couple of times because she kept learning new meanings for very important words that caused her to go back and re-read what she had already studied with new and different understanding. She certainly understood why the Bible was considered important because it contained a lot of wonderful stories, and some of them were beautifully written. She wasn't so sure about interpretation(s) the Church had applied to it, but she tried to keep an open mind, in view of the fact that she was totally new to the subject, and the Church people had been combing these texts for nearly two thousand years.

Fortunately for Mercy, she did not have enough Roman Catholic indoctrination to know that she was not supposed to read the Bible herself, grappling with all the hard stuff. She did not know that she was supposed to accept at face value the interpretations handed to her by Catholic theologians, who had a whole string of alphabet soup behind their names attesting to their credentials. She didn't know that she, an uneducated lay person, wasn't supposed to be able to read Scripture and come up with interpretations that spoke to her. Since she didn't know she couldn't do it, that is exactly what she did.

The first thing that surprised her was that she truly enjoyed reading the Bible. She hadn't expected to, after all the boring and awful things people had told her a about it. Yes, there were gory stories filled with bloodshed, rape, torture, incest and some things she didn't understand but knew they were very bad. She kind of expected that from what she'd heard about the book in church.

The thing that surprised her was how many of the stories contained gentle, loving and tender moments. She loved the Old Testament, especially the stories of the Patriarchs and their families that were as full of misfits, liars, thieves and con artists as hers was. She loved the scope and drama of the entire story of what the commentaries referred to as "salvation history." She wasn't all that crazy about the concept of "salvation", but she liked all the kings and queens and stories about God trying every which way there was to get through to the morons on Earth about what was good for them.

A lot of the stories made her cry, even more of them made her laugh out loud because they depicted people like her or people she knew reacting in very predictable human ways to interesting situations. She didn't think that she would ever be able to go so far as to believe that the stories in the Bible actually happened at any given time and place. But they certainly had a ring of deep Truth for her.

She thought of the Bible stories like a story her mother had told her over an over again called The Pony Engine. The story about the a too-big train that was pulled to its destination by a too-small engine simply because the engine tried so hard never actually happened, but Mercy's mother had impressed on her the fact that sometimes made-up stories tell very important information. While she was contemplating that issue, it occurred to her that that maybe she should reconsider her refusal to read fiction. (She never did.) She understood that the stories in the Bible spoke of truths that resonated deep in her heart and soul, even if the people were not historical figures or the events didn't actually happen the way the Bible said they did. She intuitively understood the power of metaphor, even if she could not have described it. For her purposes it made no difference whether or not the Bible described real people or real events. What mattered was the overall impression it left on her – the meaning of the stories, which inevitably rang true.

The New Testament never captured her imagination like the Old Testament did. The stories were not as dramatic or 'truthful'. She thought the writing wasn't as good and the characters were not as interesting for the most part. She loved Peter and the women. She especially loved Paul, with all his bluster and blow, insecurities and pain.

Jesus was an enigma for her. She liked the stories that allowed his humanity to shine through, such as the story about how he got distracted and separated from his family like a kid would do, and the story about where he lost his temper in the Temple. She especially liked the latter one because she felt as though somebody ought to do the same thing in the Church because it was just too stuffy and full of itself. But, for the most part, she had trouble feeling the same level of interest in Jesus as she did in the more realistic characters like Jacob, Jeremiah, Peter and Paul or the wonderful women like Rachel, Sarah, Esther, Ruth and the all the Marys of the New Testament.

Night by night, week by week, month by month, Mercy crawled her way through the Holy Scripture while holding down her day job as a cook and continuing to study the secular history, geography and cultural anthropology of the world around her. Mercy could barely write a grocery list, and only years later did she learn to speak grammatically, but she could read (and comprehend) books that were written at amazingly high levels of sophistication.

There were no secrets among the nuns. They knew what she was reading, and they tried to engage her in conversations about what she thought of the Bible. She steadfastly refused to discuss her conclusions. She said she hadn't finished the book yet, so it was too soon to have any opinions.

Her mentor, Sister Lucille, tried at every turn to provide proper indoctrination into the ways of the faith. Mercy listened politely and answered correctly when Sister Lucille probed to make sure she understood. Mercy said she comprehended what she was taught but most of the time she gave Sister Lucille the impression she did not necessarily agree with it, which Sister interpreted as meaning Mercy really didn't understand it. It drove Sister Lucille to the brink of distraction that Mercy was so dense – so she thought.

Because Mercy seemed to be failing to hie to the party line, Mother Anne assigned her to work with the Confessor who counseled all the other sisters. The general opinion among the women in the convent – other than Sister Helen (who kept her mouth resolutely shut on the subject of Sister Mercy) and Sister Ramona (who was her source for reading material) – was that Mercy was a very nice young girl and she was a fabulous cook, but she was stupid, perhaps even retarded.

Mother Superior asked the priest to set Mercy straight on doctrine and get it done PDQ. Sister Lucille's gentle mentoring was not working. Mother Superior wanted the priest to bring down the full magesterium of the Roman Catholic Church on Mercy's head. It didn't have to be polite or gentle; she wanted Mercy properly indoctrinated – thoroughly and promptly.

Mother Anne's decision to put Father Ted on the case totally backfired. As it turned out, the priest ended up learning more from Mercy than he taught her. He learned very quickly that Mercy was ignorant about many things, but she was definitely not stupid.

An event occurred early in their relationship that made Father Ted think Mercy was probably some variety of genius. Over the years, the story came to take on a kind of apocryphal meaning, and, eventually, some in the convent no longer believe that it actually happened. However, all of the people who were present at the time it happened told exactly the same story.

Soon after Father Ted was assigned to serve as Mercy's Confessor, he knew he had a special case on his hands. She showed no interest in religion at all. She confessed her sins dutifully every week. Her sins always consisted of transgressions against her fellow sisters or, occasionally, impatience with the children. Her entire concept of sin was rooted in the notion that sin is what disrupts human relationships. Father never could get Mercy to even consider sin that disrupted metaphysical relationships. At first he was inclined to agree with the sisters that she was stupid. At least until she proved to him how brilliant she was.

One day she came to her meeting with him carrying a book. After she confessed her sins and he gave her absolution, she asked if she could have a few minutes to ask him some questions. He agreed. She put the book on the table and pushed it towards him. "Is this cookbook written in French?"

He looked at it and told her it was. She continued, opening the pages and flipping through, "I figgered out the measurements. The cups and measurin' spoons in the kitchen have two sets of numbers. I figgered out that the other set of numbers (the one me and Sister Helen don't use) is the numbers this book uses. I figgered out how to do the measurements.

"I also figgered out some of the ingredients. By comparing these recipes with each other and with recipes I already know for bread and cakes and stuff, I figgered out words like eggs, and flour and milk. I wouldn't begin to try to pronounce 'em, but I can read 'em pretty good.

"What I can't figger out is the words for the flavorin's and the instructions for how to put the ingredients together. That, of course, is the really important part of a recipe that makes all the difference between a good cake and a great cake.

"I was wonderin' if you could go to the big library in Columbus or mebbe some used bookstore someplace and find a dictionary that tells what French words mean in English. I am sure there must be something like that. In our liberry we got a dictionary that tells what German words mean in English and we got one that goes both ways from Latin to English and back. There must be dictionaries like that for French. If you could get me one, I know I could figger out some of these recipes. I read in one of my textbooks that French cooks make some of the best bread and cakes anywhere in the world. I want to learn their secrets. I found this book in the liberry and I thought I might learn something about French baking from it."

The next week he brought her a French-English dictionary and a book on French grammar written in English.

The week after that, she brought him a pastry she had baked using a recipe she had translated. He told her it was excellent. She pointed to the page in the French cookbook which she had translated into her crabbed handwriting, complete with horrendously spelled English. He had studied French in college, and recognized immediately that Mercy had done an excellent (if messy) job translating the words. She had done an even more amazing job of employing the techniques described and turning out a French pastry as good as Father had ever tasted. He immediately and forever revised opinion of her mental capacity, but he didn't share that information with anyone else for a long time.

It troubled him that she showed so little interest in God or the Church, while showing so much interest in the needs of the Sisters, the children and the few other people with whom she came into contact. She showed no interest in the spiritual realm at all. If she (or some scientist or researcher) couldn't see it, taste it, touch it or feel it, she was utterly uninterested in it. She told Father Ted she had too many things to do and to many real things to learn about to waste any time at all speculating about things she would never be able to understand until after she died, if then. She told him she'd worry about all that stuff when the time came.

Initially Father Ted was shocked and he redoubled his efforts to make her understand the importance of the things he was trying to impart to her. Eventually he realized he was wasting his time.

Before long, he came to understand from observing her that Mercy was already living a Christ-like existence when he arrived to "teach" her religion. She interpreted the message of the Bible as meaning that she was supposed to follow Jesus. For her that meant do what he did: feed the hungry, tend the sick, care for orphans. Mercy somehow managed to by-pass two thousand years of theology and ecclesiastical development and go straight to the heart of Christ's instructions to his followers: feed my lambs.

Father Ted and Mercy developed a mutual mentoring relationship that lasted until he died.

Despite the urgings – and occasional rantings – from Mother Anne, Father Ted did not push Mercy to conform to the ecclesiastical party line. Instead he let her lead him into areas she wanted to study. He answered her questions as best he could and did his best to teach her about the things she wanted to learn about.

Over the years she took him on a wild ride through Catholic theology (later she even read Protestant theology and Jewish commentary, but she kept that to herself), church history, hermeneutics, ecclesiology and, even, Christology. In later years, Father Ted told his students and others who came to him for spiritual direction that he learned more about spirituality from Sister Mercy than all the teachers, preachers and confessors he had ever encountered.

But that came later. In those first few years, Father Ted and Sister Lucille despaired of ever turning Mercy into a proper Christian. They both loved her desperately and did not want her to have to leave the convent, so they pushed her relentlessly to learn doctrine and tried to convince her to believe the teachings of the Church.

She learned the doctrine, all right. There was no problem with that. She learned doctrine backwards and forwards and she learned enough theology to refute almost every point of Roman Catholic Doctrine. Father Ted sometimes fantasized about taking her over to Notre Dame University (his alma mater) and putting her in a theology seminar. But for her atrocious spoken grammar, he thought she could probably hold her own with the best of the Church's practitioners of the Queen of Sciences. He loved to refer to theology using that nick-name in front of Sister Mercy because it always made her go nuts. She studied theology because she felt she needed to do so as a defensive mechanism against all the indoctrination Sister Lucille and Father Ted were trying to drum into her, but she saw nothing "scientific" about it.

She believed that theology, meditation, and most other spiritual disciplines were a waste of time. She made an exception for fasting which she thought was a very good discipline because it was "real" and it had physical and emotional benefits. She didn't know if it had any spiritual benefit, and she didn't care.

Mercy knew all the Church's teachings, but she thought most of it was complete and utter hogwash. No one in the Church was ever able to make her understand that she was not supposed to have her own opinions on matters about which the Church had spoken. She steadfastly refused to even listen to any suggestion that the teaching authority of the church could trump human free will and free thought. In later years, Pope John Paul II would state emphatically that the Roman Church was not a "grocery store religion." Mercy vigorously disagreed; she took it for granted that she could pick and choose what to believe from among the Church's teachings. Neither Father Ted nor Sister Lucille was ever able to convince her that she was supposed to buy into the whole package. Mercy was unfailingly polite about it, but she would never bend her will to that degree. She was polite enough not to openly challenge her superiors, and never on questions of theology, which Mercy didn't think were important enough to argue about.

It was perfectly fine with her if others wanted to believe the Catholic party line. For her part, Mercy felt free to believe (or not to believe) in accordance with her conscience, and she never wavered from that position.

Both Father Ted and Sister Lucille lived in fear that Mother Anne would make Mercy leave if she did not cooperate, so they tried very hard to turn Mercy around in private and to hide her heterodoxy from the Mother.

They didn't know that Mother Anne was aware of Mercy's views on religion. She was, however, just as determined as Father Ted and Sister Lucille somehow to find a way to keep Mercy in the convent, in part because Mercy was such a fabulous cook who didn't demand a salary, but even more because her very presence in the convent had a salubrious effect on the entire community. What was more, Mercy was gloriously happy there – at least as long as nobody hassled her about religion (or lack thereof).

Mother Anne knew that, while Mercy may not have been the most "orthodox" nun in the convent, she was the kindest, most even tempered, loving and nurturing of all the nuns. She never seemed to be in a bad mood. She went out of her way to do small kindnesses for both the sisters and the orphans. In only the few years she had been in the kitchen (as a resident of the orphanage and then as a postulant) Sister Mercy had become the most well-loved person on either side of the house. She returned that love, in full measure, spilling over.

Mother Anne, Father Ted and Sister Lucille each pondered deeply (both by themselves and in conversations with one another) how it could be that someone with such strange beliefs could be so Christ-like. They all kept close watch on Mercy, both to protect her from others because she was so open-hearted and (it seemed to them) vulnerable. They never admitted to one another but they also kept her close because they each wanted to learn the secret of her ability to be so vulnerable and (apparently) emotionally naked, while at the same time being so strong (to the point of stubborn). They watched her closely and (they thought) surreptitiously.

Mercy knew exactly what was going on. From her early years in an abusive home, Mercy had developed a kind of radar that people who grew up in "normal" homes don't need. She could tell when people were watching her; it was a skill she learned of necessity growing up in the home of a violent father and three older brothers who were kept completely away from other girls. She could detect when she was getting what she considered undue or inappropriate attention from someone, and she had a way of making herself all but disappear. That was a skill she developed early in life as a survival tool. It served her well in the convent, too. She knew that she was receiving an inordinate amount of attention, and she also knew why.

The ministrations of Father Ted, Sister Lucille and (to a lesser degree) Mother Superior were problematic for Sister Mercy. She knew they all truly loved her and wanted her to remain in the convent if that was what she wanted. She understood that it would have been easiest for all concerned if she simply went along with what they were teaching her. That might not have been all that difficult for her to do. It wasn't as though she had deeply held faith of her own. She didn't. It would have been easy for her to pretend to accept at face value the things her mentors taught her. At that point, she had no personal experience of the numinous (at least as her teachers described it), so she had nothing on which to base any objections to the things they told her about Jesus, his followers, the Saints or, even, God – other than her gut reaction that told her most of what they were teaching her was second- and third- (or more) hand information that had become terribly garbled in the translation. It didn't make sense to her, so she rejected most of it.

She knew she could easily pretend to buy into their doctrines. She was polite and respectful enough not to challenge them, but she was also strong enough in her faith in her internal spiritual gyroscope that she could not accept Church teaching at face value. What was worse: she was too honest to be able to lie about it, not that she had any moral compunctions about lying if it was necessary.

Sister Mercy was not interested in metaphysics or academic theology. She didn't believe there was such a thing as "meta"-physics because for her reality was simply what it was, and for Sister Mercy "reality" encompassed a much broader spectrum than the the typical post-Enlightenment rationalism that defined Reality for most people living in the West during the 20th Century.

The thing that none of her mentors ever understood was that Mercy had grown up with a completely different understanding of reality than they had. What they saw as "meta"-physics or "mystical" experience, Mercy understood to be ordinary reality. She knew what other people were thinking and feeling, not because of any "extra"-sensory perception but because she saw small muscle movements, smelled subtle changes in body chemistry and heard inflections in peoples' voices that most other people didn't notice. She heard the messages in the chatter of squirrels and birds and the activities of dogs and cats. She picked up "vibrations" of things going on in the world that she often did not understand, but she knew them to be "real". She had never been to school and had never learned rational, linear thinking. She operated on instinct and an amazing perceptiveness.

Her Christian mentors never understood that Mercy operated from a psychological and intellectual world view that probably had more in common with that of the biblical characters than it did with her teachers' understanding of reality. She took for granted there were powers and forces she did not, could not and would not ever understand, and she accepted that without question. She accepted that as being the natural order of things, and she felt that probing into things she could not understand was a waste of time and, perhaps, dangerous. The spiritual realm fell into that category. Mercy was somewhat afraid of it and steered clear of it as much as possible. That didn't mean she doubted its existence – or its power.

She felt the same way about God. There was no way she could know for sure there was a God, so she didn't spend too much time or energy on the question. When pressed, she would go so far as to say the she found it hard to believe that such a magnificent Creation could have happened by accident. Beyond that, she refused to speculate – to the utter despair of her mentors.

Sister Mercy was always very careful to hide from everyone the degree to which she was a moral relativist. For her moral and ethical decisions were personal matters. She hardly ever presumed to understand (or even worry about) what the sisters called "God's will" She resented those who spoke so glibly about what God "wanted" of God's children. She believed God spoke to each of God's children in a special and secret way that could not be heard or understood by others. She tended to give God a whole lot more credit than any of her Catholic mentors or peers. She also gave God's children a whole lot more latitude than the Church did, but she kept that strictly to herself.

She never lost her complete and utter disdain for what passed in her circle as "mystical" religion. She believed the sisters who held themselves out to be "mystics" were for the most part trying to make themselves out to be somehow "special" in the eyes of the Lord and their Community. If Mercy had any fundamental core conviction, it would have been that nobody is "more special" than anybody else. She believed that every single aspect of God's Good Creation was "special", "unique" and totally deserving of both God's love and human respect. She never bought into the doctrine of original sin or even the need for salvation. (She kept that to herself.) For her, Creation itself was fundamentally Good, even if humans often behaved in vile and evil ways and did everything they could to screw it up.

Mercy's internal radar about people told her that a lot of the sisters who bragged the most about their visions and voices had the shallowest experience of their life in the convent, perhaps because they spent so much time in their heads with their visions, they didn't pay attention to the human needs around them. As far as Mercy was concerned, those women were nothing but slackers. On the other hand, Mercy noticed there were some other nuns who rarely spoke about their experiences (a couple of the older sisters hardly spoke at all) but they radiated a kind of peace and kindness that Mercy thought was the kind of thing the rest of them ought to be aiming for. It was certainly what she strove to achieve.

For Mercy, life was a simple matter of doing the best she could to live up to what she believed was her purpose for being in that place at that time. As she understood it, her purpose was to feed and take care of the people who were entrusted to her care. She understood those people to be the children in the orphanage and the sisters in the convent. Caring for them, feeding them, loving them was the root and sole purpose for her life. To the extent that God, Jesus, the Church, the saints, the Order, Mother Superior or anything else assisted her in fulfilling her purpose, she was willing to accept the help. To the extent any of them stood in the way of fulfilling her purpose, she felt free to ignore them or even oppose them.

She cooperated with her training by Sister Lucille and by Father Ted in part because she had no choice, but also because she did pick up a lot of tidbits of what she found to be useful information. After she finished reading all the high school textbooks her tutor had to offer, Father Ted took over as the source for her reading material, and he never censored what he gave her to read. Over time, she came to love Sister Lucille and Father Ted. The convent thought of them as her teacher and Confessor. Sister Mercy thought of them as the Good Parents she had never had.

While the tumult of the Sixties raged in the world outside, within the walls of St. Mary's, Sister Mercy's days unrolled like an endless string of rosary beads, each nearly identical and yet special. After two years as a postulant she was way overdue to become a novice. That process should have involved counseling with Father Ted and Mother Superior to verify that she had a vocation to the communal life. In view of the fact that Mercy resolutely resisted any conversation that dealt with "calling" or vocation, they skipped that whole exercise. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Mercy was perfectly suited to life in the convent, and that she wanted to stay there permanently.

One day Mother Anne called Mercy to the office where she and Father Ted were waiting. They already knew that Mercy did not appreciate being interrupted from her work during the day because interruptions threw off her meal timetable. They respected her devotion to her duties and usually made daytime meetings short. They didn't beat around the bush. Mother Anne asked Mercy bluntly if she felt ready to make her temporary vows as a novice.

Mercy pursed her lips and thought about it. She said, "I knew you would ask me that question sooner or later, and I been thinkin' a lot about it. On the one hand, it seems to me that it would be kinda awkward for you to bring me in officially knowing as well as you do that I really don't fit into the Catholic religion very well. On the other hand, it seems to me that I fit into the life in this convent and orphanage pretty good, and I personally would love the chance to stand up in front of the sisters and tell 'em I'm willing to stick it out with 'em through thick and thin. I look at it as kinda like getting adopted into your convent family."

She shrugged and said, "If you're willin' to keep me even knowin' what you know about me, I'm willin' to promise to keep the Rule and make the vows. But, if you think I don't qualify, I'll understand and it won't hurt my feelings. Well, it prob'ly will hurt my feelings, but I'll understand. You got your rules you got to go by and we all know that I don't exactly fit into the Church box.

"If you don't want me to make my vows, then I'd like to talk about some kinda arrangement that would let me keep workin' in the kitchen here, maybe as a lay oblate. There's room in that little pantry behind the kitchen for a bed, if I could still shower in the Sisters' bathroom or in the orphanage."

Mother Superior and Father Ted were shocked. Sister Mercy had, for one thing, just uttered the longest speech either of them had ever heard her make. As Mercy had read more and listened to the conversations of the well-educated sisters, she realized her spoken English was horrendous. She tried to improve her grammar and pronunciation, but those deeply ingrained speech patterns were difficult to change, and she was embarrassed by how ignorant she sounded. Therefore, she spoke as little as possible, which turned out to be surprisingly easy for her. In later years, she cherished her silence so much, speaking became a real effort.

Knowingly or not (and Father Ted never doubted for a second she did it intentionally), Mercy had put them in an ethical quandary. She had never openly admitted she did not buy into the religious indoctrination they were trying to impart to her. She was polite, respectful, and never ventured to disagree with anything they had told her. They could have easily pretended not to see that she was somehow "different". They could have put her through the process of taking her vows, pretending her vocation was normal.

She refused to let them take the easy (and dishonest) route. She laid out for them that their clear choice was to accept her into the community as she was or, if that was a problem, make other arrangements.

Having said her piece, Sister Mercy sat quietly, waiting for their answer. After a very long silence, Mother Superior said, "Go back to the kitchen and finish lunch, dear. We'll chat again at the end of the day after I've had a chance to speak to Father and to Sister Lucille."

Mercy started to leave the room. She turned at the door and said, "Don't be late for lunch, Mother, we've got your favorite corn chowder. You'll want to get it while it's hot and before the other sisters eat it all up."

Mother Superior laughed and asked, "Will there be enough to invite Father?"

Mercy smiled and winked, "I'll add an extra can of corn and some more milk."

After she left, Mother chuckled and remarked, "The wench is trying to sway my vote with my favorite soup."

"Is it going to work?"

"After you've tasted it, you won't ask that question." She furrowed her brow and threw the ball into his lap, "Alright, Father, you're the spiritual authority around here, what do you think we should do, now?"

"Do you think she did that on purpose?"

"What?"

"Tossed out that little ethical grenade."

"Of course not. She's not nearly that sophisticated."

Father Ted raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He thought about it for a little while and said, "Sister Mercy has lived here for almost four years. The first two in the orphanage. These last two in the convent. She has never taken a day off. She has never been sick. She has never complained except about your handling of her brother's adoption. She has never participated in any of the drama that goes on in the Chapter. As a matter of fact, I'm guessing she may be virtually oblivious to the fact that there is drama in the Chapter. No one has ever complained about her. She prays the Hours. She read the whole Bible and two commentaries during the course of the last two years. I'll bet few of your other sisters have done that!"

"She what?!"

"She borrowed a Bible from the library and I lent her a couple of commentaries. She read the whole thing from 'In the beginning' to 'Come, Lord Jesus' – including all the footnotes and most of the commentaries."

"What did she say about it?"

"She said it was a really good book, but some parts were hard to understand and some of the stories were better than others. She declined to elaborate."

Mother Superior laughed, "I'm guessing you didn't push her on that."

"You got that right, Sister. Someday, after she's made her final vows, I may ask her. I chose not to do so just yet."

"So you think she's sophisticated enough in her understanding to have done this intentionally."

"I'm not sure she understands the seriousness of our predicament. I think her point was to make it clear that we and the Church and the sisters and God himself will have to take her as she is, or not at all. I will level with you, Sister, and tell you that I personally believe with all my heart that she belongs here. I will admit to you that my opinion is swayed by the fact that I've grown very fond of her. I've served as Confessor to a lot of your sisters as well as a couple of other convents around town. I've never seen a postulant who fit in so quickly and so completely into the monastic life. I think she belongs here, whether she considers herself to have a vocation or not, and whether or not you or I think she's a proper Christian."

Mother Superior thought about it and gazed out the window, "I agree with you. She exudes an aura of joy and tranquility that we typically only see in really old nuns whose spirituality has been polished by decades of prayer and sacrifice. Sometimes I peek into the kitchen and watch her and Helen work. They don't just cook the food: they consecrate it. They hallow our community by their very presence.

"Mercy is a survivor. She'll manage to find or forge a place for herself no matter where she goes. Obviously, we are right to be concerned about her lack of orthodoxy, but I think that we should take into account the fact that she has never once been heard to offer any opinion on the subject of religion, so she's not apt to foment rebellion in the ranks. On the contrary, she is the model of obedience and cooperation."

"Which tells me you've made up your mind."

"I have, unless you object."

"I don't object. Mercy loves living here. She contributes more to the community than I can even imagine. She is positively an inspiration to the children in the orphanage. If for no other reason than because it will be a kindness to her, I think you should invite her to be a part of the community."

"I don't think Mercy has ever felt she totally 'belonged' anywhere. I would like to give her the opportunity to belong here."

"I'll totally support that decision."

She sighed, "I hope we don't regret this."

He said gently, "I'm guessing there may be times we will."

Mother Superior met with Mercy again immediately after supper and invited her to take her temporary vows as a novice. Mercy grinned and agreed. She asked if the children at the orphanage could attend the service. Mother agreed and suggested that it should be the subject of a celebration. She said, "It's kind of unfortunate that you are the convent's resident 'party planner' because it means you will have to plan your own celebration."

"That's okay, Mother. Really. Planning this party will be very special for me. Will Sister Lucille be in charge?"

"No. Sister Antonia is the choir director and liturgical expert around here. She and Father Ted will be in charge of planning the service. I guess you will have to work with them to plan the music and reading. You can make arrangements for the food; I'm sure Sister Helen will be delighted to help you."

Mother Superior turned to go. She shared a smile with Sister Helen, and they both noticed Sister Mercy doing a little jig in front of the the sink full of dirty pots and pans. Sister Helen had to turn away quickly, but not before Mother saw the tears in her eyes. She knew there would be more tears and many grateful prayers offered up by most of the sisters at Compline. Virtually every one of the sisters wanted Mercy to be allowed to stay, but they all knew it had never been a sure thing.

As Mother knelt in the chapel that evening, offering her own prayers of thanksgiving for the gift of Mercy among them, she admitted to herself for the first time that one enormous factor in her decision was a practical consideration that was worthy of Mercy's radically practical thought processes: of the eleven nuns remaining in the convent, three were over seventy, five more were over 45. Mercy was approximately 20. The next youngest sister was 35. The "newest" sister who was still in the convent had taken her vows more than ten years ago. The convent needed new blood.

What was more, Sister Helen was 67. She had been the head cook for nearly 40 years. As Mercy had pointed out, Helen was not as spry as she used to be. Mercy, on the other hand, seemed to be immune to all disease; she never tired; she never asked for time off. She was the perfect person to feed and care for this community of women as they aged, and eventually died off.

Mother acknowledged that she, herself, was 65, and would very likely be a recipient of Mercy's ministrations in the not too distant future.

Ethics aside, religious doctrine aside, Mother Anne believed Mercy had been sent by the Lord to care for the sisters and the orphans – whether Mercy believed it or not.

Mother was flooded with a sense of peace and satisfaction. She knew she had made the right decision. She suspected she might be called on to defend that decision someday, and defend it she most definitely would. At that very moment, she saw Helen slip in the back pew as she did nearly every evening at the last minute. For the first time ever, Mercy was with her. They knelt almost shoulder to shoulder. Mother saw Helen reach over and take Mercy's hand. For several moments, Mercy's shoulders shook as though she were crying. Mother realized she could not rule out the possibility that Mercy was actually laughing. Something deep in her soul hoped that is exactly what Mercy was doing.

And, as a matter of fact it was. Mercy did not intend to go to chapel with Sister Helen that evening, but Sister Helen's joy and gratitude were contagious, and Mercy decided to join the other sisters in their prayers that evening. She had been feeling wave after wave of gratitude all day long, but did not really have the desire to go to church and kneel down to express it. She expressed her gratitude by pouring extra love and devotion into her work. Still, the communal prayer time was important to the other sisters, and Mercy felt that if she was going to truly be one of them she needed to get with the program. Besides, she liked the communal prayers and music.

She followed Helen into the chapel and knelt as usual. Helen surprised her by reaching over to take her hand, and gently squeeze it. Mercy could count on her fingers the times in her life when someone reached out and physically touched her, skin to skin. Holding hands with that wonderful elderly woman with whom she had worked fourteen hours a day every day for four years, moved her more deeply than anything ever had. Years and years worth of uncried tears welled up from the bottom of her soul and would have wracked her body with sobbing had she let herself go. She cried quietly for a few minutes, first out of love for the friend and mentor and co-worker who knelt next to her, and then for the wonderful women whose voices filled the chapel with the glorious Gregorian chant that seemed to come from the very choir of Heaven itself.

In a few minutes the tears of love and gratitude were pushed aside by burning tears of pain, loss and loneliness. Mercy immediately let her Inner Cop call a halt to that self-pitying nonsense. She thought it was ridiculous to cry out her fear and loneliness when she was surrounded by these wonderful people who loved her and who had just invited her to be a part of their community so she would never be lonely again. She told herself that she would cry those tears another time. (She never did because she never needed to.)

As soon as she got a grip and staunched the flow of tears, she found herself awash in hilarity and found herself carried away by one of the worst giggle fits she ever had in church (and she was very prone to them). She couldn't help but laugh at the fact that it would be this particular group of women who would invite her to become one of them: ultra-religious women who truly believed all that Catholic hocus-pocus that didn't make any sense to her. Mercy believed they all had to know that Mercy didn't buy into their religion, even if she made up for it in her delight in the communal life they shared. She wanted to throw back her head and laugh at the utter magnificence of the almost biblical irony. Instead she put her head down and hoped against all hope the nuns all thought she was still crying, which she knew they would think was the more appropriate reaction.

Eventually, she got herself under control, fortunately just before the service was over. She wiped the laughing-tears from her eyes, and accepted the kind words murmured by most of the sisters as they passed her on their way out of the church. For some reason, she did not get up to leave immediately. For the first time, she stayed in the chapel alone. She discovered that she was anything but alone. The chapel felt alive. Its very walls and statuary thrummed with joy. Generations upon generations of women had prayed the place into holy ground. Something of their essence seemed to linger. For the first time Mercy had an inkling of the meaning of that "Communion of Saints" the sisters talked about so much. She knelt in the back pew of the chapel, barely breathing. She wondered if that Communion would accept her as readily as the sisters had done. Considering that she wasn't really interested in the spiritual realm, she rather doubted it.

The two sisters responsible for taking care of the altar that week came out of the sacristy, oblivious to Mercy's presence. She watched them fold the altar cloths and replace them with fresh linen. They worked quickly and efficiently but with reverence. It reminded Mercy of watching Sister Helen make noodles, an act which almost always made Mercy want to cry because Helen did it with such love. After they prepared the altar, they set up the side table for Holy Communion the next day. One of them poured the wine and water into the cruets. The other carefully counted out the wafers for Communion. Somehow Mercy knew that as Sister laid the wafers on the paten, she was thinking of each of the sisters individually, by name. She was blessing the bread in a very special and meaningful way before the priest who would preside over the actual Consecration ever touched them. Mercy allowed herself to wonder momentarily which blessing God appreciated more.

Since she didn't really believe in the kind of God the Church taught about, she decided that for her part, she considered the Communion bread adequately consecrated by her Sister. From then on, she received Communion with reverence and gratitude (but without ever letting on that they were directed at her Community and not the Lord Jesus Christ, who continued to be an impenetrable mystery for her).

The sisters put out the candles, leaving only the sanctuary light. They left by the side door, not showing any signs they were aware she was there.

Still kneeling and with her hands folded and resting on the pew in front of her, Mercy leaned back and let her backside rest against the pew, in what Sister Lucille called the "three-point landing" that was okay if you were old, sick or totally alone in the church, but absolutely verboten any other time. She simply rested there in the quiet, smelling the sweet-acrid scent of the recently extinguished beeswax candles, lemony furniture polish, pungent incense and the barest hint of the small dishes of flowers that sat on the altar and in front of the statue of the Blessed Mother. Somehow she could almost hear music, as though the chants and hymns had – like the incense – seeped into the very wood and stone of the building.

Mercy understood that evening that it didn't matter what she or any of the other nuns believed about God or Jesus or anything the Church said, what mattered was that they gathered to pray and sing and love one another so faithfully so many times a day, every day. The love that filled the chapel seemed to be luminous, shining with the soul-light of the women who had hallowed the place with their prayers and devotion to one another and to the work they did. She felt as though the very walls and floors and pews themselves were inviting her to stay and be a part of that. Mercy knew that she had found her true home.

For the first time, Mercy understood what Father Ted and Sister Lucille and Mother Superior had been talking about when they referred to a "Call" to the religious life. She knew that not only was she accepted and loved by the sisters who lived in the Community. She belonged there in some deeper way that she didn't understand – and didn't need to. She resisted the urge to give in to another round of hilarity about the ridiculousness of where her true home turned out to be.

After that, she went back to her usual habit of skipping Compline in order to finish cleaning up in the kitchen and doing the preliminary preparations for breakfast the next day, but she took to stopping by the chapel for a few minutes alone later before going to her room to read. Mercy did not pray when she was alone. She prayed only with the others in communal prayer, and then she only read the prayers from the prayerbook. During her alone time, she did not kneel; she sat erect in the pew with her feet resting on the kneeler pad, resting her feet, relaxing her mind, and luxuriating in the love and joy that permeated the room. She thought of it as a kind of a nightly warm bath for her spirit.

The sisters decided to hold Mercy's novitiate ceremony the following Saturday, which was the Feast of St. Elizabeth of Hungary. Elizabeth was the patron saint of bread bakers and homeless people. She also was reputed to have gotten cross-wise with the royal court of Thuringia because she didn't fully cooperate with the pomp and show of court life. She preferred simple devotions and acts of mercy to the poor. The nuns thought that would be a perfect occasion for Mercy's vows. Every one of them, including (especially) Mercy, appreciated and delighted in the appropriateness of the choice.

On Thursday, Mercy asked Mother Superior if she could have a moment of her time after lunch. Mercy rarely initiated a request for a meeting, and Mother Anne worried that Mercy was having second thoughts. She invited Mercy to join her in the office as soon as she could get away from the kitchen.

A little while later, Mercy knocked on the door. Mother invited her to enter and sit. They chatted for a moment, Mother commenting on the lightness of the biscuits at lunch, and Mercy commenting it was a new twist on an old recipe. She then cut right to the chase, "How come we always use those little round crackers for Communion instead of actual bread?"

"Well, for one thing, the Bible says that Jesus used unleavened bread. Regular bread has yeast in it."

"I read that in some churches they use regular bread."

"Yes, I guess they do. I don't know that there's any rule that requires us to use the wafers we buy from the Carmelites. Why?"

"Well, two things. First, I don't know how much money you spend on those wafers every year, but I figger I prob'ly feed the birds enough stale bread every day to give Communion to all the sisters and the kiddies who come to church, too. It would cost you absolutely nothing to use bread from the kitchen, if you're interested in savin' a few dollars.

"Second, even if you don't want to use it all the time, I'd like to bake the bread for the Eucharist on Saturday. The sisters suggested we do the vowing on St. Elizabeth's feast day, and I been readin' about her. She is the patron saint of homeless people and also of bread bakers, amongst other things. I been homeless, and baking bread is my favorite thing in the world. It seems like it would feel real special to me to bake the Communion bread for that service, if you know what I mean."

The old nun thought for a minute and tried really hard not to jump up and do a back-flip. She was thrilled on the one hand to have been given a completely painless way to save several hundred dollars a year that she truly couldn't spare. Even more, she was ecstatic to have the very first indication that Mercy was making what Mother Superior believed to be some kind of spiritual progress. She pursed her lips as though debating (she didn't want Mercy to get the idea she was willing to make exceptions to normal practice too easily because she feared what other ideas Mercy would come up with that would not be so easy to accommodate), and then she smiled, "I think it would be lovely for you to bake the bread for the Eucharist on Saturday. Perhaps a small loaf of some really dense bread would do very nicely. We'll see how the sisters and the children respond to that before deciding if we'll do it more often."

Mercy stood up and grinned, "I think that's a good idea. Thank you. I was lookin' forward to making a special dinner for after the service. Now, I'll feel I have something to contribute to the Mass too." She made a face, "You know I can't carry a tune in a bucket – Sister Antonia often encourages me to just listen to the music – and I'm not good at readin' out loud so I don't get to lead the prayers. A lot of times I feel like I don't contribute anything at all to the services in church. If I can bring the bread, I would feel like I'm doin' my part."

Mother stood up and smiled, "Sister Mercy, you contribute more to this Community than you will ever know, but I understand your desire to offer something of yourself to the worship services. On behalf of the Community, we gratefully accept your offer of bread for the Eucharist on Saturday."

Mercy inclined her head and bowed ever so slightly at the waist, the way nuns do to show respectful obedience. Then she turned and went back to the kitchen. After she was gone, Mother pumped the air and did a tiny happy dance. She was still smiling when Sister Antonia walked in a few minutes later.

Sister laughed and said, "You look like the cat that ate the canary."

"I feel very happy." She explained about Sister Mercy's offer. Sister Antonia was not so thrilled because she was afraid that doing something so different would upset some of the sisters. Mother said, "I'm not so sure about that. They all love Mercy. I think they'll see it as a sweet gift from her on the occasion of her preliminary vows. It will remain to be seen whether they'll go along with such a thing on a regular basis."

They discussed Saturday's service and the Sunday liturgies as well, and Mother signed off on the plans. She barely listened to Antonia's rhapsodizing about the technicalities of the liturgies. Mother hardly ever listened to the services anyway. She went into the church, picked up her rosary and sank into a place of deep silence. Liturgical worship had never been her "thing" although she would never have admitted that to anyone in the Church. She missed the pre-Vatican II days when the services were all in Latin, and were conducted entirely by the priest, with musical help from the choir. She liked being able to pray her rosary without paying attention to the service. The post-Vatican II services (emphasizing participation by the congregation) annoyed her.

Mercy's initial vows went very well. The service was simple but lovely, and the music was fabulous. Mercy herself was as radiant as a bride. Father Ted and several of the nuns who attended commented later that none of them had ever really noticed how pretty Mercy was. She had always been so shy and retiring, they had never noticed what she looked like. In the kitchen, she kept her face down. In Chapter, she sat off in the corner, usually in the shadow. In chapel she sat in the back row, also in the shadow. Several of the nuns mentioned that day was the first time most of them saw her full face. She was a beautiful young woman, with alabaster skin, dark eyes and naturally red lips. She wore no make-up, of course, but she was positively radiant with good physical health – and with joy. Her physical health and endurance became legendary in the convent, and most of the sisters attributed it to her genes, but Mercy knew that a lot of her good health arose from her refusal to let illness get her down, and from eating very healthy food and getting plenty of exercise running up and down the hundreds of stairs in the orphanage and convent.

After the service, there was a celebration dinner in both the convent and the orphanage. Mercy helped prepare the meal, but a few sisters and some of the older children formed a team to help serve and clean up, so Mercy could enjoy her party with the rest of the sisters. That clearly made her uncomfortable at first because it was the first time she had ever eaten in the convent dining room, but soon she lost herself in listening to the sisters telling stories. She attended Compline and then went off to read.

After that, her life went on exactly as it had before, except that she wore the habit of a novice instead of that of a postulant.

Three years after she took her temporary vows, she took final vows of lifelong poverty, chastity and obedience, once again on the feast of St. Elizabeth of Hungary. They dispensed with the party on that occasion. The ceremony coincided with an intestinal flu epidemic that had flattened three quarters of the sisters and about half of the children. Sister Mercy spent most of the day she was to take her vows cooking massive pots of soup and delivering meals to the infirmaries in the orphanage and the convent.

She and the few sisters who were not sick (all of whom had been drafted into nursing duties) took time out from caring for the sick to attend an abbreviated service during which Mercy took her final vows, the priest blessed her, the sisters shared a quick Communion together – and then everyone raced back to their nursing duties.

Soon after she took her final vows, Sister Helen came down with pneumonia, and Mercy became the head cook. All of the nuns who were young enough to work in the kitchen worked at jobs outside the convent. The older nuns tried to help in shifts, but most of them were so feeble they had difficulty lifting the heavy pans and bowls, not to mention the fact that most of them were teachers and nurses who had never set foot in a kitchen before. They were were almost totally incompetent and, in many ways, worse than no help at all.

Mercy suggested that Mother assign some of the older children in the orphanage (boys and girls) to kitchen duty. She thought that helping in the kitchen might give them some life skills they would need anyway. Mother agreed immediately, and thereafter all residents of the orphanage who were fifteen or older had to take turns in the kitchen according to a posted schedule. When certain children expressed particular interest in learning to cook, Mercy accommodated them, with the intention of teaching them a skill they would need when they left the convent. Years later, one of her "kids" ended up becoming the head chef at one of the hottest restaurants in Chicago. In a newspaper interview the young man attributed his love for cooking and feeding people to Sister Mercy. She kept that article, laminated in plastic, on a bulletin board in the kitchen.

When she recovered from her illness, Sister Helen returned to the kitchen on a part-time basis, but Mercy was clearly the woman in charge. Sister Helen delighted in watching Mercy blossom from merely a great cook (which she always had been) into a leader in the Community.

And Mercy was, indeed, a leader in the Community. She was not aware of the true extent of her influence, but even Mercy knew that she was a force to be reckoned with in the Chapter. Her self-confidence increased dramatically after she took over the management of the kitchen. She took responsibility for ordering the food, mapping out the menus and training her helpers, while still doing the lion's share of the actual hands-on cooking. Her efficiency and managerial skills were readily apparent to everyone.

She rarely spoke in Chapter meetings, but when she did, it was always to offer a well-thought-out suggestion or an opinion on an issue that she could back up with facts and figures either from her kitchen management experience or her wide reading. In only a few years time, no important decision was made without Mercy's input. On many issues, the sisters asked her what she thought, and then went with whatever she suggested. The only time they had problems making decisions was about questions on which Mercy had no particular opinion.

As Mother Superior had expected, the older sisters began to fail one by one and no new postulants came to join them.

At the same time, there were fewer and fewer children in the orphanage, but the new ones who came to them were increasingly damaged. In previous years, orphans tended to come from otherwise ordinary homes where the parents had died or were unable to care for their children. Increasingly, the new children had been taken away from abusive and neglectful homes. Behavior problems had been all but unknown in the orphanage in the past, in part because the young nuns who ran the place ruled with iron fists, and in part because the children, like Mercy, understood that they were better off in the orphanage than on the streets, and they were motivated to obey the rules. Just as the nuns who cared for them were aging and becoming less intimidating, the children who arrived were more likely to be rebellious and, occasionally, violent. Children acting out became a problem the sisters were at a loss to handle.

Mother managed to work a deal with another convent to transfer one of her sisters who was a reading teacher to their school, in exchange for taking in a sister who had experience handling children with behavioral problems. Her name was Sister Magdalene and she was only a few years older than Sister Mercy.

## Sister Magdalene

Like Sister Mercy, Sister Magdalene was the product of an orphanage, but the orphanage where she grew up was not the safe and peaceful place St. Mary's had been.

She was born Stella Maria Antonopoulas. Her only memory of her early childhood in what she thought of as her "original family" was of playing on the floor in a dingy kitchen filled with the mouth watering smell of some kind of spicy meat and listening to the sound of laughter. Something must have gone terribly wrong in the family, because her next memory was of the day her mother left her on the doorstep of the orphanage, with nothing but a note and the clothes on her back.

Much later, she learned that her mother had been the victim of repeated and vicious abuse by her husband. She had three little girls, whom she feared would become his victims as well. She managed to get up the courage to escape from her abusive husband and do the only thing she cold think of to protect her children: give them up.

But Stella didn't know all that at the time. All she knew was that her mother took her and her two little sisters to the door of a big, ugly, and very frightening building. She told Stella not to tell anyone their names or where they came from. Then she rang the doorbell, turned and walked away without saying goodbye or even looking back. Stella never saw or heard from her again. Stella, age five, was the oldest.

A few minutes later, a woman opened the door and asked Stella what she wanted. Stella said she didn't know, and handed the woman the note. She said her mother had left her and her sisters there and told them to mind the people. The woman sighed in a way that made Stella think the woman was irritated by the intrusion. She ushered the girls into a small parlor and asked when they had last eaten. Stella said they had not had breakfast. The woman told them to wait. She left them alone. One of her little sisters started to cry. Stella pulled Vicky on her lap and cuddled her, telling her not to cry. In a few minutes, the lady came back with some donuts and milk. The girls ate in silence while the woman watched them as if they were going to rise up and commit mayhem.

In a little while, a man came into the room. The woman took out a pad of paper and took notes. The man asked Stella their names and where they had come from. She obeyed her mother's instructions not to tell them her name or those of her sisters, not even their first names. That got her off to a bad start with the people who ran the orphanage. The man ranted and raved about the fact that he needed to verify they were really orphans and other things Stella didn't understand. She told him that she wasn't trying to be uncooperative. She added that she really did not know where they lived, so she wasn't holding out about that. She thought that would help him understand she was trying to be reasonable. The man said he thought she was being cheeky.

Then and there, he labeled Stella a troublemaker, and the label stuck. He asked the others their names, and the three-year old told him their first names. She couldn't say Antonopoulas, so all he got was the first names.

She was separated from her little sisters immediately after that interview because she was just old enough to be included with the general population, while the little girls were young enough for the nursery. For a while, Stella occasionally saw them on the playground. After a year, when no one came for them, they were put up for adoption. By then, Stella was a rebellious and difficult six-year old. The others were three and four-and-a-half, and beautiful – one with green eyes and red hair and the other with black eyes and long curly raven hair. First one disappeared and then the other. Like Sister Mercy, Stella was left alone in the orphanage, with her younger siblings being adopted off to unknown families. She was informed by the adults in charge that she would never see them again. Her sense of betrayal and abandonment was crushing.

The orphanage was a county home, run by civil service functionaries, most of whom, Stella believed, hated children – or at least hated their jobs caring for children. To make matters worse, when Stella started to school, they discovered that she had a severe learning disability (later diagnosed as dyslexia) that made it very difficult for her to learn to read. The teachers, who already had branded her as "trouble," assumed that she was either stupid or stubborn, probably both. Instead of providing additional help and tutoring, Stella was punished for her stubbornness and/or stupidity by being beaten, locked in closets and publicly humiliated in front of the other children. In later years, on the rare occasions she was persuaded to speak about her childhood, she described as something of a Dickensian nightmare of abuse, hunger, and loneliness.

Apparently somewhere along the line, the officials who ran the orphanage had discovered who Stella was because they knew her birthday, not that they ever told her or made use of the information to celebrate or acknowledge her birthday in any way (they didn't acknowledge any of the children's birthdays). She learned her birthday when, on the day she turned eighteen, the orphanage administrator called her into his office, gave her a five dollar bill and told her she had to leave because she was an adult. She was four months away from finishing the high school curriculum taught in the orphanage, although it was unlikely even with four more months she could have passed the GED test. She had received no preparation on what to expect or how to find a job or a place to live. They simply turned her out of the orphanage with the clothes on her back and five dollars in her pocket. After the door closed behind her, shutting off a retreat she didn't want to make anyway, she hesitated on the stoop, wondering where to go. After a minute or so, she walked away in the same direction her mother had gone thirteen years earlier.

That first day she wandered around aimlessly and lost. Eventually, she went into a fast food place that she had heard of and ordered a hamburger and soft drink. The orphanage had occasionally served hamburgers, and she liked them. She had never tasted soda. She thought it was vile and disgusting stuff and she couldn't believe people spent good money on it. The hamburger was greasy and tasteless. She ate the meal anyway because she knew she was not in the position to be picky or to waste precious money. After that, she adamantly refused to eat fast food from any chain for the rest of her life. An old homeless lady saw her wandering around, and invited her to spend the night with her. The temperature was plummeting, and the woman had a prime spot on top of a warm air vent from an apartment building. The vent was uncomfortable, but at least Stella was not freezing.

The next morning it started drizzling freezing rain, so she ducked into a nearby church. She had never been in a church before that she recalled. There was no one there, so she wandered around looking at the pictures in the windows and the statues that lined the walls. It was warm and smelled of lemon scented furniture polish. After a while she needed to use the restroom, so she explored more widely until she found the ladies room. She went to the bathroom, and took the opportunity to wash her face and brush her hair. When she came out of the bathroom she noticed a sign on the bulletin board, in sufficiently large and clear printing that she could actually read it, advertising for a cleaning lady in the church school. It directed applicants to the school office up the stairs. She went to the office and asked for the job saying she could start right away. After a perfunctory interview, Stella filled out an application. She filled in the orphanage address as her home address because it was the only actual address she knew, and hoped they wouldn't check her references.

She started to work that day. Institutional cleaning was something she knew how to do. The kids did all the cleaning in the orphanage. She could handle a large mop bucket and mop better than most people. Her shift was from 2:30 in the afternoon until 8:30 PM. She put in a full day, and then looked outside, realizing that there was about three inches of ice on the ground. She found a place in basement that looked like nobody went in very often, so she decided to sleep there. Then she went back into the building to try to find something to eat. She was afraid to take food from the refrigerator in the lunchroom for fear she'd be found out. She discovered that the scraps and scrapings from the children's plates were put in garbage bags and piled in a garbage can, but the leftover food from the stove that was not to be saved for future use was put in a different can. She ate from the garbage.

The next morning, when she heard the bells ringing for early Mass, she crept up the stairs and went out a side door. She saw a sign for the YWCA and went inside. She explained that she had a job but no place to live. They had rooms available but wanted a five dollar deposit. She only had thee dollars. She told them she'd likely come back after she got paid. She asked the lady if there was a mission or someplace where she could get some clothes. The lady told her there was a thrift store down the street. She went there and picked out a pair of jeans and a couple of sweat shirts. She asked the lady if they had underwear. The lady made a face and said they didn't. When it came time to pay, Stella pulled out her greasy three dollars. The clerk looked at her and at the money, and said, "Put your money back in your pocket." She called to someone in the back and said, "I'll be back in a little while."

She took Stella to her car and drove her to the suburbs. While they drove, the woman probed Stella's situation. Stella told her that she had a job and a safe place to sleep (as long as she didn't get caught). She planned to save her pay until she could afford to move to the Y. The woman thought that was a good plan. She suggested that Stella ask if the school would let her come in early to help clean up the lunch room before her shift, in exchange for lunch, so she wouldn't have to eat from the garbage. She gave Stella her phone number and told her to call if she needed help. Soon they arrived at a discount store where the woman bought Stella a pack of underwear, a couple of bras, a box of Kotex and some other toiletries. She threw in a backpack that would hold all her possessions.

By the time they were finished, lunch at the school would be over. The lady dropped Stella in front of the building and drove off. Stella had to lean against the wall and breathe deeply to avoid dissolving into hysterical crying. The experience of being treated not only with kindness but with generosity and concern was new to her – and overwhelming.

After she composed herself, she went to visit the head cook. She explained she was the new cleaning lady, and admitted that she was experiencing hard times. She asked if she could come before her shift and help clean up the kitchen in exchange for lunch. The cook, who was shorthanded and who always cooked more than the kids ate, agreed immediately. After a few days, she pulled Stella aside and said, "You do a good job here, honey. The sisters and even some of the kids have noticed. You work hard and you get off late. I doubt you feel like cooking when you're done. It won't be hot, but if you like, I'll leave you a dinner in the fridge with whatever I have when I finish cleaning up the leftovers from the sisters' supper."

Stella accepted the offer gratefully, because even though she was eating a regular lunch, she was hungry after working for eight hours and she had continued to eat dinner from the garbage.

After two weeks, she received her first paycheck. She netted $87. They paid her with a check. She told the secretary she didn't have a bank account and asked if she could be paid in cash. The secretary told her they weren't allowed to pay in cash, but she offered to take Stella to the bank so she could open an account. Stella opened her account with a deposit of $77. She kept $10 out for herself. She planned to check in at the Y.

After thinking about it, she decided things were working out okay for her sleeping at the school. She showered in the gym locker room while cleaning the showers. She ate in the lunchroom. It was warm, dry and cozy in the room near the boiler. She took a few dollars and bought another pack of underwear, a couple of tee shirts and a sweat suit she could use for pajamas. Then she went to the laundromat and washed her clothes.

She actually lived in the school for six months before the maintenance man found her sleeping in the furnace room. The principal of the school confronted her and Stella explained very honestly and candidly about her living arrangements. She said she would move to the Y immediately. The sister shook her head, "That isn't necessary right now, dear. Half my convent is empty. We have had an exodus of nuns. You can stay with us until we can find a more permanent arrangement. The school cook can hire her own helper. Perhaps you could do some light cleaning around the convent in exchange for your room and board, in our dining room.

That morning, Stella moved into the convent. She had a tiny room on the third floor. She spent her mornings cleaning and helping out around the convent. They fed her breakfast and lunch. In the afternoons, she cleaned at the school, and the principal instructed the cook to continue to leave her dinner in the fridge because she got off work long after the sisters finished their dinner.

The first weekend she was at the convent, on Saturday she did the morning chores: cleaning up the bathrooms, running the sweeper in the hall and generally straightening and dusting. Then she went to lunch. One of the sisters asked her what she did on her days off. She told them that for the past six months, she spent Saturdays at the library and Sundays she spent going from church to church until it got warm enough to spend Sundays in the park.

One of the sisters casually asked her what she liked to read. She said, "Well I can't say I like to read at all. That's the problem. Reading is really hard for me. I've been going to the library, reading kids books and trying to get better, but it doesn't seem to be working. I guess I am stupid."

The sister said, "Stella, I can't believe you are stupid. You speak well. You have unbelievable common sense and instincts. Would you mind taking some tests to see if we can figure out what your learning problem may be?"

Stella asked, "You mean there are tests to see if I'm retarded or not?"

The sister answered, "You are definitely not retarded. There are conditions called learning disabilities which, if we can figure out what they are, we can help you. Sort of like people who can't see well need glasses, people who have trouble learning just need extra help and special tools. I'll set something up for you."

Stella put her head down on the table and wept with gratitude for the gift that was being offered to her. There were few dry eyes in the room after a few minutes.

It turned out that Stella had several moderately severe learning disabilities, but she and the sisters were determined to surmount them. Stella wanted to get her GED. The sisters spent time tutoring her in the evenings. After six months of endless hours of intense tutoring from the nuns and studying far into the night, she signed up for her GED test and passed it on the first try. That resulted in a celebration dinner at the convent in her behalf.

A couple of weeks later the Sister Superior and Sister Margaret, who had taken on the role of her primary tutor, invited her to tea on a Sunday afternoon. They asked her how much money she had in the bank. She showed them her bank book. She had saved all but $10 - $20 every pay period. The only money she spent for herself was for personal toiletries, which was minimal because she did not wear makeup. She ate all her meals at the convent. She bought her outer wear at the thrift store and her underwear at Woolworth's. The nuns shook their heads. Sister Superior commented, "You'd make a great nun, dear. Lord knows, your needs are simple enough."

She went on to completely blow Stella away with a proposal that corresponded with a fantasy Stella had held in her heart, but thought was a total pipe dream. The sisters suggested she go to college. They told her they had contacted the admissions office at Ohio State. They thought she would qualify for student aid and a work study program. They offered to let her continue to live at the convent in exchange for doing work around the convent, but they thought she might want to consider giving up the full-time cleaning job. They handed her an appointment card, showing that she had an appointment with the admissions officer in the morning.

Sister concluded by saying, "You'll need to take your GED certificate, your birth certificate (which I have obtained from the orphanage), your bank book , and this." She handed Stella a creamy envelope containing a letter of recommendation. Stella managed to avoid weeping by chewing on the inside of her cheek until it bled.

The next day she met with the admissions officer who helped her fill out the forms for student aid and set her up for a work study program. He arranged for her to meet with a senior professor in the education department who would serve as her academic adviser regarding a course of study. The woman asked her what she wanted to do for a career. Stella sat dumb for a while, she responded, "I never once thought about a career. First, I had to focus on surviving. Then, I had to focus on getting my GED. I have never given any thought to my future."

The woman smiled and said, "Then let's think about that now! If you could do anything, what would it be?"

Stella thought for a little while and said, "Before I answer, I want to ask you a question: these learning disabilities I have, do a lot of children have them?"

The woman nodded, "It appears a certain percentage of the population has some kind of learning disability. Yes."

"Are there special classes for that?"

"You mean for the kids with learning disabilities? Yes, there are but not all schools offer them."

"Why?"

"In part because it costs a lot to offer a special ed program. And in part because there are not enough special ed teachers."

Stella laughed, "Well, I guess that answers your first question."

"It does?"

"Yes, ma'am. You see, I've been living in a convent for the last six months, and even before that I was living in the basement of the church and the only people I was around were nuns and teachers. I'm not Catholic, but I've picked up a few things from them. One of those things is that blessings are supposed to be shared. I have been blessed by the help and support of an entire convent full of women who've been helping me, pushing me and kicking my butt for the last six months. Now, they've offered to continue that for another four years so I can graduate from college." She choked up at the very thought, paused, cleared her throat and continued, "I guess if there are other children out there who have as hard a time learning as I do, then it's kinda my obligation to do what I can to help. Dontcha think?"

The professor smiled and turned away for a minute while she blinked away tears of joy at the birth of what she knew would be a magnificent teacher. She nodded, "I think that is an excellent idea. It will have the advantage of not only teaching you techniques to help others with learning disabilities, but it will teach you techniques you can use yourself."

Stella clapped her hands together and grinned, "When do I start?"

"You've filled out the enrollment papers for the financial aid, already." She pulled a book out of a drawer and took a form from a stack on her desk, "Now, let's go through the catalog and pick out your classes."

Stella spent so much time with the woman, she realized she was going to be late to work. She asked if she could use the phone to call the principal. Stella explained that she would be a little late because she was at the Ohio State campus enrolling for college. The principal was so delighted to hear that, she told Stella to take the day off and spend the afternoon exploring the campus.

When she hung up, she asked Dr. Stephenson if she had a map of the campus. The woman laughed, "I'll do you better. I have a class in 45 minutes and I want to stretch my legs first. How would you like a guided tour by yours truly. If you'd care to sit in on my class, I'll introduce you to some of the other professors in the education department afterward."

Stella was very freaked out by the size and confusion of the campus. One of her disabilities had to do with spacial orientation, and maps were almost useless to her. In four years of undergrad and several more doing graduate work she never stopped getting lost on campus. Nevertheless, she always saw her college years as the happiest of her life. As her work-study job, she worked as a cleaning lady in the library. She loved the sense of being in some small way responsible for caring for the collection of knowledge contained in the millions of books in the library.

She loved most of her classes, but especially her pedagogy classes. When they talked about learning disabilities, they were talking about her. She was surrounded by people who cared about people like her! She could feel her damaged soul healing.

In the evenings and for hours upon hours on the weekends, she sat in the library at the convent and studied. The sisters helped her. Her professors gave her extra help when necessary. In four years, to her amazement Stella obtained a B. S. in education, with honors.

One of the sisters in the convent who was a teacher told her that the school associated with the cathedral was looking for a special education teacher. Stella applied for the job and was hired immediately, upon the recommendation of every resident teacher in the convent where she had lived for nearly five years. The principal of the cathedral school introduced her to a couple of the young lay teachers who shared an apartment. They invited Stella to room with them.

Stella became the very best kind of special education teacher: the kind who totally understands the students' problems from personal experience. She loved every minute of the time she spent at her job. She was not so crazy about living with a couple of recently-graduated girls whose main goals in life seemed to be to party as much as possible and find a husband. The total extent of Stella's partying up to that point was the single glass of wine that Sister Superior allowed at dinner for special occasions, such as the Bishop's visit or Christmas dinner. She was polite enough to drink at least a few sips, but didn't like it much.

Stella had never been on a date, and had never really thought about dating. Getting married was not something that she had ever even considered to be an option for herself. Her room mates thought she was strange and weird. She knew very soon after moving into the apartment that her housing arrangements would not last long. She soon moved into the Y, where she had her own room, and could come and go as she pleased, provided she was in by curfew. It was cheap and safe. She actually liked it there. It was sort of like the convent only without the wonderful food and the music the nuns often played in the Chapter hall.

The school days began with morning Mass. Stella had never really participated in the religious life of the convent where she had lived, and the sisters had never pressed the issue. Stella was always too busy studying or working to go to church. Going to Mass was a new experience for her, and one she liked very much. Keeping her hyperactive and difficult students in line was a challenge, but she liked the music and the predictable flow of the liturgy. It bothered her that she was not able to fully participate by receiving Communion with her students.

Once she got acclimated to her job and her living arrangements, she made an appointment with the dean of the cathedral and requested to take instructions in the faith. While teaching reading in the daytime, she studied her catechism at night. A few months later she was baptized by the bishop and received her first Holy Communion during the Easter Vigil service on Holy Saturday.

The following week she contacted the Superior of the convent where she had lived when she was in college. She explained to the nun that she had joined the Church and was earning a good living as a teacher. Then she burst into tears and begged the Superior to let her join the convent and to come "home" to live, offering, as an inducement, to turn over her entire salary to the convent in exchange for a place in the community. The nun agreed to discuss it in the Chapter and to meet with Stella in a few weeks.

They did not admit her as a postulant immediately because they wanted to make sure she was coming to the community freely and with an open heart, not simply because she was afraid to be on her own. During the discernment process she visited the convent often and met with the Mother Superior regularly. She met with a couple of priests who asked her a lot of embarrassing questions, but she answered firmly and honestly. The convent was her home and she wanted to live there, in the bosom of the Community she loved.

Eventually, she convinced them she had a vocation, and they admitted her to the order. She was given the name Sister Magdalene. She immediately shortened that to Maggie. She continued to teach special ed at the cathedral, while living in her home convent. She was the darling of the sisters, many of whom took a very maternal attitude towards her. After a youth filled with loneliness and abuse and a frightening and uncertain start to her adulthood, Sister Maggie had found both a purpose and a home. She radiated utter joy both at work and in doing her her duties at the convent.

The Mother Superior thought that the way the older nuns doted on Sister Maggie – to the point of spoiling her – was somewhat unhealthy, and she made every effort to make sure Maggie did not benefit from too many special favors.

She had also always been uncomfortable with Sister Maggie's bluntness and honesty. Something in Mother's heart always believed that there was something to the "troublemaker" moniker that had followed Maggie from childhood. Mother tried repeatedly to transfer Sister Maggie to other convents, including the convent at the cathedral school. Somehow those efforts never panned out, but she had not given up hope.

When she heard through the grapevine that Mother Anne at St. Mary's orphanage was casting about for someone with special education skills, she reached out to her and offered Sister Maggie – in exchange for another sister who worked for an income. The only other sister St. Mary's had available for transfer was a woman who taught religion at a girls academy near Sister Maggie's home convent. The problem for Mother Anne was that the other woman (who was older and had decades more experience) was the highest paid of any of her sisters who worked out. The transaction would inure to the financial detriment of St. Mary's .

Mother Anne ultimately agreed to the deal, however, when yet one more hyperactive child arrived on her doorstep whom no one in the convent could control. She needed help, even if it was going to cost her money.

Sister Maggie's arrival at St. Mary's was both a blessing and a curse. It was a curse in that the convent lost the income of the sister who transferred away, a financial hit they could ill afford given the numbers of elderly and sick nuns they had to care for. It was a blessing in that Maggie immediately took over virtually all responsibility for running the orphanage operations. Mother Anne, who was by then nearly 75, needed the help.

With Maggie running the orphanage and Mercy running the kitchen (and handling a number of other administrative duties for the convent as well), Mother Anne (who was nurse by training) was able to focus more on taking care of her elderly nuns.

Within only a few weeks, Maggie and Mercy became colleagues, partners and best friends. (They played that friendship cool in the convent because "special friendships" had always been frowned on in every convent and monastery in the Catholic Church since the advent of monasticism.) That they worked as such a wonderful team allowed Mother Anne to interpret their closeness as good teamwork, at least enough enough to get past Father Ted and her Departmental Director in the Order.

Before long Mother Anne came to depend heavily on the two younger nuns. Mother was responsible for the spiritual well being and the nursing care of the sisters (especially the old and sick ones), Mercy made sure the bills were paid and food was on the table, and Maggie ran the orphanage (which generated income from the state).

Money had been a problem even before Maggie arrived. The loss of income that accompanied Maggie's arrival along with the retirement of yet another sister who had worked out precipitated a crisis that grew progressively severe as time went on. Virtually all the sisters who had "worked out" were retired, and many of them were afflicted with medical problems. Only a few of the retired sisters received pensions from their jobs. The Order previously provided medical insurance, but it discontinued that for financial reasons. A few of the older nuns collected meager Social Security stipends and were eligible for Medicare and/or Medicaid, but that did not make up for the wages lost when sisters retired from working.

To make a bad situation worse, within a few months of Sister Maggie's arrival, Mother Anne was stricken with a series of illnesses, one after the other. The other sisters, led by Mercy and Maggie, filled in and kept things going. Soon, however, the Departmental Director of the Order insisted that Mother Anne turn over the mantel of leadership.

The Chapter was given the opportunity to elect one of its own rather than have a stranger sent in from outside. There were few candidates. Most of the sisters were as old or older than the retiring Superior. Sister Lucille was perhaps the most likely candidate: she was only fifty and she had been a model sister for more than thirty years. Lucille had replaced Antonia as the music director and worship leader. In the role of convent liturgist she had found her niche. Administration was not something she thought she could do, nor was it something she wanted to try. She said she did not think she would be able to chair meetings or handle the external contacts that were necessary to run the convent. As much as she was the right age and had the right years of experience, the rest of the Sisters in the Chapter knew it to be true. Sister Lucille was steady, competent and reliable. She was also painfully shy in a group. She was fine with people one on one, but she froze in a group – even such a small and close group as the Chapter. They respected her wishes and passed her over.

The second most logical candidate was Sister Perpetua. She was 62 and had recently retired from a job as the head nurse in a hospital. She had decades of administrative experience, which gave her the right kind of experience. The problem was there was not one sister in the entire convent who really liked her. She was not mean nor did she create drama. She simply held herself apart from the others. As a surgical nurse and hospital administrator, she had held herself somewhat aloof, as though she felt a bit superior to the others. What is more, as a senior member of the hospital staff, she brought in more money than any of the other nuns who worked outside the convent. She acted as though that should give her some extra clout (at least with the former Mother Superior), but she threw her weight around a bit too much for the liking of the others.

Mercy, who was oblivious to the interpersonal aspects of the Chapter because she spent so little time with the other sisters, thought Sister Perpetua was the best choice because of her medical background and the fact that she would essentially be running an old age home for nuns. The other sisters had a different idea.

When the Chapter met to discuss the question, Sister Helen, who was by then a shriveled scarecrow of a woman and almost blind, said, "I think Sister Mercy should be our next Superior."

A wave of affirmation went around the room, and stopped with Sister Mercy herself, who held up her hands, "Good Lord, no! I'm only 30. I am far too young. I'm happy runnin' the kitchen and helpin' out with the administrative work around the convent, but I'm not cut out for leadership. I can't talk good enough English to deal with the Bishop and the Order's District big shots. I think we should elect Sister Perpetua."

The discussion went around and around. The sisters were not in the habit of making decisions that contradicted Mercy's wishes. But, they all knew they had the authority to vote her in as the Superior, even if she objected. The Rule of Obedience would require her to serve if elected. The question was whether or not they were willing to draft her into a job they knew she didn't want.

Mother Anne's wisdom and experience saved the day. She said, "I think Sister Mercy is effectively the acting Sister Superior of this convent. Despite what she may believe about her lack of skills, all of us, myself included, look to her for leadership. She manages the kitchen superbly and essentially runs the convent already, at least from an operational standpoint. I believe her reluctance to accept the position has to do with her devotion to her work in the kitchen. If we can find a way to allow her to continue as the head cook while assuming more administrative duties, then she might be willing to serve as Superior of this community."

Sister Maggie spoke, "I hesitate to speak because I have only been here a few years, but I have a suggestion. Let's divide up duties kind of like a business would do. Sister Mercy can be the Sister Superior who will chair the Chapter meetings and act as our chief executive; she can retain direct responsibility for the kitchen. Sister Lucille is already the worship leader. I'm already the administrator of the orphanage. We can have a medical person, such as Sister Perpetua or even Mother Anne if she feels up to it. Sister Ramona was a business teacher, maybe she could be our bookkeeper and secretary. We could set up departments, each with its own manager."

Mother Anne grinned, "That's a great idea! Each of the managers would be responsible for specific tasks. That would divide the labor more equitably and according to the talents of our various sisters. The Chapter itself will operate as a kind of Board of Directors."

Sister Lucille laughed, "Yeah, and Sister Mercy can be 'Chairman of the Board'."

Somebody quipped, "I thought that was Frank Sinatra."

Everybody laughed – except Sister Mercy who was sitting rock still, staring at her hands, looking like a criminal at the bar who is about to be handed a death sentence. They voted unanimously to elect Mercy to be the Sister Superior. Her first assignment was to establish departments and department heads. Some of the older nuns were unhappy over the idea of running a convent like a business until Mother Anne said, "I have to tell you ladies, I've been Superior in this convent for twenty years, and it absolutely is a matter of running a business. In today's increasingly complex world, one person is hard pressed to run an operation like this all by herself. I think this is the perfect solution."

Mercy murmured more to herself than to anyone, "First we gotta set up a system to run the operation the way it is. Then we gotta figger out how to bring in some money."

One of the oldest nuns scoffed at that, "How do you propose we bring in money?"

Mercy made a face, "I don't know. That's why we have to figger it out. I suggest everybody think about it, a lot. Pray about it while you're at it. 'Cause I think we may need a small (or a maybe not so small) miracle."

Mercy looked around the room and said, "The last time I was this scairt, I was huddled in the back of that lady's garage with my brothers after stealin' food from her refrigerator. She opened the door and I was sure she was gonna call the law on us."

The sisters laughed – all except for Maggie and Mercy, both of whom were fighting back tears.

## Mother Mercy

Mother Mercy continued to do the lion's share of the cooking, but she increasingly relied on the teenagers who served as her apprentices. She discovered that the more responsibility she gave them, the better they behaved. She also discovered that some of them showed real skill in the kitchen. She started a Kitchen Committee of orphanage residents and a couple of nuns who were responsible for deciding on menus. She taught them to calculate the cost of meals against their budget. Both the kids and the sisters were amazed at how well Mercy had been able to feed them on so little money. Money was tighter than ever, and, of necessity, the meals became simple to the point of Spartan.

Mercy established a senior leadership committee consisting of Sister Maggie (Orphanage Manager), Sister Lucille (Liturgy and Music), Sister Perpetua (Convent Operations Manager), Sister Ramona (Secretary and Comptroller) and the former Mother Superior, now Sister Anne, as a sort of ombudsman and advocate for the old and sick nuns. They divided up tasks among the able bodied, both nuns and children. The convent/orphanage had always been well run. Now it hummed along beautifully at least in its day to day operations.

The fact that the building had serious maintenance needs that they could not afford to fix weighed heavily on all of them.

The first big hurdle came when both Sister Helen and Sister Antonia had to go to the hospital. Sister Helen had cancer which required a series of chemotherapy. Sister Antonia required gall-bladder surgery. The hospital bills were going to run into the tens of thousands of dollars. Mother Mercy reached out to the Order, pleading for help. The Departmental Superior told Mercy that the Order was unable to provide any assistance, "Your convent is better off than most. You have 40% of your sisters who are young enough to hold jobs outside the convent. The Order over all is 85% over the age of 65."

"We have an orphanage to run. Sister Maggie and I are the two youngest. She runs the orphanage. I'm the cook."

"In the immediate situation, I think you should consider Medicaid. We recently learned that all the sisters in our Order are eligible for Medicaid."

Sister Mercy made a huffing noise, "I guess the Order sort of takes that vow of poverty literally, don't it?"

"Exactly what does that mean?"

"It means that I think the Order owes its sisters more than to work them like galley slaves their whole lives and then put them on the Dole when they're old and sick and helpless."

"We are poor servants of our Lord Jesus who never had a home or medical insurance. Why should we expect more than he had?"

Sister Mercy said softly, "Maybe we shouldn't expect it, but our elderly sisters sure as hell deserve it and I mean to do what I can to do something about making their old age as pleasant as possible. Besides, Our Lord's final instructions were for his followers to 'tend the sheep and feed the lambs'. I see it as my responsibility to do right by my sheep and my lambs. And I don't see putting my sisters on welfare as an acceptable way to go about that."

After she got off the phone, she paced the floor in her office for a while. Then she went to the kitchen and whipped up a half dozen loaves of bread. She set them to rise and instructed one of the gang known as the KPK (Kitchen Patrol Kids) to bake the bread when it had proofed. She said she'd be back later, but possibly not in time for dinner. She stuck her head in Maggie's office and said, "I'm going out for a while. You're in charge."

Maggie looked up and said, "Oh, goodie, I'll break out the Scotch and call for some male strippers."

Sister Mercy didn't bat an eye, she simply responded, "Well, have fun and make sure there's no evidence of all that when I get back, or you're toast."

She walked to the corner and waited at the bus stop for a very long time. Eventually the cross-town bus came. After a long ride and two transfers, she arrived at the diocesan nursing home for priests. She signed in at the desk and went up the elevator to Father Ted's room. She had a new Confessor who was a very nice man. They got along well enough. He didn't hassle her too much. She didn't pull his chain too much. But, when Mercy needed real counseling of any kind, she still went to Father Ted, who had suffered two heart attacks and lived in the nursing home.

He greeted her warmly. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. As she did so, she dropped a packet of cookies into his hand, whispering, "Try these. I've been experimenting with low fat, heart-healthy ingredients that are cheap. These oatmeal cookies are made with apple sauce instead of fat. They're sweetened with saccharine and dried fruit."

He made a face, "Sounds delish."

"Try them before you draw too many conclusions. You know I wouldn't bring them for you if I didn't think you'd like them."

He looked over her shoulder and said, "Damned Gestapo around here ..." He tasted the cookie and nodded, "Not too bad. Maybe not as good as a traditional oatmeal cookie with butter and brown sugar. But, I won't keel over and die after eating it so you won't have to feel guilty about sneaking it in to me."

"Good. You behave and I'll still sneak you some fudge at Christmas, if I can afford to make any."

He sighed, "Money's tight all over, eh?"

"I'm sure you have the same problems here."

"Yup. They just took away all our private medical insurance and put us all on welfare."

"You mean Medicaid?"

"Whatever you call it, it's welfare. I'm honestly considering moving to the VA hospital. While I realize the VA is kind of a handout, too, I consider it more of a compensation for services rendered."

"You're a veteran?"

"Yes. I served in Korea."

"Geez! You learn something new every day!" She patted his hand affectionately, and went on, "That's why I'm here. I talked to our Departmental Director about the fact that I've got two sisters in the hospital now. One had a mastectomy and now needs chemo and the other needs surgery. I went to the Order for help. They told me to put them on Medicaid and they said Maggie and I should get a jobs."

"You and Sister Magdalene have jobs."

"Don't I know it! Sister Maggie runs the orphanage and keeps all our damaged kiddies under control – without resorting to medication, I might add! I could never let her work outside. I may have read all kinds of text books, but you know I never set foot in an actual school and I don't even have a GED. What kind of job am I gonna get? I got kiddies to feed and old nuns to take care of, and I got old buildings falling apart around my ears. I don't know what to do!"

She paused, wrung her hands in her lap and chewed on her lower lip, "I figger we got two choices: we can close the orphanage and sell the property. That might bring in enough money to put all the old nuns in a nursing home. Maggie, Lucille and I could live in an apartment. Maggie and Lucille could teach. I could get a job in a bakery or a restaurant.

"The other option is to bring in some money -- a lot of money – PDQ."

Father Ted laughed and said dryly, "Why do I have the feeling that, despite the reasonableness of the first option, you'd prefer the latter?"

She laughed and said, "Because I do."

He deadpanned, "Hence the problem."

"Right."

"So what are you doing here?"

"You know people. I want to know the names of the richest people in the diocese."

"For what purpose?"'

"I'm going to go begging."

"You can't be serious!"

"Father, I've never been more serious. I intend to call personally on every rich person I can get in to see, and I'm going to beg. There was a time in my life I'd of been contemplating stealin', but right now I need more money than I know how to steal. I am responsible for the lives of eleven sisters and twenty kids. Our endowment has taken a beating in the stock market. I need an infusion of cash, and I need it quick.

"The Order isn't going to help me. Despite the fact that most of our retired nuns worked in diocesan schools and hospitals, the diocese refuses to help us – the bastards!

"I figgered out that's why they hire nuns from various orders. They can get away with paying them peanuts while they're in their teaching years and then when they retire, they're not the diocese's problem to take care of. Obviously the Church in Rome isn't going to help because they like to keep their money over there.

"When I complained about that to my Departmental Director, all she could say was that, as Franciscans, we're supposed to be poor."

He tried not to laugh, "What did you say to that?"

She grinned, "I did not use the word 'bullshit' if that's what you're asking."

"You used words to that effect."

"Pretty much." She winked and gave him a lopsided grin. The she held out her hands in a begging gesture, "So. Who should I talk to?"

He shook his head, "Mercy, I don't know. I spent my youth as a military chaplain. When I came back here, I worked mostly as a Confessor to nuns and a counselor to priests who were experiencing personal issues. I never was plugged in to the movers and the shakers in the diocese."

"Do you know anyone who is?"

"The former bishop is right down the hall."

She laughed, "You got a bishop here in the old priests home?"

"Watch it with that 'old priest' crap, gal!" He made a face, "Actually, he's one of the few 'good bishops' I've ever heard of who really walked the walk. Poor bastard is so crippled up with rheumatoid arthritis he can barely get around." He motioned her to be quiet, "But, before you ask: his mind is perfectly clear."

"You gonna introduce me or am I going to walk in there cold?"

"Let me talk to him first. Can you come back next week?"

"No. I want to talk to him now."

He sighed, "Okay, let's go down the hall."

She helped Father out of bed and into a wheel chair. Then she pushed him down the hall. They paused at a door and Father Ted knocked. A soft voice invited them in.

Father pushed open the door with his foot and Mercy guided the wheelchair into a large corner room streaming with sunshine. An ancient and wizened man sat in a wing back chair by a window. He wore a black cassock with a purple stole that had gold embroidery. The sunshine streamed over him, reflecting off the stole, making him positively glow. When Mercy recalled that moment later, she thought that perhaps the luminosity may have come from inside him.

Father Ted introduced Mercy and explained why she was there. The bishop listened to her plea, and then fired off a series of questions about the costs of repairs at the convent and the estimated endowment that would be necessary to fund the care for the old nuns. Mercy was unable to answer most of the questions. In a little while the bishop lapsed into silence. Father Ted and Mercy waited politely.

Eventually the bishop said, "I think you aren't ready to go to the rich donors yet. They'll want to know exactly what your needs are. You need to do a line by line budget for your short term needs and your long terms needs. Rank things in three priorities: Urgent/Immediate necessity; Long-term necessity; Would be good to have.

"You've made a very good start by reorganizing your operation along a business model. That will play well with potential donors. I wish more convents were blessed with practical nuns who are willing to try new ways of operating. Be warned that you and your staff will have what we will politely call 'animated discussions' as to which line items fall into which category. You have to be ruthless at that stage. You need to end up with only what you truly have to have right now on your urgent list. You must start this process immediately and try to have it finished absolutely as soon as possible.

"The second thing you need to do is to talk to a lawyer to make sure all your sisters are signed up for all the federal and state benefits to which they are eligible. There may also be some grant money available from non-profits. I have a person in mind. I will make sure she's still in business and have her call you or at least refer you to another attorney. Those preliminary conversations may cost you several thousand dollars. Take it out of the principal your endowment if you have to. It will be money well spent.

"The third thing you need to do is talk to someone who can help with fund-raising. Your instinct to beg is right on, and so very Franciscan," he grinned and winked at her, "but, this is not 16th Century Italy. This is late 20th Century America. Fund-raising is an industry here. I am going to reach out to a woman I know who certainly would be able to help you if she is willing. She's a relatively recent widow, and I don't know if she's totally back in the swing of her former whirl of charity work. If she is willing, she would be the perfect person to help you. She's a devoted Catholic. She's filthy rich, so she may be able to provide the immediate cash infusion you need desperately. More importantly, she knows all the rich people in Columbus and she can raise money like nobody I've ever seen."

Mercy put her hands over her face and tried to calm herself. The bishop reached forward and patted the elbow sticking out toward him. "I know this seems overwhelming, but it is the way things are done. How long have you been in the convent?"

Mercy thought about it, "I come to the orphanage when I was sixteen, and started workin' in the kitchen the day I got there. When I turned eighteen they was going to make me leave, but I talked Mother inta lettin' me move into the convent as a postulant. That was seventeen years ago."

"You're awfully young for a Sister Superior."

Mercy made a face, "Believe me, I didn't want the job. I like stayin' in the kitchen, doin' what I do best: bakin' bread and whippin' up meals for the kiddies and the sisters. The sisters drafted me to be the Superior. I'm the last person in this world who should be runnin' an operation like that. I am a cook, for Pete's sake, and I have no education. But, they asked me to do it, and I'm gonna do my best. The problem is, if my best ain't good enough there's twenty orphans and eleven sisters who will go hungry or without heat this winter." She sat up straight and looked the old man directly in the eye, "I may be a very odd person to be doin' this kinda work, but I'm determined to get the job done. Lives of some people I love a lot literally depend on it."

The bishop smiled at her and said, "Are you familiar with the biblical theme about God using the least likely person to achieve his purposes?"

Mercy smiled and said, "Yes, sir, I am. If that's what this amounts to, I'm just hopin' God's prepared to back up that decision with a lotta help, not to mention an all out miracle or two."

The bishop threw back his head and laughed out loud. Ted turned away so Mercy could not see his tears.

She gave the bishop her telephone number and then looked at the clock. "Oh, my, I have to be going or I'll miss the last bus. I don't think I can walk home from here."

The bishop raised his hand. "How many buses did it take for you to get here?"

"I had to change buses twice. This ain't a good town for public transportation."

The bishop got up and walked slowly to his bureau. Mercy thought he looked like a king or emperor; he had that kind of dignity. He took a wallet from the top drawer and handed her a $20 bill, saying, "I'll have the desk call for a taxi."

"Eminence, you don't have to do that. I got time to catch the bus."

He turned and smiled, "I know I don't have to do it, but I want to. It's been a long time since someone came to me for help. I feel needed for the first time in a while." He grinned, "You made my day."

Father Ted knew they were being dismissed. He asked, "May we have your blessing."

The bishop shrugged and murmured, "Not that either of you really need my blessing..." He made the Sign of the Cross and blessed them. Mercy pushed Father's wheelchair back to his room and helped him get into bed. She all but skipped down the hall to the elevator. A taxi was waiting for her when she arrived at the front desk.

The driver was leaning against the front fender. He opened the door and let her in the back seat, then got behind the wheel, "Where to, Sister?"

She gave him the address. Then she sat back to watch the city go by. The last time she had been in a regular car was nineteen years ago when the lady had brought her and her brother to the orphanage. After that, on the rare occasions she had left the convent, it had been by bus or, on several occasions, in an ambulance when she accompanied sick or injured nuns or children to the hospital.

Soon, she lost interest in the ugly buildings that whizzed by, and before she got half way to the convent, she was crunching budget numbers in her head. The more she thought about it, the more daunting the task seemed to be.

She arrived home just in time for dinner. Pausing in the door of the orphanage dining hall she looked around the room. She knew the name and personal history of every child. Each of them had come to the orphanage as a result of some tragic event. Most of them had learned (or were learning) to feel safe in her care, for the first time in their lives. She could not – would not! – let them down.

The dining room proctor was reading to the children from the book Treasure Island. She looked up with a question in her eyes. Mother Mercy shook her head and withdrew from the doorway. She would not interrupt their story.

Next she passed through the kitchen. One crew of the KP Kids team was washing pots and pans while another was cleaning the stove. They would be finished with those tasks by the time the dirty plates arrived from the dining room. One crew would wash the dishes while the other did preliminary preparations for breakfast. The children themselves would clean the dining room before they went to bed. The place ran itself like clockwork. Day in and day out. The system worked beautifully. But it required more money than they had to keep it going.

She grabbed a cold biscuit from a plate on the stove, smeared it with some jam and ate it on the way to the chapel. Evensong had already begun when she arrived. She slid into her favorite pew, in the shadows of the back row. Only eight nuns were in the choir. Two were in the hospital and the other one was a bed-ridden invalid. One of the eight in attendance was in a wheelchair. Mercy knew the intimate details of the medical problems of each one. Even Lucille had just been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, which was likely to limit her ability to take care of the altar linens, candles. She wondered if Lucille would still be able to play the organ. The only two totally healthy and able-bodied nuns were Mercy and Sister Magdalene. She knew that if she didn't get some help soon, she and Maggie would break under the strain.

The next morning, she called a meeting of the departmental managers. She told them about her meeting with the former bishop and explained what he told her to do. Sister Perpetua interrupted, "Why didn't you go to the current bishop? He's the one with his hands on the money now. Bishop Bosworth is old and has been out of the inner circle for a long time."

Mercy made a face and glanced at Sister Anne, who answered the question, "I personally visited the last two active bishops. Actually, I called on Bishop Bosworth when he was still the active bishop. Their story was always the same. The local diocese does not interfere with the operations of religious Orders. I think Mother did a brilliant thing by going to the former bishop. He can put her in touch with potential donors, which he could not have done before he retired, when that would have diverted donations from his kitty."

Maggie chuckled, "Besides, this gives him the opportunity to stick it in Elkins' ear."

Mercy looked confused, "What?"

Maggie said, "Remember, I worked at the cathedral school before I came here. A number of the sisters worked in the diocesan offices. The political stuff that goes on there would curl your hair. Anyway, Bosworth was known as a kind of liberal. He supported Pope John's call for Vatican II, and he even got himself appointed to a delegation that accompanied the American Cardinals to the Council. He returned from Rome all fired up to make the changes that would bring the Church up to date. Elkins was at that time the pastor at Prince of Peace church in Mansfield. That was a big church that had a lot of clout in the diocese. Elkins is a conservative. Sort of an ultra-Montanist to be honest. Anyway, he was squarely in the camp of the Neanderthals who had set out to dismantle everything that Pope John had accomplished.

"When Bosworth's arthritis got so bad he couldn't stand it any longer, he retired. Elkins mounted a vicious campaign for the job. Bosworth's people fended him off as long as possible, but by then Pope John was dead and Pope Paul was firmly in control, going around trying to close all the doors and windows that Giovanni opened. The time was ripe for Elkins. Bosworth's been locked up in the home ever since. You may not have done it intentionally, Mother, but you found the right guy to champion your cause."

Mercy looked at her in astonishment, "How'd you know all that?"

"I told you. I used to listen to diocesan gossip every night at dinner. I happen to have a couple of friends who still live in that convent. I talk to them on the phone occasionally. I have been aware since my arrival that nobody else in this convent pays attention to Church politics. That's taking a huge risk in an organization like the Catholic Church. I've sort of taken it upon myself to keep tabs on the politics so I would know which way the wind is blowing. I thought someday we might need that intelligence."

Sister Anne reached out and squeezed her hand, "Thank you, dear. I commend you. Nobody else here has the stomach for that, but I agree with you, somebody needs to do it."

Mercy shook her head to clear her mind and refocus, "Okay, so in addition to all her other duties, Sister Maggie will serve as our political spy or whatever you want to call it. Thank you, dear. I beg you: please don't tell me anything I don't absolutely HAVE to know." They all laughed.

Mother went on, "Okay, the next order of business is to go over our budget line by line. I've printed out copies of the current budget that I have to give the state on the orphanage. I made up a budget for the convent operations as well, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. I want each of you to look at your areas of operations. Add line items and change these numbers to match what you actually need. Don't forget to note those things you absolutely have to have right now."

She looked around, "Who knows anything about the maintenance of the building?"

Nobody spoke up. Sister Anne said, somewhat sheepishly, "The answer is that I should, but I don't. I knew how to run the operations of the orphanage and the convent. I arranged for repairs on the building when things broke. We have service contracts for the boiler and the kitchen stove. Beyond that, I never had the time, energy or money to look at actual maintenance of the buildings."

Sister Lucille said, "We've got some leaks in the chapel that need to be addressed. There are some floor boards that feel as though there may be problems underneath."

Sister Maggie said, "We have plumbing issues in the orphanage bathrooms. Frankly, I think we have plumbing issues in the convent, too."

Mother said, "While we're being honest, this place is a damned fire trap. When was the last time the fire marshal came out here to inspect?"

Sister Ann shrugged and put up her eyebrows. Mother continued, "Well put that on your list of things to be thankful for. The fire escapes are rusted and we've got bed-ridden nuns living on upper floors. I'm almost sure there's probably laws against that, but even if there ain't, it's putting our people in danger. I won't have it!"

She sighed and closed her eyes. "First things first, let's get to work on that budget. I want one for this year and one for what we'll need over the next five years. Got it?"

They all nodded. Mother waved them away. Then she said, "Sister Lucille, could I talk to you for a minute?"

Sister Lucille remained seated. Mother waited until the others were gone and the door was closed. She turned to the older woman and said, "You did the orientation that brought me into the convent. You and Father Ted taught me religion and tried your best to turn me into a proper Christian. I give you credit for your efforts, anyway. You both also – I think against the wishes of Mother – gave me books to read that opened my eyes to a lotta things. Sister Helen taught me to plan meals against a budget. All along the way, I learned what I needed to know when I needed to know it. Now, I need to learn somethin' else. Urgently."

"What is that?"

"Well, today I heard myself talkin' to the bishop. I'm a cook. I never been to school and don't even have a G.E.D. You know and I know I'm pretty smart. I can read all kinds of stuff, theology, history, science and – my favorites – geography and anthropology. I can read church Latin and French cookbooks. I have good people skills: I know who I can trust and who I can't. I know when people are lying to me. I got a lotta good skills that I have used to the benefit of this operation. Now, I gotta go out there and talk to rich people, beggin' for money. I need to learn to talk better."

Sister Lucille thought about that for a while before she spoke and said, "I understand your desire to learn to speak more grammatically in public with potential donors. I'm willing to help if you want me to. You know I was an English teacher and" she smiled a bit sheepishly, "I have to tell you it grates on me when you say 'ain't'. However, before we go off and turn you into Barbara Jordan, we need to consider the fact that your homespun speaking style may actually work to your ...."

"Who's Barbara Jordan?"

Sister looked at her with amazement, "She was the Texas Representative on the House Investigation Committee during Watergate. Possibly the most amazing female speaker I've ever heard."

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

"Don't you read the papers? Mother even let us watch the news during Watergate."

"Don't forget, I worked in the kitchen from 5 a. m. until 8:00 p. m. No, I never have watched the TV news in my life except that time they landed on the moon and you dragged me outta bed. I don't read the papers. I read books."

Sister Lucille sighed, "Then Mother, don't worry about the way you talk but you'd better start reading the newspapers now. Your books tell you about history and geography and culture. What you need to know now is the current poop on the world you're living in right now. I am almost certain you won't like it. In fact, you're going to positively hate it, but if you're going to go out and schmooze with the kind of folks who can help us, you can't be ignorant of the political and economic events that rule their lives.

"You may be able to get away with dropping your "g's" all over the place and mispronouncing words. That may give you something of a homespun style that might play well. I think we should focus more on bringing you up to speed on current events. Sister Magdalene can keep you abreast of Church politics. I'll get you some books on contemporary culture and politics. Put aside your anthropology and history books aside for a while.

"You also need to start reading the daily newspaper, both from Columbus and some of the national papers."

Mother made a face, "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Trust me: you're going to loathe and despise it." She laughed. "We know you always did have a tendency to swear from time to time. I'm guessing you'll be turning the air blue before long."

Over the next few weeks, the convent and orphanage were hotbeds of activity. Mother had involved every nun and every child who was old enough to help in the process. She and Maggie divided up the names. Mother visited with each nun and some of the children. Maggie visited with the rest of the children. They solicited ideas, comments and observations about maintenance issues that needed to be addressed. They translated those comments into numbers, and added them to their ballooning budget.

Up until that time, Mercy had continued to bake the bread every morning. Two of the teen-agers suggested they take over that process. Baking bread wasn't difficult and it would free Mother for other duties. Both for financial reasons and because most of the cooking was being done by the PK Kids, meals were simple. In the past Helen and Mercy had tried to create variety and interest in the food. They experimented with herbs and spices and recipes from around the world. The new focus was on nutrition and economics. Bread and soup were on the menu for at least one meal almost every day. Beans replaced meat as the primary source of protein. Meat was reserved for the smallest children and the oldest and sickest sisters.

Mother routinely ignored the lights out warning at 11:00, to the point that the night Proctor started simply saying "good night" instead of "lights out." She read until one or two in the morning every day, and then got up before five for a quick shower, 5:30 prayers and then a quick meeting with the KP Kids at six. She ate breakfast the way she'd eaten all her other meals for the last nineteen years, standing over the sink. While the others ate breakfast in the dining room, she read the morning papers in her office. Her one luxury was coffee which she enjoyed in the quiet of her office while everyone else was occupied. It was the one hour of the day she knew it was unlikely she would be interrupted, except for the occasional emergency, involving 911 calls.

As she read the papers, she rather wished someone would interrupt her because what she saw outraged her. While she was trying to keep body and soul together for eleven sisters, who had devoted their entire lives to serving others, and a bunch of orphans, who had been either thrown away by their families or taken away by the state for their own safety, the rest of the world had gone nuts.

It was the Eighties. It seemed that every day the papers were filled with more outrageous advertisements for luxury goods and articles about rampant consumerism. It seemed to her that ostentatious consumption had become something of a competitive sport, with everyone vying to have more, bigger, better and more expensive stuff than their neighbors.

Mercy had never registered to vote before, but she decided she wanted to register for the next election. The problem was, she didn't have a birth certificate, a driver's license or any other official ID. She discovered that she didn't actually exist, officially speaking. She put that on the list of things to discuss with the lawyer. She thought she should probably have some kind of actual identity if she was going to go out begging for what was likely to be hundreds of thousands of dollars.

A week or so later, Bishop Bosworth called her to tell her that an attorney would be contacting her shortly. He said, "I think you'll like her. She worked with a firm that represented the diocese for a while. Then she left that firm and went to work for an small firm that did litigation. Now she's a full-time mom, taking a break from the rough and tumble of the law. She agreed to do an initial consultation with you for free. If you want her to do any of the actual work, she'll charge you but she won't charge as much as you'd pay a firm. I do want to warn you. Use her for stuff pertaining to dealing with the government but don't let the diocese or any of the fat cats know you're working with her."

"Why?"

"Well, she's kind of a radical Catholic. She didn't leave her firm voluntarily. You'd think that punishment would have been enough, but Church politicians have long memories and they are not as forgiving as Our Lord would like them to be."

She laughed, "In other words she's high on the Diocesan Shit List."

"Exactly."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Eminence. I can't tell you..."

"Don't mention it. I hope I can help you. I will pray for you."

"Me and my charges need all the prayers you can spare."

Mother Mercy met with the lawyer, Christina Baldera, a few days later. Mercy asked Sister Maggie to join them. Sister Maggie said little during the meeting, but looked as though she were trying not to laugh the whole time. They made a list of legal work they needed, and agreed on a bargain basement price of $100 an hour. The lawyer left with a long to-do list. Mother Mercy ended up with an even longer one.

After Christina left, Mercy turned to Sister Maggie and asked, "What in the world is so funny?"

"Do you know who she is?"

"No. Bishop Bosworth told me she is a good lawyer, but that she had got cross-ways with Bishop Elkins and I should keep her in the background."

"That would be wise. In fact, I think you should think long and hard about having her do any work for us. She's a very radical Catholic. She favors ordination of women and abortion rights. She all but called Elkins a bastard in a meeting a few years ago, which got her fired from her job. Did Bosworth tell you what she did after she got fired?"

"He said she went to work for a firm that did litigation."

Maggie looked horrified and leaned forward, "Mother, be careful! Bosworth may be playing games with you! After Christina was fired from the firm that represents the diocese, she went to work for a firm that represents people who alleged they were sexually abused by priests. They sued the diocese in civil suits and were responsible for getting a couple of priests indicted on criminal charges. Elkins hates her, and virtually everybody else in the diocese does, as well. They consider her a trouble maker of the worst sort. She's the kind of troublemaker who's willing to show the Church's dirty linen in public.

"That doesn't bother me because she's got the credentials of a good attorney. It bothers me that Bosworth would recommend her and not tell you about her baggage."

"Maybe he forgot. He's awfully old."

"That's possible. But, I think it would be smart of you to assume that he's got some kind of motive. This may not be Rome, but local ecclesiastical politics are, if possible, even more cut-throat than secular politics."

"Maybe Bishop Bosworth thinks I'm a trouble-maker, too."

Maggie laughed, "No disrespect intended, Mother: you are a trouble-maker."

Mother Mercy was truly offended, "You tell me when – just once – I have been anything other than the model of an obedient and humble nun."

Maggie thought about it for a long time before she answered, but decided to answer truthfully, because she loved Mercy and wanted her to understand the true picture of things, "The day you refused to submit totally to the teaching authority of the Church and every day since."

Mercy paused, "Oh, that."

"Yes. That."

"How do you know about that?"

"I can tell."

"Is it obvious?"

"I don't think so, except maybe to somebody else with the same problem."

"You struggle with the Church's teachings as well?"

"No, I don't struggle with the teachings at all. Like you, I out-and-out reject most of Church doctrine. The difference between you and me is that you have somehow managed to keep your mouth shut and stay out of trouble. I've been in hot water my whole life."

Mercy took Maggie's hand, "Until you came here."

Huge tears welled up in Maggie's eyes and spilled over, "Until I came here."

Mercy said, with her eyes closed and a rather amused look on her face, "This place is kind of the diocesan doghouse. We take in children nobody wants and take care of them by nuns nobody wants."

"What do you mean?"

"With the exception of me and Sister Antonia – we are the only two nuns in this place who came in as postulants and stayed – all the other nuns in this convent started out someplace else and they were sent here because their home convent found them, let's call it 'inconvenient'. I won't go into any details, but we are the most motley crew since the original Twelve Apostles. The sad thing is that the Church has seen fit to assign a bunch of women it deems not otherwise fit to serve God, to care for a bunch of cast-off children, who deserve the very best care and nurturing there is."

Sister Maggie interjected, "Ironically, I think our kiddies get exactly that."

"They always have. And I'll tell you now, Maggie, I mean to keep it that way. I never been in trouble in the diocese before, but I may be headed in that direction now. That will be a small price to pay if it means I can continue to take care of my lambs."

"Maybe that's why Bishop Bosworth sent you to Christina. Maybe he's not playing games. Maybe he's trying to give you into the care of someone else who isn't scared of Holy Mother Church."

"I sincerely hope you're right about that, but as a precaution, I will be careful around Bishop Bosworth."

The nuns met almost daily to review their budget numbers . The mobile sisters took turns taking the bus to the hospital to visit the sick ones. The rest of the sisters, and some of the children, filled in to help with the absent sisters' work around the convent and the orphanage.

Sister Mercy spoke every few days with Christina and was impressed with the efficiency and professionalism with which she was treated. Christina took care of the paperwork to get all the eligible nuns signed up for Medicaid. Most were already collecting Social Security, but she found some of them were not collecting the correct amount. She arranged to have those payments corrected. She looked into grants that were available for non-profits working with children, and helped the sisters get the necessary forms to fill out grant applications. Sister Ramona volunteered to learn to complete grant applications.

When they thought they had crunched their budget numbers as close to the bone as they could get them, Mother made another trek to the nursing home to see Bishop Bosworth and Father Ted. She showed them the numbers. They both whistled.

Bishop Bosworth asked with an incredulous look on his face, "You don't honestly think you can get by on that, do you?"

"We're getting by on considerably less now, Eminence."

The Bishop said, "Go back and add at least 25% to each line item in this budget. Nobody will take it seriously if it shows any less." He reached into the pocked of his robe and pulled out a calling card, "Nancy Jacobson is the person you should start with. She's loaded, and she may even give you an initial infusion of cash, but don't press too hard for that. Her value to you is her fund-raising ability. I suggest you approach her with a request to help you raise money as opposed to requesting money from her. If she's not ready to get back in the saddle with fund-raising, she can at least put you in touch with someone who is."

"Thank you, Eminence."

She started to get up and then sat back down. Her direct nature was not cut out for navigating political waters. She knew Maggie would clobber her for being so direct, but she had to know, "May I ask you a question, sir?"

"Certainly, Sister."

"Why didn't you tell me that Christina Baldera had represented people who accused priests in the diocese of sexual abuse? All you said was she had worked on litigation. You didn't tell me she sued the diocese and put at least one priest in prison. It seems to me that would've been information I should've known before I hired her."

Bishop Bosworth looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be angry or amused. He sighed, "I purposely did not mention it for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, that whole episode is something I don't like to talk about. Some of that business occurred while I was bishop. I had no knowledge of it, but when I found out that certain members of my staff knew about it and were involved in covering it up, I cooperated with the attorneys for the victims. It is a very sore subject I don't like to think about. I also did not tell you because I did not want you to reject Christina out of hand for the reason that you might think she's too controversial. The fact is, Christina Baldera is two things: she's a good Catholic and she's a damned fine lawyer.

"It may be true that hiring her may get you crosswise with Bishop Elkins, but I'm guessing the good folks in our diocesan offices have not been particularly sympathetic to your plight anyway, so that should not be a problem. You answer to the Order not to the diocese."

"Thank you. It bothered me that you failed to share such important information."

He laughed, "What you really mean is that Sister Magdalene suggested that it was some kind of set up, that I was playing some kind of political game with you. I am guessing she told you to be careful and not to trust anybody, including me."

Mother Mercy gasped, blushed and stammered, "Why would you say such a thing?"

He laughed, by now genuinely amused, "I would say such a thing because I believe it to be true. First of all, apart from yourself, Sister Magdalene may be the smartest and most courageous nun resident in the diocese. You would do well to pay attention to her. She has great instincts, and she knows a lot of people who can and do provide her with information that you will need in the coming months and years. You would do well to take advantage of her counsel.

"As for whether or not you can trust me, I think the answer to that question is simply, I want to help you. However, it would probably be better for both you and for me if you let me help you quietly from behind the scenes, preferably through Father Ted rather than direct meetings. I'm not in the habit of being this direct, but I suspect you would prefer nothing less than the real truth here.

"Elkins and I have been on opposite sides of every issue you can name since we were young priests. It used to be simply theological issues where we differed, and for some time we were actually relatively friendly. Over time, our differences became personal. We intensely dislike each other. The entire time I was bishop, he did everything he could to undermine my authority with my priests, get me in trouble with Rome and make me look bad to the people of the diocese. When I first left the diocesan office, I went to Rome. I'll admit, I tried every way I could while I was there to find someone who was willing to take Elkins down a peg. The problem was that the so-called Conservatives were in total control at the time. Elkins was their darling, and I was the one who was looked at askance.

"I moved to Florida for a while, but hated it there. Eventually, I decided to come back home. I have nieces and nephews who live in the area, and I love Central Ohio. Elkins was not happy to have me in his backyard. I have tried as best I can to stay out of diocesan affairs. I refuse to meet with diocesan officials or diocesan priests. I do occasionally meet with priests from certain religious orders, and I'm very friendly with the heads of certain orders of sisters, including your own. Most of them are in the same kind of financial straits you are.

"I am helping you because you need help. You will get no help at all from the diocese because, although it is happy to take advantage of the skills of sisters from various Orders who teach in diocesan schools, work as nurses in diocesan hospitals and serve in various other capacities to the benefit of the diocese, it has always taken the position that the only thing it owed was the stipends it paid for their services, which were less than lay teachers earned. The diocese never offered benefits of any kind to the sisters who served as the backbone of the educational and medical services we provide in our communities. The diocese's position is that your Order is responsible for taking care of its members, not the diocese."

Mother Mercy chuckled, "You say the salaries the diocese pays the sisters who work in the schools and hospitals are less than what it pays lay people?"

"By anywhere from 40% to 60% less."

"Does the diocese offer medical and retirement benefits to diocesan priests and lay employees."

"Yes, it does."

She smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Now, isn't that interesting?"

He smiled back with a bland look and simply said, "I thought you would find it so."

She went on, "Okay, while we're speaking bluntly here, and I'm assuming we're speaking for about the last time, let me make sure I understand. You want to keep in the background because it could get you in trouble and it wouldn't do me any good for people to think you're helping me to undermine the current bishop. Therefore, you pointed me in the direction of people who can help me, but we are to keep you out of it. Right?"

"That's correct."

"I'm guessing that it's no coincidence you pointed me at a lawyer who's not afraid to sue the diocese when what I've really got is, maybe, a serious case of discrimination of some kind."

"If not a legally protected form of discrimination, at least you have some kind of serious inequity in wages and benefits."

She laughed, "I'm thinkin' the diocese would not want to get cross-wise of the Department of Labor. I'm guessin' that there are prob'ly a lot of underpaid people working for the Church. The Church seems to take the position that its employees should work for the privilege of serving God's kingdom, and not for money to feed their families. Hell, I worked seven days a week from five in the morning until eight at night for absolutely nothing, while the convent was collectin' money from the state fer my keep! And then when I turned 18 they were gonna kick me out on the streets with nothin'. I gotta tell you that still sticks in my craw. I'm sure if we started lookin' at the employment practices in the diocese we'd find all kindsa stuff that would be illegal, or, if not illegal, at least interestin' to the newspapers."

"I'm sure you would."

She sighed, "Well, lets hope it don't come to that, but it's always nice to have a good negotiations tool."

The bishop said, "I think they call that an ace in the hole."

"In this case, I'd prefer to consider it a shiv I'm keeping up my sleeve and not even show it unless I absolutely have to."

"That would probably be for the best."

She stood up again and kissed his ring. He put his hand on her head, as he murmured a blessing, he looked over her to Father Ted and smiled. Father Ted smiled back and nodded.

Mother Mercy took the bus back to the convent, arriving just as dinner was ending. She went directly to the kitchen and ate a few bites of soup standing at the sink. She broke off a hunk of bread and wiped the soup bowl clean. One of the older girls working in the kitchen came up to her and said, "Mother, I know you have a lot on your mind, but I'd like to talk to you sometime soon. I just turned seventeen. I've lived here since I was four. I want to have some kind of plan and arrangements for what I can do when I leave here."

"That's a good idea, dear. When I turned eighteen, Mother simply told me to leave. I freaked out at the thought, and signed on to be a nun kinda out of desperation."

Angela said, "I didn't know you were an orphan."

Mercy sighed, "I guess technically I was a runaway, but, I come here with my little brother when I was about sixteen. I think we should talk about your exit arrangements. We'll need to make a plan to get you a scholarship for school and find you a place to live. I'm assuming you want to go to college."

"Actually, I want to go to culinary school. I love working in the kitchen. I'd like to work in a restaurant someday."

"Then we most definitely will talk. You know where I keep my calendar on my desk in the office?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Before you go to bed, figure out when is a good time for you between meals sometime in the next few days. Put it on my calendar for me. Also, leave a note for Sister Maggie. I want to know the birthdays of all the teen-agers. We need to start planning for our kiddies' futures more than a few minutes ahead of their eighteenth birthday."

Mercy sighed deeply. Angela said, "I'm sorry to add to your burdens, Mother."

"Your welfare is no burden, dear. It's my responsibility"

She hurried off to Compline, arriving just before the service ended and the sisters filed out. She motioned to Sister Maggie. The other sisters went to their rooms. Mercy and Sister Maggie went to the small kitchen off the dining room where they sat over cups of herbal tea. Mother Mercy filled Maggie in on her conversation with Bishop Bosworth. Maggie nodded her head and drummed her fingers on the table.

When Mercy finished her story, she asked, "What do you think of that? Do you believe he was honest with me?"

"I think he was as honest and forthright as a bishop could possibly be. I still think he's setting us up in a way. He gave us information on which to base a potential lawsuit against the diocese and put us in touch with a lawyer who's not afraid to take on the Church. If we succeed, Elkins gets a big black eye. If we fail, we're just a bunch of liberal, possibly lesbian, nuns who hate men."

Mercy commented, "Either way, Bosworth's hands are clean."

"Mother, that's the way church politics – maybe all politics – works: the people behind the scenes are careful to work through third parties, who take the blame if things go wrong. If things go well, somehow the folks who were behind it usually figure out a way to take the credit."

"Lovely."

"Isn't it just? So. What do you plan to do?"

"First, I plan to raise the money in the time-honored way of the Franciscans: I plan to beg for it. I intend to call Nancy Jacobson this week. Do you know anything about her?"

"Actually, I know her fairly well. If you want me to, I'll make the call. She's taken a hiatus from church work for a year or so following her husband's death. The bishop seems to think it's because of mourning. I'm not so sure about that. I have the impression Nancy has a sour taste in her mouth over the way Elkins handled the abuse lawsuits. Correction: I know she does.

"What Elkins and the folks in the diocese don't know is that one of the plaintiff's in the lawsuits was the son of one of Nancy's oldest friends. She took an interest in the case for that reason. It's my understanding her church work declined as the case progressed. Her husband's sudden death was not the cause of her backing off from the Church. I have lost touch with Nancy since I came here, but she was very angry about the way the diocese handled the abuse claims."

Mercy laughed, "Do you think Bishop Bosworth knows that?"

"I'd bet on it."

"So he's put us in touch with a rich woman who is angry with the diocese and a talented lawyer who's already taken on the Church and won."

"Christina won the lawsuits but at great personal and professional cost. She's not an at-home mother by choice. She was literally hounded out of her profession by the Church she used to love."

"If we take on the diocese, it will be just as you said: a bunch of man-hating bitches trying to poke Holy Mother Church in the eye."

"Pretty much."

"And we won't get any direct help from anyone, including Bishop Bosworth or our own Order."

"Right. In fact, we can pretty much count on Elkins and the leadership of our Order being all over our asses the whole time."

"If anything, we'll probably end up being disciplined by the Order."

"Quite possibly on orders from Rome."

"Do you think I could be expelled from the Order?"

"I don't know about that, but I'd bet you'll be moved to a convent someplace far away, and put back to a job baking bread seven days a week."

Mercy laughed, "If that's the worst that can happen to me, then I'm ready to move forward immediately! What about you?"

"Mother, to be totally honest, if this goes badly, I'll bail out. I can get a job. I know a bunch of sisters and former sisters all over the Midwest. I could find a place to live. With my teaching experience and the current epidemic of learning disabilities, I could get a job anywhere. I think you and I both know we two are natural born survivors. We'll be fine.

"The larger question is: what affect will this have on the rest of the sisters and on the kids?"

Mercy thought about that for a while and then murmured, "Worst case, if we have to take on the diocese and lose, the Order will close the orphanage and move the sisters to one of its nursing-home convents. That would be good for the sisters, probably. What would happen to the kids?"

"They'd probably all be transferred to secular homes like the one I grew up in and/or put in foster care."

"That is not acceptable."

Sister Maggie looked at Mercy and raised her eyebrows, "So what do we do?"

Mother Mercy smiled, "We make sure we don't lose."

She put her face in her hands and massaged her eyebrows. "I guess for starters we try to get the emergency money from donations. Will you call Mrs. Jacobson?"

"Certainly." Maggie looked at Mother Mercy for a long minute, stood up and patted Mercy's arm, "I'll be right back."

She came back a few minutes later with two small medicine cups in her hand. Each was filled with an amber liquid, "Have you ever had bourbon?"

"Um. I don't think so."

"Here. Sister Perpetua keeps a bottle of bourbon on hand for medicinal purposes. She makes toddies for nuns who have bad chest colds. Plus, I think she gives Sister Tobias a toddy occasionally just to help the old gal sleep, poor dear. Anyway, I think this qualifies as a quasi-medical emergency. I just hope Sister Perpetua doesn't notice we took some. I'm sure she marks the bottle in some way, but I couldn't find it."

"Best course would be to leave a note. Tell her we took a nip."

Maggie laughed, "Mother, you will never make a good Catholic if you persist in being so direct and honest!"

Mercy grinned, "When did you ever hear me say I had any desire to be a good Catholic?"

"You mean that?"

"I absolutely mean that. My first loyalty is to the kids of the orphanage and the sisters of this convent. I guess if I have a second loyalty it would be to the Order because they stuck by me when they prob'ly shouldn't have. Beyond that, I've tried to ignore the Catholic Church and hoped it would ignore me."

"Well, I can pretty much guarantee you that if you end up getting cross-ways with the diocese, the Church will do everything but ignore you."

"I reckon, I'll just have to take my chances."

Maggie knocked back the bourbon in one swift motion and leaned across the table, "If all else fails you and I can get an apartment together someplace. We'll open a restaurant. You can be the cook and I'll be the business manager. Maybe we could affiliate with the culinary academy and train students."

Mercy tasted a few drops of the bourbon and made a horrible face, "How can you drink that shit?"

"Toss it to the back of your throat, bypass the taste buds. It'll burn like hell, but in a minute that stops and you'll sleep better tonight."

Mercy said, "It sounds to me like you've thought about leaving the convent for some time."

Maggie said, "Mother, you have to know that once I landed in the convent and realized how close I had come to homelessness and God knows what all, I have never at any point in my life not had at least one and possibly two or three back up plans. I have always been determined that I would never again be as helpless as I was when they kicked me out of the orphanage with $5 and the shirt on my back."

"I understand. I wish I had been that smart." Mercy picked up the glass, took one tiny sip and choked. "Oh, God! People actually drink that stuff voluntarily?"

Maggie laughed, "They say you can acquire a taste for it."

"I find that hard to believe." She stood up. "Okay, you call Mrs. Jacobson. See if you can make an appointment with her. Frankly, I'd like for her to come here. I want her to see the kids and the nuns."

Maggie waved her hand, "I know. I know. You want us to put on the whole dog and pony show for her. I'll call her tomorrow. Right now, I'm going to bed before the bourbon wears off and I can go to sleep. I suggest you do the same."

"Don't forget to leave a note for Sister Perpetua."

"Okay. If you insist."

Sister Magdalene arranged for Mrs. Jacobson to visit the orphanage on Friday. The sisters wanted to mount a fix-up and clean-up campaign. Mother refused to let them do it. "I want her to see the place exactly as it is. We will do all our regular cleaning and I expect the place to be as immaculate as it ordinarily is. We will not do any painting or fixing up. The purpose of this visit is for her to see what we need to do. I don't want to hide our warts."

## Nancy Jacobson

Early on Friday morning, Nancy Jacobson pulled into the parking lot in a brand new BMW Sedan. She went immediately to the chapel and participated in Matins. She sat about three rows from the rear on the right side of the chapel. As was her custom, Mother Mercy slipped into the chapel at the last minute and knelt in her favorite seat, in the back row on the left side, in a deeply shadowed part of the chapel. No one could see her except someone entering behind her, but she knew her sisters all knew she was there. Ordinarily, Mother spent Matins mentally going over her agenda for the day before focusing on the communal prayers in the morning Mass, which she liked to participate in – sometimes to the consternation of Sister Lucille. Mother Mercy had many good qualities, but the ability to carry a tune wasn't one of them. Sister Lucille often admonished Mother to please sing softly. Occasionally if they played hymns she liked, Mother got carried away.

That morning Sister Lucille had purposely chosen several hymns she knew Mother didn't like or found difficult to even try to sing. Mother noticed that and chuckled. She was half tempted to sing really loud just to annoy Lucille. Mercy loved Lucille but she thought Lucille took all that liturgical pomp and ceremony far too seriously. Given the importance of their visitor, Mercy decided to behave herself.

From her vantage point, she was able to watch Mrs. Jacobson without being seen. The woman was immaculately dressed and coiffed, as Mercy would have expected. Her clothing, makeup and hair were very subtle and understated. She wore hardly any jewelry. Mercy guessed her to be in her late fifties, although she knew that Mrs. Jacobson could be considerably older. Mercy had noticed, from reading the newspapers and magazines supplied by Maggie, that some rich women didn't seem to show their age like other women.

A couple of rich ladies stopped by the orphanage every so often to drop off clothes and other donations from some of the churches. Mercy had occasionally spoken to them but she had never actually had a conversation with someone who was rich. She was very nervous because she knew that the future of the convent and the orphanage hung in the balance. The fact that her verbal persuasion was going to be key to the success of the meeting caused her to break out in a sweat. She had worked diligently to learn to speak more grammatically, but the result had been that she learned to speak in a stilted and artificial way. All the sisters had admonished her to not try to impress Mrs. Jacobson, but to just be herself.

After Mass, Mother greeted Mrs. Jacobson and invited her to have breakfast. She said, "If you like, you can have breakfast with the kiddies in the orphanage, so you'll know what we are dealing with there. I gotta warn you, some of them are, um, what you might call 'handfuls'. If you'd prefer, we can have breakfast in my office and start right in."

Mrs. Jacobson smiled, "I'd love to have breakfast with the children. After that, maybe someone can show me around. I'd like to see the operations. Then you and I can sit town and talk turkey."

Mercy beamed, "I like your style, Mrs. Jacobson!" Mercy led her to the orphanage dining room, through the kitchen where she introduced her to the KP Kids who were in the final throws of plating breakfast. The kids all waved or called out a greeting, but none of them stopped working. Mercy led her into the dining room where Maggie greeted them, in a totally rehearsed hand-off that she and Mercy hoped would not look it.

"This is Sister Magdalene. She is in charge of the orphanage operations. She has a degree in special education and is working very hard to bring our school curriculum in line with the needs of our resident students."

Mrs. Jacobson nodded. It was clear she understood the careful language.

Sister Maggie said, "It so happens, I'm proctoring in the dining room this morning, so I will join you." She introduced Mrs. Jacobson to the children, and then introduced each of the children to the woman. Mercy retreated into the kitchen and dove into washing pots and pans to give herself something to do.

One of the kids said, "Mother, don't you want to eat?" He held out a plate.

Mercy smiled and took the toast, scooped eggs on it and added a strip of bacon. She ate the sandwich with one hand, while scouring a pot with the other. Except for special occasions when she had to eat in the dining room with guests or in the convent for some business, no one had ever seen her eat from a plate. Mercy ate from one hand, while doing something else with the other.

After breakfast, Maggie and a couple of the older children took Mrs. Jacobson on a tour of the orphanage. After that, they brought her back to the kitchen where Mercy and the kitchen crews were dividing up chores for lunch. Mother led Mrs. Jacobson to the convent where she and Sister Anne took the woman for a tour and introduced her to the six elderly and invalid nuns who were in residence. They explained that two more were in the hospital and three worked out during the day.

They finished the tour and returned to Mother's office. Mrs. Jacobson said, "I am very impressed with your operation, Mother. It looks to me as though you run a really tight ship. How many people do you have on staff?"

"Excuse me?"

"How many employees do you have?"

"Mrs. Jacobson, you just met everybody."

"You mean you don't have cooks and housekeepers and nurses aids for the sisters?"

"No, ma'am. I'm the cook, with the help of the kids. The kids clean the orphanage. The sisters clean the convent; sometimes we get the kids to help with heavy cleaning. When we need maintenance work done that we can't do ourselves, we hire a handy-man who was recommended by the Order. Ours is a case of the inmates running the asylum."

"It appears you are doing a good job, although, I'm guessing that with only..." She paused and looked at her notes, "three sisters still working at paying jobs, even with the money you get from the state for the children's care, things must be tight."

"I'll level with you, Mrs. Jacobson, because I don't want to waste either of our time. Our situation is almost desperate. We have a small endowment, but it's lost a lot of value in the stock market. We have two sisters in the hospital now, and a couple of others who oughta be in the hospital, but they're so infernal stubborn they won't go. We got maintenance issues in the chapel: the roof leaks and the floor feels a little to springy when you walk on it. We got plumbing problems in both buildings. Maybe worst of all, we got disabled sisters on upper floors of the convent which does not have sprinklers or a way for handicapped people to get out in the event of a fire."

"Do any of your sisters get pensions or Social Security?"

"A couple who worked in hospitals have pensions. Most of them get some Social Security, but they made so little money when they worked, they don't get much retirement."

"What about help from the Order or the diocese?"

Sister Mercy sighed, and tried not to become impatient. She answered in an even and businesslike tone, "More than 80% of the members of the Order are retired, most of them without pensions and with minimal Social Security. Our problems are repeated everywhere in the Order. We can't expect any money from the Order. My concern on that side is, if we do get our hands on any money how I can keep the Order from takin' it away from me." She smiled and leaned forward, "But don't you worry about that! Whatever money we can raise here locally, is stayin' here locally – as in these two buildin's. I guarantee-damn-tee it!

"As for the diocese," she inadvertently made a derisive sound in the back of her throat, "The diocese employed most of our retired sisters as teachers and nurses throughout their careers. When they retired, the diocese informed us that it was up to the Order to take care of them in their old age. The diocese assumes no responsibility for members of a religious Order."

"Not even if they spent their entire careers teaching in the Catholic schools? I find that hard to believe! They pay their lay teachers a pension."

"They pay their lay teachers and secular clergy pensions. Members of religious Orders are not eligible for benefits under the diocesan plan. That includes medical benefits. The Order discontinued our medical insurance a couple of years ago. We tried to sign up our teachers and nurses on the diocesan plans. They were not allowed."

"What are you doing for medical insurance?"

"We qualify for Medicaid."

Mrs. Jacobson shook her head, "You are on Medicaid?"

"I said we qualify for Medicaid. We have one sister with cancer now who signed up for the benefits so she could get treatments and another sister who needs medicine for her heart submitted the papers a couple of weeks ago. As for the rest of us ... well, I guess we're a little guilty of pride and stubbornness. We haven't signed up for it. I don't know. There's just somethin' about signin' up for government welfare that don't go down good with most of us. Seems like the Church owes us a little something for our years of devoted service." She cleared her throat, and continued, "But we know it's an option if we need it."

Mrs. Jacobson nodded her head. "Have you prepared a budget?"

"Yes, ma'am." Mercy picked up a manila folder and handed it to Mrs. Jacobson . The woman opened it, took out the four page document it contained and studied it for a long time. Mercy waited a lot more patiently than she felt. Bishop Bosworth had warned her to be patient because Mrs. Jacobson is a careful person who takes her time about things. Mercy watched the woman occasionally purse her lips, go back and look at lines she had already read. She flipped back and forth in the document few times."

Mrs. Jacobson put down the paper, and said, "Leaving aside the maintenance issues which you admit you have not had done because you don't have the money, I think this needs work by an accountant. I can't imagine you could run this place on the operating budget you are proposing."

Mercy laughed and was not able to keep the bitterness out of the sound, "Ma'am, we have worked this budget over eight ways ta Sunday. We are already runnin' the place on 30% less than that."

"You can't be serious!"

"The first budget we prepared we called for a 5% increase over what we're spendin' now. Somebody we asked for advice told us that there is no way anybody would believe we operate on so little. They told us to increase everything by 25% over what we're spendin' now." She tapped the paper with her forefinger. "If I had that much money to operate on, I'd feel like I had just won the lottery."

Mrs. Jacobson thought for a little while and finally said, "It seems to me that you need three things. One, you need a sizable infusion of cash for immediate needs, including maintenance and operating expenses. Two, you need to increase your long-term income to replace the income you're no longer getting from sisters working in paying jobs. And, three, you need a massive infusion of cash for your endowment to give you a reserve for future needs."

"That is pretty much how I figgered it as to our needs. What I don't know is how to go about getting' the money. I am prepared to beg. I'm a Franciscan. Beggin' is an important part of our heritage. I will beg on my hands and knees if I have to, but I need somebody to help me get in to see the right people."

Mrs. Jacobson smiled and nodded, "You're instincts are good, Mother. You do need help. I can help you with some things, but not everything. I suggest you hire a lawyer and also an accountant."

Mercy hesitated, "We got a lawyer. What do I need an accountant for?"

"I think an accountant could help you figure out if you are overlooking some federal or state income sources of income. There are accountants who specialize in non-profits. I would like to have one of the people I know look at your financial statements and see if you're missing out on anything you may be entitled to beyond the Medicaid you haven't signed up for. I'm guessing some of the sisters are eligible for Social Security Disability. Let's have somebody look at that. I think I can have the review done for you either free or for really cheap."

The woman paused for a long moment and then looked Mercy in the eye and asked "Who's your lawyer?"

Mercy hesitated again. She really didn't want to tell Mrs. Jacobson she had such a radical lawyer, but she wanted to be honest. Finally she said, "Christina Baldera."

Mrs. Jacobson threw back her head and laughed. "Are you familiar with Ms. Baldera's background?"

"I know some things about her. I know I like her. And I trust her."

Mrs. Jacobson smiled and held her hands together in front of her, in an expression of delight, "You should trust her. I can't think of a better person to help you. She is ethical and honest. She's also a very, very good attorney. Most importantly for your purposes, she is not afraid of the Devil himself. More important than that, she is not afraid of the Roman Catholic Church. If it comes to pass that you have to take on the Church or any part of it, Christina's the person you want on your side."

"Do you think I'm gonna have to sue the Church?"

"That depends on how much money we can get from voluntary donations. Suing the church for back wages, benefits and pensions would be an option. We'll call it a last ditch option. It might also be the biggest potential pot of gold we've got to explore. Let's hold that in abeyance for now. I'd prefer to get the money from donations.

"I don't know how to say this, other than to be direct. I suggest you keep Christina out of sight until and unless it becomes necessary. We will be approaching some people who would definitely not give you a red cent if they knew Christina is working for you."

Mercy shook her head and said, "I'm not sure I want to take money from people who would feel that way about Christina and/or what she done."

"Sister, you don't have the luxury of ethical scruples at this point. You have little children and old nuns to feed and my advice to you is to take money from where you can get it."

"Does that mean you will help me?"

Mrs. Jacobson laughed, "This may ultimately look like the battle of the walking wounded. You got Christina to come out of her self-imposed exile and isolation following the evisceration she took after putting that bastard Gottich in prison. Now, you're asking me to come out of my self-imposed moratorium on Church work."

"I forgot to say I am very sorry about your husband's death."

"Thank you for that. My husband's death was something of a blessing. He had been sick for a very long time. He was in horrible pain and the doctors would not give him adequate doses of medicine to ease his pain because they did not want him to become addicted."

Sister Mercy made a derisive noise, "Doctors are asses!"

"Exactly."

"But, I'll be honest with you, Mother, I didn't stop working on behalf of the Church because of my husband's death. Actually I kept pretty busy with Church work while he was sick to keep my mind off of my problems. I believed that I'd feel better if I was doing something to help others. And it worked. The thing that caused me to stop working for the Church was something that happened after the Gottich trial."

She hesitated and twisted a tissue in her hands. "I have not talked about this before, and it's difficult even now to discuss. One of my dear friends had a son who was one of Gottich's victims. I was privy to some conversations following the trial that made it clear that there were people in the diocese who knew what he was doing, and did nothing to protect the children in his parish care."

Mother nodded, "And you chose to turn your back on the Church."

Mrs. Jacobson sighed, "I still go to church. I need to do that for my own purposes. I still give money to my parish. I just stopped doing large-scale fund raising for the diocese."

"If you are not willing to help us, I'll understand. Unlike me, you are in a position to have scruples. I would appreciate it if you could at least tell me who I can talk to."

Mrs. Jacobson reached out and touched Mercy's hand, "I didn't say I wouldn't help you. I intend to help you. I will help you because your sisters, who have given their lives to support the Church deserve better. I will help you because the orphans for whom you are responsible deserve better than you can give them on the money you have now. Your operation here is an example of the kind of Christ-like caring for God's children, both the young and the old, that I believe Christianity is all about. I will help you because I know that the bishop has a personal discretionary fund worth millions of dollars. In other words, he could write you a check from his petty cash fund that would ease your situation immediately. Instead, the diocese has benefited from the labor of your sisters and then thrown them back on the state to care for in their old age since their Orders are for the most part unable to do so. The diocese won't help you take care of these children because they're not Catholic. Why won't the diocese take care of them so they'll want to become Catholic?"

"That's what happened with me and Maggie."

"Excuse me?"

"I was in this very orphanage from the time I was sixteen until I come of age. I became a sister because they were kind and good to me. Maggie's story is hers to tell or not as she pleases, but she's a Catholic and a damned fine nun today because a few wonderful sisters made the effort to be kind to her."

Mrs. Jacobson nodded. "Yes, Mother, I'll help you. And, I will try as best I can to do it without ruffling feathers. Frankly, if I thought I could give you enough, I'd simply give you the money. I am wealthy, but my money's tied up in trusts and investments. I can give you some money now, and I can pledge future money. But you need more emergency cash than I can put my hands on immediately. That means we're going to have to raise money. If we can get it by simply asking or by doing traditional fund raisers, we will. If we can't get enough that way, we may have to sue the diocese." She paused, "By the way, if we do that, I think we should consider asking for assistance for all the sisters and religious brothers who have been so egregiously taken advantage of by the Church."

Mother Mercy chuckled, "I think they call that a Class Action lawsuit, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's been talked about for a few years in various places, not just in this diocese. All over America – and maybe all over the world – there are elderly nuns, priests and monks living in poverty because the people they gave their lives to care for turned their backs when they got old and needed care themselves."

"You wanna know what my Departmental Director said when I tole her somethin' to that effect?"

"What?"

"She tole me we're Franciscans and we're supposed to be poor."

"And what did you say to that?"

"I told her that I didn't think Franciscan poverty required old nuns to go without medicine or nutritious food when there's money out there. I'm prepared to beg like a Franciscan, but I'm not gonna let my people go hungry and without medicine." She grinned, and added, "In other words I tole her, in as polite a way as I could, that what she was sayin' was utter bullshit."

Mrs. Jacobson laughed until she started to hiccup. "Mother, I think that you and I will be a great team. I have to ask you. Was it Bishop Bosworth who put you onto me?"

Mercy looked uncomfortable. "Well, actually it was Sister Maggie who made the call."

"I know that. I want to know if you've talked to Bishop Bosworth."

"Yes, ma'am. I did talk to him. He wants to stay in the background."

"Understandably, and rightly so. We'll keep him completely out of sight, but I'm asking because I want to know if he told you when and how he and I became friends."

"No, ma'am. He just told me you was a stand-up gal and filthy rich." Mercy put her hand over her mouth.

Mrs. Jacobson dissolved into another gale of laughter, "That may be one of the nicest things a bishop has ever said about me. Anyway, I'm going to tell you how he and I became allies. You deserve to know. I have continued to be a factor in this diocese for many years precisely because I am filthy rich, so, even though Bishop Elkins hates me, he's had to put up with me. I have to tell you I have taken no end of delight in making sure I have been seated next to him or at least at his table at every fund raiser or diocesan function I've attended in years. I love to force him to deal with me. It's actually probably sinful of me."

"Why does he hate you?"

"Well. Back in the mid-Sixties after Vatican II ended and Pope John died, Bishop Bosworth tried to continue the reforms the Council started. Elkins dogged him at every turn. I was on the Parish Council at Christ the King parish in Columbus. Our rector was an ass and he didn't like me because he thought I was a liberal, which I was and am and I'm damned proud of it. But, my family was rich and I was married into an even richer family. He had to put up with me because those two families accounted for a significant portion of his budget. What he didn't know – and I never told him – was that my liberal views were as unpopular among my relatives as they were with him.

"Anyway, I was elected to the first Parish Council that was formed after Vatican II. At some point in the late 1960's we had a couple of Synods to discuss diocesan business. Elkins and his bunch of conservatives used it as an opportunity to try to oust Bishop Bosworth, whom I liked.

"I also usually add here that I was pregnant at the time. I blame the hormones for losing it like I did.

"Anyway, there was a small breakout meeting in which I ended up at a table with Elkins and a bunch of others of his ilk. They were spewing all kinds of anti-Bosworth and anti-Council venom. I got mad. Elkins said something totally absurd and I stood up and said to him – even after all these years I can't believe I did it – I said, 'That is the biggest bunch of fucking bullshit I've ever heard in my life, even from a priest!'"

It was Mercy's turn to laugh. She laughed so hard, she had to excuse herself and go to the bathroom. When she came back she was still laughing. She managed to say, "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Jacobson. I apologize."

Mrs. Jacobson grinned, "I shouldn't have said that to him and I shouldn't repeat it to a nun, but it felt totally wonderful. As you can imagine, there's been a cold war between me and Elkins ever since. Every now and then it heats up."

Mercy laughed and said, "So, let me see if I'm understandin' this situation. I am going into this project with the assistance of a lawyer, who took on the Church and won (but who lost her job and a lot of friends in the process), and a rich woman who is both a known liberal and the kind of woman who would call bullshit on a priest in public."

"That about sizes it up. You scared yet?"

"Mrs. Jacobson, I been scairt since the minute the Chapter voted me into the role of Superior, but I ain't gonna let bein' afraid stop me. At least I know that now I got help from a couple of people who won't turn tail and run when things get tough."

Mrs. Jacobson held out her hand, shook Mercy's hand warmly and said, "Call me Nancy. I'll be in touch soon. I'll show myself out. I'm sure you are very busy."

As soon as she closed the office door, Maggie burst in from the back door, jumping around, pumping the air and laughing, "That was fabulous! You did great!"

"You were eaves-dropping!"

"Of course I was eaves-dropping. How the hell do you think nuns find out what they need to know? Sure as hell nobody keeps us informed." She winked.

Mercy waved her arms, "Go back to work. She's going to call us in a few days."

## Sister Anne

Mercy went to the convent and sought out Sister Anne, who was knitting an afghan in front of a window in the Chapter hall. Mercy smiled and said, "How'd you manage to find time alone? If you want, I'll come back later."

"No, please stay. It's been a while since we've talked. I'd enjoy your company. I hope you don't mind if I keep knitting. I want to make extra afghans and shawls for the Dearies before winter comes. It gets very cold in the infirmary and I live in fear of a pneumonia epidemic."

Mercy went to the sideboard where there was almost always a pot of tea at least semi-warm. She poured a cup for herself and one for Sister Anne. The Chapter room was essentially a large living room which doubled as a recreation room and meeting hall. It was the brightest and cheeriest room in the entire convent. Sister Mercy hardly ever had time to go there except for Chapter meetings. Some of the other ambulatory older nuns almost lived there. It was odd for the place to be empty.

"Where is everybody?"

Sister Anne concentrated on a corner for a second and then said, "We have a bit of a tummy bug going around. Everybody's napping."

She looked at Mother for a long time and narrowed her eyes. "You seem troubled."

"Would you expect me to be anything but troubled given what you know about our situation?"

"No."

"You were the Mother Superior for me for all those years. It's hard for me to call you Sister. Can I just call you Anne?"

"I would like that."

"Okay, then, Anne." She giggled. "That sounds funny. Anyway, what would you do if you was still in my shoes."

"Well, first I'd consider running away. Then I'd consider stealing Sister Perpetua's bottle of medicinal bourbon."

"I'm serious. Please don't kid around."

Sister Anne sighed, "Mercy, I don't know what I'd do. I'm not as good with math or money as you, which makes me ever more grateful that you are in charge and not me, but I know enough about the finances of this place to know that we simply do not have the money to take care of both the children and the sisters. Is Mrs. Jacobson going to be able to help us?"

"She's going to try. I think we can expect some money from her, but it won't be enough. She's going to contact some people and see how much she can raise. I'm still afraid it won't be enough. We're going to have to cut back even more than we have up ta now."

"Where? We're eating cabbage soup four days a week. We have meat only about twice a week. The children are drinking powdered milk, for God's sake. Even your magical powers around a stove can't make the food taste good anymore. We don't use the air conditioning at all. We keep the heat at 65 in the winter. Both the convent and the orphanage need repairs. Where can we cut?"

"I don't know."

Sister Anne narrowed her eyes and said, "I heard you met with Christina Baldera. What was that about?"

"Christina is going to make sure that all the sisters are signed up for every federal assistance program they may be eligible for, and she's going to look for grants or other sources of funding from non-profits or foundations that give money for children and/or old people."

"You think that will help?"

"Well, it sure as heck won't hurt."

"What will you do when it turns out to be not enough?"

"I don't know."

"Be honest with me, Mercy. Are you thinking of suing the Church?"

Mercy closed her eyes and thought long and hard before she answered. Finally she said, barely above a whisper, "Mother. I mean, Anne, that is the last thing I want to do. I know that suing the Church would cause a regular shit storm and the full power of the Church would be on us like hounds from Hell. The Church is not accustomed to bein' challenged, 'specially not from it religious orders. I truly do not want to go down that road." She paused and leaned forward with a steely look in her eye and her teeth clenched, "But, my bounden duty as Superior of this Community is to take care of the children and the nuns. If there turns out to be no other way to feed my lambs, I'll consider a lawsuit."

Sister Anne said, "We could close the orphanage. The children could go to a secular orphanage. The old nuns can go to homes run by the Church. Those of you who are young enough to work out can either live in small communal apartments or move to another convent."

Mercy made a face. "Have you ever heard Sister Maggie talk about growing up in a secular orphanage?"

"No. Unfortunately, I've never been on Sister Magdalene's list of confidants. I think she thinks I'm an old fuddy-duddy."

"You're lucky not to have heard it. She's got quite a story. There is no way in hell I'm sending my children to a secular orphanage. They're a rascally bunch and I regularly want to clobber the lot of them, but they're my responsibility and I'm not turning them over to a bunch of government bureaucrats and paid attendants who will neglect or abuse them, or both. We may feed them cabbage soup four days a week, but we serve it with love and they are safe here. And they're going to stay that way, by God."

Sister Anne smiled and said nothing for a long time. Eventually she asked, "What will suing the Church involve?"

"I'm not sure. Christina will need to educate me about the law and the whole process. I don't need her to tell me, though, that it will be an awful thing for us to endure. I don't want to do it, but I will if I have to. What I want to know is if you'll back me up. You were the Superior of this Community for many years. You are educated and the old nuns revere and respect you. If you support a lawsuit, they will go along. I want to know how you feel about it. I know some of the older sisters seem to be more devoted to the Church than to anything in the world. I can't even bring up this subject without your support."

Sister Anne sat for a long time, looking out the window, her knitting needles poised but still in her lap. Eventually, she sighed deeply and said, "I don't want to challenge the Church. It has been my refuge and my safe haven since I was a small child. Like you, I came to St. Mary's as an orphan. My parents were still alive, but it was 1930. The Depression was on, and people were desperate. I was eight or nine years old. I don't remember where we came from, but my family got on a train somewhere. My family consisted of my mother, my father and me. We got as far as Columbus, and evidently they didn't have enough money for all of us to continue to wherever they were headed. My father decided to leave me behind. I remember my mother crying and begging him to stay in Columbus, get a job and keep the family together. He refused. Instead, they left me at St. Mary's and they went on their way without me.

"I grew up in the orphanage here. I took Instructions and joined the church. Like you, I joined the Convent because I had nowhere else to go, and this was the only family I knew.

"Unlike you, I tried to believe what they taught me about God and Jesus and the saints. I was the most outwardly spiritual of all the sisters in the convent. I spent every waking moment when I wasn't working in the orphanage as a teacher or an administrator on my knees in the chapel. The other nuns thought I was some kind of saint. The reality was that I was trying with all my spiritual might to believe something that I truly thought was a huge load of baloney. I begged the God I didn't believe in for faith. Every day for a couple of decades."

"What happened that made you stop?"

"The Chapter elected me Superior and I became too damned busy to worry about God or Jesus or anything outside the walls of this convent and orphanage complex. I decided that if God wanted me to believe in him, he'd give me faith. I decided to focus on the one biblical figure I liked and could relate to: the Blessed Mother. Mary of Nazareth and Mary of Bethany are the only New Testament characters who ever captured my imagination. I decided to channel all my devotions to the Blessed Mother. I prayed the Rosary and poured out my heart to her."

Mercy asked, "How'd that work for you?"

"I has actually worked okay. When I'm being rational, I realize that I'm praying to a person who probably never existed. But then I read somewhere that Mary has been interpreted by a lot of people over the years as the Christian version of the Great Mother. That made all the difference. My mother abandoned me but I have always believed in a Good Mother figure: a mother who loves her children and takes care of them. I wanted to be a Mother like that to those in my care. Between you and me, I've managed to get along fine without God or Jesus."

Mercy laughed, "I am honored that you trust me with that information."

"Of course I do because I know you don't believe it either."

"How do you know that?"

"I can tell."

"Does any one else know?"

"I don't think so. For your sake, I hope not."

"Why did you push me so hard to believe?"

"Because your life would have been a lot easier if you could have bought into the party line. I know. From experience."

"Ya think it's kinda ironic that the two agnostics or maybe atheists in the convent ended up in charge?"

"Sure. Actually, I have kind of ended up with a sort of quasi-faith. I believe there is some kind of force that is at the heart of Creation. I don't believe in the Christian personal God or the Trinity or any of that biblical nonsense, but I do believe that Creation is not random. I think that whatever that creative force is has a massively twisted sense of humor. The biblical God typically chooses the person who is least obvious to do the big, important things. That is an important theme in the biblical narrative. I think that may be one of the truest things in the Bible. The least likely candidates are often the best for the really hard jobs. I find the humor of having this convent full of devoted, faithful religious women led by the likes of you and me to be delightful. The night they elected you Superior, I laughed until I threw up."

"Thanks. I 'ppreciate that."

"No! I had serious reservations about you when Lucille and Ted were trying to beat some Christianity into you. I was always a little afraid you'd be rebellious. You turned out to be the best nun I've ever seen. I was delighted they turned to you for leadership. Regardless of what you believe."

Mercy sipped her tea and made an impatient gesture with her hand, "Okay, so we add heresy to our list of sins, but I won't tell anyone if you don't."

"Who am I going to tell?"

"As amusing as this theological digression is, it ain't gonna put food on the table. You never answered my question. Will you back me or not?"

"You crack me up. You are so well read and you have an incredible vocabulary, but your grammar and pronunciation are atrocious. I'm an English teacher by training. I want to smack you when you say ain't."

"Get over it." Mercy paused, "And quit dodging my question."

Sister Anne continued her knitting for a long time without saying anything. Her lips were pursed and her eyes blazed with fury, "I most certainly will back you. I hate the Church of Rome with a passion that sometimes frightens me. I would love for someone somewhere to stand up and challenge the Pope and all his minions. I personally would love to be a part of that. However, we have a bunch of damaged children for whom we are responsible, and we have more than a dozen old ladies who are faithful and obedient Catholics. If we take on the Church, we could all be kicked out on the street. For me, I'm on board, totally. As for me, I'll go live under a bridge until I freeze to death and hope the newspaper runs an article about it. However, I am not willing to push our other sisters to make that sacrifice."

Mercy bent at the waist and put her head between her knees as though she felt faint. She looked up at Sister Anne, gritting her teeth with her eyes blazing. "Then we'll just have to come up with another way."

Sister Anne said, "I have an idea, but I'm afraid that nobody will like it."

"Is it better than suing the Church?"

"Not by much, but, yeah."

"Tell me."

"I have a friend who is an Augustinian priest. He lives in a community in the old part of town that is being gentrified. They recently received notice that their house is to be taken by the county to built a new on-ramp to I-70. There are eleven priests in the community. They all have jobs as chaplains, teachers and functionaries in various hospitals or nursing homes. We've discussed the problem of the aging nuns living upstairs in the convent with no fire escapes. We have so few children, the second story in the orphanage is empty. What if we move the children to the second floor dormitories, move the nuns to the first floor of the orphanage, and rent out the convent to the priests. They could even maybe say a weekday Mass for the sisters occasionally. We have had no regular confessor and priest since Father Ted retired. I know some people will blow a gasket at the thought of having priests, nuns and children living in such close proximity, but it could help us all out."

Mercy clapped her hands, "That's a great idea! Give me the contact information for the head of that community."

The next day, Mercy called Father John Scott, the president of the community of priests. She invited him to visit the convent to see if the priests would be interested in renting it. They set up a meeting for the following day. Father John and a couple of others who were available arrived around 11:30. Mercy fed them lunch with the children. They splurged and made 15 bean soup with cornbread. Mercy had even begged some ham-bones from the grocery store to flavor the soup. She bought a pound of butter and made sure that the priests had plenty of butter for their cornbread.

After lunch they toured the orphanage, the chapel and, then, the convent. The children who were old enough and the nuns who were healthy enough had been up half the night scrubbing, polishing, changing light bulbs and touching up paint where they could. The big repairs still loomed, but the convent had not looked so good in years.

The men said very little during the tour. The sisters chattered rapidly about such nonsense that Mercy wanted to smack them.

After they had seen the entire facility, Mercy invited them to meet with her in her office. Someone had moved in a couple of extra chairs. Mercy sat behind her desk. Father John sat across from her and the other priests sat on either side of him.

He said, "This is a nice facility. It's centrally located, and would be perfect for our needs. What kind of a deal are you offering?"

Mercy asked, "What is your rent on the building that will be torn down?"

"We pay $3000 a month."

Mercy thought she was going to pass out. The convent was owned by the Order and the nuns lived there rent free. He was offering her $3000 a month of free money. It occurred to her that she should check with the Order before she sublet the convent, but she decided to ignore that thought because the Order was not supporting them in any way other than providing the building. She decided to operate as though she were on her own. "I'll rent you the convent for that."

The men looked at each other. One of the younger men, whose name Mercy couldn't remember, said, "We all work full-time jobs. None of us can cook. Our cook lives in the neighborhood of our current house and she is not willing to commute outside her neighborhood. For what we have been paying her to cook for us, we think you could buy the food for both the children and the nuns if you would be willing to cook extra food for us. Because some of us are hospital chaplains, we keep crazy schedules, so we would not expect to be served at table. You could simply deliver meals in bulk to the monastery kitchen and the priests will help themselves when they are ready."

Mercy tried to hide her smile. She'd always heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. She had personally made the bean soup and cornbread and knew it to be the best meal that had been served at St. Mary's in years. These men were going pay her $3000 a month rent plus they were going to buy the food for the children and the nuns. She decided to dust off some of her old recipes and restore the kitchen of St. Mary's to it's old glory as the source of fabulous fare.

She said, "I think we could manage that. Do you want prior approval of the menus, or are you willing to trust us?"

Father John said, "Mother, your culinary reputation is well known. We'll totally trust you. But, we don't want meatless cabbage soup any time other than Lent."

Mercy said, "Neither do any of those of us who have been eating that vile shit four times a week for several years."

Father John chuckled, "We have to be out of our house in six weeks. Can you move the sisters in that time frame."

"I'll find a way."

"We'd be happy to help."

"I may take you up on that offer."

Father John asked, "Do you want us to sign a lease?"

Mother Mercy thought about that for a while. "Ordinarily, I'd say yes, because I prefer to do business the proper way, but you are offering us a way out of a serious hole we've found ourselves in. If you're willing to move in without a lease and run the risk that we may up the rent at any time, I'm willing to let you move in on a handshake. Frankly, I doubt that I have the authority to sublet the convent and I'm not going to ask my Order because they'd probably say no. So, we'd be better off to do this without involving legal (or illegal) contracts that our superiors might object to."

Father John laughed and nodded. He told her that he'd been up against the Byzantine bureaucracy of the Church enough times to know that flying under the radar was usually wise whenever it was possible.

The ensuing weeks passed in a flurry of activity. The second floor of the orphanage was scrubbed from top to bottom and the children moved from the first floor to the two dormitories on the second floor, with girls on one side of the hall and boys on the other. Then the downstairs dormitories were scrubbed and painted and the nuns moved from the convent into the first floor of the orphanage. There was considerable grousing about the fact that the nuns would no longer have their own rooms, but everyone understood that sacrifices had to be made. There was an infirmary room for the invalids, and a dormitory for the ambulatory nuns. A broom closet and an office were converted into private rooms for ill sisters with contagious diseases.

The first night the priests moved in, Mother Mercy pulled out all the stops in the kitchen. She and the KP Kids made beef stew with Parker House rolls and angel food cake for dessert. It was the best meal some of the children had ever had. The men took the fabulous food for granted, but the nuns and the children were ecstatic for days.

A few of the ultra-conservatives in the diocese tried to stir up some trouble about the living arrangements at St. Mary's, but it was so mutually beneficial, the controversy soon sputtered out. The Orders involved pretended not to notice the situation, because, while it totally unacceptable, it was so financially sensible it had to be allowed to continue. The priests did repair work around the facility that the nuns couldn't do. They mentored the children and each of them "adopted" one of the elderly shut-in nuns for special attention. They said daily Mass in the chapel and heard confessions. With more money to spend, the kitchen crew turned out fabulous meals for everyone. The nuns knitted and sewed and mended and otherwise spoiled the priests.

The arrangement worked for over a decade. Old nuns died and no new postulants joined them. The numbers of orphans continued to dwindle as it became more common for unwed mothers to keep their babies. The few children who arrived at St. Mary's – mostly as overflow referrals from state-run orphanages – were increasingly damaged by abuse and neglect. No new priests joined the monastery, and most of the residents reached retirement age. Without their income from working, the priests had a hard time paying the $3000 rent plus the food bill. The kitchen staff once more cut back on meat and variety, focusing on basic nutrition and cheap ingredients.

From time to time, old nuns and retired priests from other orders joined them. First one or two, and later in groups. Four Carmelites joined them, and their order agreed to add the proceeds from the sale of their convent to St. Mary's endowment. That helped for a while, but soon nuns and priests joined them from other orders that didn't have houses to sell or money to contribute to their endowment. Mercy refused to turn any religious away, but she stopped accepting new children because she knew that they did not have the resources to handle the psychological, emotional and behavioral problems that the children exhibited.

As the resident children turned eighteen, they left . Sister Maggie started working with them when they were fifteen to get jobs, save money and make plans for where they were to go after they left the orphanage. No one in the facility had any spending money, and Sister Maggie insisted that the children save all the money they earned in their jobs and keep none for spending. There were some blistering fights over that, and Sister Maggie won every one of them. The result of that was that in the last few years of its operation, not one child left St. Mary's without money in the bank, a place to live and either a job or financial arrangements for college.

By the turn of the 21st Century, there were no more children in the orphanage. St. Mary's had completely transformed into a home for aged priests and nuns. Their benefactors were generous, but by 2010, St. Mary's housed twenty nuns, two thirds of which were bedridden and the monastery housed ten priests, eight of whom were retired and had an array of health issues. There were no children to work in the kitchen. The cooking, cleaning and maintenance were done by the few able-bodied nuns and priests. Their number decreased every year. Everyone knew they needed to hire round-the-clock nursing on site to care for the sick and aged residents. They barely had enough money for food. Hiring staff was out of the question.

The situation had once again grown desperate. Mother Mercy was in her sixties. She and Sister Magdalene, who was sixty-six, were the youngest women in the convent. Sister Anne was in her late 80's, but still had all her faculties. She and Maggie were Mercy's primary confidants, along with Father John, who was 78, but looked and acted like a man half that age.

One evening after Compline, Mercy asked to speak with them privately. Father John offered the use of the parlor on the men's side of the monastery, which would be private and more comfortable than Mother's office. He asked if they wanted tea. Mercy muttered, "You got any liquor?"

"No. You know that we stopped buying alcohol in the monastery the last time we re-did the budget and had to cut back on the food budget again. I wasn't about to let my guys enjoy their toddies when you and the ladies couldn't."

Maggie said, "Sister Perpetua still keeps bourbon in the dispensary."

Mercy laughed, and, "Yeah, and she'd murder us if we took so much as a drop of it. Actually, we need all our faculties for this conversation. I won't drag this out. You all know we have been on thin ice financially for years. We now have a huge, immediate problem. The boiler failed the fire inspection. It has to be replaced and so does the furnace. The repairs will cost – even with some very generous shaving on the labor costs by the contractor – more than $50,000. The work obviously has to be done before winter. There is no time to waste. We have to take the money out of our endowment to pay for the repairs. You can do the math. That is going to take a big bite out of our already insufficient monthly income."

She paused to let that sink in and to muster the courage to continue without weeping, "I've spent the last three days on the telephone. I started with the diocese. I asked them to give us the money. They said no, for all the same bullshit reasons they always give about not being responsible for members of religious orders. I asked them to loan us the money. They said no, for other, equally bullshit, reasons. Next I called the District Director of our Order. They don't have the money. After that I called your order, John. You guys are on your own. They don't have the money and probably wouldn't give it to you if they did. It appears your Superior is not a fan of you."

Father made a face and said, "I've never been a fan of his either."

Mercy continued. "After that, I called the Superior General of every Order any resident is a member of. The only commitment I got was an offer of a one-time gift of $10,000 from the Carmelites, bless 'em. Hell, they're probably as poor as we are. I took the gift, anyway. That will buy groceries and medicine for a little while.

"I contacted Nancy Jacobson. The economic downturn has about dried up her sources for quick money, but she is making calls. As you know, she has been giving us $20,000 a year from her investment income. She has already paid this year's money. She promised to move some money around and pay next year's donation early. She said it may take a month or so. Again, that will help in the short term, but it's not going to get us out of this hole.

"Lastly, I called Christina Baldera. I haven't talked to her in a long time. I wanted to find out if there was any source of money that she knew of. It turns out that she has sort of become an advocate for old people. After the Church hounded her almost out of her legal career, she started a solo practice helping old and disabled people get the federal money they are entitled to, and also helping them deal with hospitals and insurance companies. Actually I think the work she did for us got her started down that road.

"We talked for a while. I explained our situation and what I had done. She stopped me at one point and asked me how many different religious orders are represented among our residents and which ones. I had never enumerated it before. Our motley crew includes Franciscans (nuns, priests and a brother), Carmelites, Benedictine, Augustinian, and Sisters of Mercy. Christina was amazed and amused that such a diverse group could live together peacefully. I told her we're too old, poor, and dependent on one another to fight.

"Then the subject we have danced around for years came up."

They were all quiet for a long time. Finally Maggie said, "Mother, if we don't have the money to eat, how are we going to finance a lawsuit against the Catholic Church? They have more money than God. Shoot, they have God's money. And they will use it to crush us."

Mercy nodded. "One of my fears when we considered this years ago was that we would all be expelled from our Orders. I know now, that we've been worse than expelled already. We've been abandoned by the Orders and the Church we served our entire lives. Having got over the fear of expulsion, and not really giving damn about ex-Communication. I told Christina I'd consider it, but I asked her how we could pay for it. She gave me a very interesting answer.

"It seems that Mrs. Baldera didn't knuckle under and give up when the Church came down on her like it did. She's been waiting. And planning. And preparing. She has known for a long time that somebody, somewhere, sometime would be desperate enough to go after the Church like the sexual abuse families did. She told me she hoped it would be a religious order. We are even better because we come from so many Orders and we have been utterly left out in the cold for years. We are the perfect group of plaintiffs.

"Over the years, when Christina was active in prosecuting priest abuse cases, she developed very good relationships with her clients. When each of them got their settlements, she asked them to contribute a share of it towards a war chest she wanted to build to finance a lawsuit against the Church on behalf of another group it had abused. She didn't know or care at first what group it might be, but she wanted to be ready with the money to fight the battle when the time came. As years went on, she came to believe that the group most aggrieved by the Church, and most sympathetic to prospective jurors, was aged religious who live in poverty almost everywhere in our country."

Father John interrupted, "She wants to file a class action!"

"Yes, sir."

"She has built up quite a large pot of money to finance the lawsuit, and, once she decided the lawsuit would probably involve old religious, she started doing legal research. She's ready. She told me she actually has gone so far as to write the legal argument for why the case should be certified as a class action. The only thing she'll need is consent from one or more of us to be the lead plaintiff or plaintiffs. The lead plaintiffs will have to be willing to tell the details of their stories in public, to the court and also to the press. We are not going to be able to win in Court alone. The Church will tie us up for years. Christina believes that we will need to take the fight public.

"It will be ugly. None of us will have any privacy for probably the rest of our lives. We'll be dragged through the mud by the Church's lawyers and by the press that the Church can influence. Our lives will be hell. Ultimately, there will probably be a settlement, but it may not come in time to help us."

She paused for a long time and said, "Christina told me that she just turned sixty. She is ready to retire. If we don't agree to sue, she will give us the money that she would have spent on the lawsuit."

Nobody said anything for a while. Eventually, Sister Magdalene said, "Okay, I'll bite. How much is it?"

"It's one and a half million dollars."

Sister Magdalene raised her eyebrows, "That's not enough to prosecute a class action."

"Christina will not charge for her time, plus she has commitments for more money once we get started. That's just the money she controls now."

Sister Anne said, "One point five million dollars will sufficiently replenish our endowment to get us through."

Sister Mercy said, "I figure it would be enough to cover our current expenses, but we can't continue to do all the cooking and cleaning and maintenance ourselves. Even Maggie and I are getting too old to go at the pace we do. It would certainly allow us to breathe for a while, but we would not be totally out of the woods. We need to hire staff, and that won't be enough. By the way, Christina is going to look into grants that may pay the salary for a staff nurse."

They were quiet for a while in the comfortable way of people who know each other well and have the patience to allow one another time to think before continuing the conversation.

Father John stared at Mercy for a long time and asked almost in a whisper, "How many others are in the same boat we are?"

Mercy had been studying her hands which were folded in her lap. She replied without looking up, "Christina has the names and addresses of fifteen thousand. She believes there are a lot more."

The silence pulsed around them. They all seemed to be holding their breath. Then Mother Anne sighed a long, sorrowful, old-lady sigh and said, "Then it's kind of a no-brainer. We can't take the money and use it for ourselves. People gave that money to Christina to use in a lawsuit against the Church. There are thousands of people like us. Maybe they're too timid or to devoted to the Church. Maybe they just don't know where to start. For sure they don't already have a professional relationship with an attorney like Christina Baldera."

Mercy pursed her lips and said, "A bunch of decrepit old nuns and priests who have devoted their lives in service to the Church and who are now living in poverty because the Church has abandoned them will be very sympathetic. The press will have a field day with that. The Church will put us under a microscope. Everything any of us has ever done or said will be subject to publication. Any one of our residents who has ever been in trouble with their Order will be subject to questioning about it. We will all have to testify under oath, and they will ask us some terribly embarrassing questions, I am sure.

"Before we move forward, Christina wants to interview each of our residents in detail. I know that St. Mary's was always kind of a haven for nuns who were on the outs with their Orders." She poked Sister Maggie, who tried to look offended but failed. After my conversation with the Augustinian Superior, I figure that you've been in the doghouse from time to time, John."

He made a face, "I've been on the outs with my Order for years. And so have most of my guys. We lived in a house in a community. Augustinians are supposed to live in monasteries. We were a bunch of pro-Vatican II liberal priests in a very conservative Order. Will that be a problem?"

Mercy said, "Probably not enough to keep us from moving forward if we choose to do so. I know that I have never bought into the theology of the Church, I just like the lifestyle of the convent. There are others among the sisters who are similarly, shall we say, not on board with the party line." She was obviously not going to name names.

Sister Maggie said, "Like me."

Sister Anne grinned and said, "Me, too."

"Do any of you know of any others who hold unorthodox religious opinions."

John said, "One of my guys is kind of out there. His theology is almost protestant, but I think he is still a good Christian."

"What about you?"

"Actually, my faith is pretty orthodox. It's just progressive."

The three women smiled at one another. The silence engulfed the group once more. Sister Anne asked Mercy, "What do you think we ought to do about us?"

Mercy said, "I have never said anything to anyone other than you and Maggie that would have led them to believe I was anything other that a devoted and devout nun."

Sister Anne said, "Me, either. I have always been very careful."

"You knew about me."

"Honey, I educated you in the faith. You never said a word to me or argued or asked any inappropriate questions. I could tell by the look in your eyes when you were taking instructions. Later you learned to hide your skepticism."

Mother looked at Sister Magdalene. "What about you?"

"I was known as a trouble-maker. I talked back. I was disobedient. But, I never breathed a word to anyone that my faith was anything less than totally orthodox. You can get away with being ornery in the Church. They don't burn heretics anymore, but they have ways of making them disappear into the shittiest most god-forsaken places that can be found, or they drive them out of the Church altogether. I like living in the convent. I elected to keep my mouth shut about what I believe."

Sister Anne patted Maggie's hand and looked at Mother Mercy, "So, the three of us are the biggest obstacle we have."

Father John said, "That may be, but you are also the three strongest leaders our Community has. Without you, this will not get off the ground."

Mercy asked, "Sister Anne, did you ever tell anyone about your doubts about my faith?"

"Father Ted and I discussed it privately, but I never spoke to anyone else about it."

"Father Ted's dead. Do you think any of the living sisters know about any of us."

Sister Anne shook her head. "All of the sisters who were here when you were a child are dead except for Antonia and she's so far gone with dementia, she wouldn't be a reliable witness. Once you joined the convent I have never seen you do anything or say anything to anyone other than me that was anything unorthodox."

Father John asked Anne, "What about you. Does anyone know about your issues with the faith."

"Not to my knowledge. I never spoke of it at all until I told Mercy a few years ago."

They were quiet for a while. Sister Anne looked at Mercy and asked, "So, what do we do?"

Sister Mercy put her face in her hands, and gave every appearance of praying, She looked up and made eye contact with each of the others, "We lie."

Maggie asked, "Should we lie to Christina, too."

Mercy nodded, "Yes. If we have to commit perjury, she can't know because her expression in court might give it away. This is a subject that we have discussed briefly in the past, and it was important that we shared it with one another. Perhaps it made each of us feel less like freaks. I am going to do something I have never once done in the nearly thirty years I have been Superior. I am going to demand, under the vow of obedience, that all three of us will never tell anyone outside the Community of our spiritual struggles and that even among ourselves, we never speak of this again."

The other two women nodded.

Mercy said to Father John, "I would ask you not to tell anyone about this conversation."

"No problem. When they ask me about you three, my response will be that you are the most devoted, faithful, obedient and inspirational nuns I have ever encountered in my life. That won't be a lie. It's how I really feel. You have held this Community together with only sheer determination and guts. And now you are going to lead us into battle with the ..."

Mercy slapped her hand on the table and said, "The first person who start with 'Onward Christian Soldiers' is washin' dishes for a week."

They laughed.

Mercy said, "Before we march off to tilt with windmills and probably get ourselves excommunicated, we need to discuss it with the entire Community. You will have noticed that it appears our Community has sort of morphed into its own kind of Order, consisting of priests, nuns and one monk. We need to have a general Chapter meeting that includes everyone. I think we should hold it in the dispensary ward so the invalids can attend, all but for Antonia who is too distracting and wouldn't understand anyway."

"So your including my guys in the Chapter?"

"Yep, and I guess that make you and me co-leaders."

"Partners."

"We need to do this soon. Can we get it together for tomorrow? What time do Tim and Frank get home from work?"

"Frank's usually home by six. Tim gets home earlier.

"Let's give Frank a half an hour to change and eat supper, then let's meet at 6:30 in the dispensary. Maggie, would you make arrangements to move the beds around and bring in chairs."

"Sure. We have folding chairs in the closet in the Chapter hall."

John said, "We'll help with that."

Mercy stood up, "Okay. I think that's all we can do here tonight. Thank you. I'm going to bed."

She marched off toward the orphanage and was asleep before the other sisters had finished making the final round of checking the locks.

## Christina Baldera

The next day, Mother Mercy presented the issue to the general Chapter in almost the same terms she had presented it the night before. When she was finished, she said, "I want us to be quiet for a while and think deeply about this. It is not common in a Convent to have a really open and honest exchange of ideas and opinions. It may be even harder for us to do it in a mixed group of men and women. The importance of this decision requires that we all be completely candid, and it will require every one of us to agree. I want to know how you honestly feel. What do you fear? What upsets you? I want each of you to speak from the heart. We will begin with fifteen minutes of silence. Then we will go around the room and I want each of you to speak to all of us from your heart. This is not the time to vote. Simply tell us how you feel. After everyone has spoken, we will take a vote. The decision must be unanimous, so we will continue to discuss the matter until we arrive at consensus.

"Anybody have a question or a problem with the procedure?"

One of the priests added, "Are you going to record the votes?"

"No."

"I suggest we conduct the voting the way they do papal elections. Secret ballots that are burned after they are counted. We stay in session until we have a consensus."

Several heads nodded. Mercy asked, "Does anybody object to that?"

"Okay. Silence will begin now. I'll be the time keeper."

The next fifteen minutes passed in something less than total silence. Several women cried. The arthritic fidgeted in discomfort. Some of the medical machines beeped and whooshed.

Mercy alternately watched the clock and studied the people around the room. They had never been all together in one room, and a few of the older nuns were aghast that the men were joining them in Chapter, but she was pleased to see how well the group came together naturally. They had been living together for nearly fifteen years. They knew each others' hearts even if they did not know personal details about one another.

Too soon, Mercy ended the period of reflection by saying softly, "Amen."

They went around the room. The men and ambulatory nuns were sitting in folding chairs between the hospital beds. Mercy asked Sister Anne to go first.

Sister Anne said, "I am terrified by the prospect of suing the Church. I have a good idea how we will be treated by the Church and the press. We will probably be expelled from our Orders and, perhaps, excommunicated. I don't want to do this. But, I believe that we are not alone. All over the country, and probably the world, there are old, sick and disabled religious who deserve care, because they gave it to others their entire lives with the expectation that the Church would care for us when we are no longer able to serve. I believe we have no real acceptable alternative." She looked around the room with a wan smile, "Although I would be delighted to learn that one of you has thought of one."

The sharing took almost two hours. They took several breaks for people to go to the bathroom and patients to receive medication. It was nearly nine o'clock before they got all the way back to Mercy. She said, "My feelings are identical to Sister Anne's. Unfortunately, none of you came up with a more attractive alternative. I thank you for your candor. This was difficult for all of us. Now we have a decision to make. Do you want to vote tonight or think about it and reconvene tomorrow?"

Sister Perpetua said, "Let's go ahead and get it over with." Every head in the room nodded, except for a couple of old ones who had dozed off. John took some score card pads from the game table and Maggie found a box of pens in a desk drawer. They passed out the ballots. Mercy sat motionless with her eyes closed, fighting off the urge to dissolved into tears.

A few minutes later, Father Frank passed around the room with a basket. After all the ballots had been collected he asked, "Who will count them?"

Mercy said. "I will. I want Sister Ann to check them with me."

It was too warm for a big fire and they had no firewood, but Maggie had improvised a small fire in the corner of the fireplace using several old wooden spoons and spatulas. Mercy opened each ballot one by one, and then handed it to Sister Anne. Sister Anne looked at it and then fed it to the flames. Before they were half finished, both nuns were weeping. Each ballot flared for a moment and then dissolved into ash. After the last ballot had burned, Maggie spread out what was left of the wooden spoons and the flames died out. While she was up she picked up a box of tissues from a lamp table, and handed it to Mercy. Mercy took a tissue and handed the box to Sister Anne. She passed it along the line. Virtually everyone in the room was weeping. The tissue box went around the room, like Communion.

When she could finally manage to speak, Mother Mercy said, "We have a unanimous decision in favor of moving forward."

The weeping turned into general sobbing, which Mercy joined.

After a while, Sister Honor asked, "What happens next?"

"Tomorrow I will call Ms. Baldera. She will come here and interview each of us. That may take several days. It may take several weeks before she has anything ready to file with the court. I don't think I need to tell you that this is a matter of the utmost confidentiality. I don't know how many of you are in contact with friends or family outside these walls. If you are, please do not breathe a word of this to anyone."

Everyone nodded.

John said, "Actually, I think we should probably not discuss it among ourselves much either. We don't know about the process and we would just be sharing ignorance and fanning our own fears."

"That's a good idea. I'll arrange for Christina to address a plenary Chapter meeting sometime soon. She can answer all our questions at once. In the meantime, we will go on with business as usual.

"Does anyone have any questions?"

There were none, and Mercy started to adjourn the meeting, when Sister Perpetua said, "It's too late tonight, but I'd like to request that we have a Eucharist for all of us together. We appear to have joined our monasteries together. I think if we are going to move forward together. We should start worshiping together. We will need each others' support."

Many heads nodded. Father John said, "We have daily Mass in the monastery at 7:00 AM. I propose we move it to the Chapel, and do it after Matins."

Everybody nodded. Mercy asked, "Would you care to join us for Matins?"

"We'd be delighted."

And thus, the two monasteries were united: joined in mission, in worship, and ready for the battle ahead.

A few days later, Mother announced during morning Mass that Ms. Baldera would be addressing the Chapter the next evening. They met once again in the dispensary, which was crowded and uncomfortable, but the disabled residents could not navigate the stairs to go to the Chapter Hall in the old convent building.

Once everyone had settled down, Mercy turned the meeting over to Christina promptly. The attorney spent the first fifteen minutes explaining the manner in which a class action lawsuit works, taking time to stop and define legal terms. She invited her audience to interrupt her with questions, and they did. Every person in the room had been a devoted member of their various Orders for decades, some of them for more than fifty years. The stakes for them were about as high as it could get, and they all wanted to be sure they understood fully what they were getting into. Christina answered their questions patiently and honestly.

After the questions wound down, Mother Mercy asked, "I would like to ask you a personal question, if you don't mind."

"Certainly."

"What did the Church do to you personally when you were prosecuting the Gottich claim?"

Christina sighed and said, "You name it. They dredged up every mistake I ever made as a lawyer, and tried to paint me as incompetent. They dredged up every comment I ever made in church that disagreed with the official party line, and they tried to paint me as a bad Catholic. I had a friend who was a man. My husband knew him and was friends with him, too. They took pictures of me with him and tried to paint me as an adulteress. During the period that the lawsuits were the busiest, one of my kids broke her arm roller-skating and another one broke his ankle doing something really stupid in the front yard showing off for his friends. They tried to paint me as an unfit mother. They even had someone from Children's Services come out to investigate my family. Children taunted my kids at school. Some people who had been my friends for years stopped talking to me. My husband left me, and tried to take my children with him."

She looked around the room and said, "I'm being honest with you: When you challenge the Church, it fights back. And it fights dirty."

The room was utterly silent. Mercy let it continue for several minutes. She said, "This is our last chance to back out. Just to make sure we are still on the same page, I would like to take a voice vote to confirm the decision, unless anyone would prefer to do another paper ballot."

No one asked for a paper vote. Mercy said, "All in favor of moving forward."

There was a chorus of, "Ayes."

"Those opposed." Silence fell once more.

Christina said, "Okay, then. Over the next few days, I will meet with each of you individually, preferably in private. Everything you tell me will be subject to the strictest privilege. I will not tell anyone else, including Mother Mercy or Father John, what any of you tell me. I will not divulge anything you tell me in the pleadings without your permission and without giving you the opportunity to review it before I file it with the court. The attorney-client privilege is as serious for me as the privilege of the confessional is to you.

"This will not be easy for any of you. I will do my best to answer your questions and to protect you as best I can."

After a few moments, Sister Magdalene said, "That is all we can ask. I want to thank you for being willing to help us. You have every reason to refuse to help us. You've already sacrificed too much for the Church's victims. I can't believe you are willing to do it again."

Christina looked at Maggie for a minute and smiled, "Thank you for opening that door. I want to make something clear. I prosecuted lawsuits against Father Gottich because I believed that the victims were telling the truth. You would think that people would be very sympathetic to children who are sexual abuse victims, but they aren't. Ordinary people do not want to believe that a priest could do the kinds of unspeakably despicable things that man did to young boys, for years and years. The public wants to believe that priests are all good people who serve God, and most of them unquestionably are. I've met hundreds and hundreds of priests in my career. All but four of them were devoted servants of God and his Church. Of those four Gottich was the worst. He was a monster – a monster that the Church let have his way with children for decades. I won all four lawsuits I filed. The victims received large settlements, which could in no way compensate them for the loss of their innocence but it was some vindication for them because a lot of their friends and families believed they were lying. Pedophilia is an extremely uncomfortable topic for most people to deal with – including me; I had a son in Catholic school at the time I filed the lawsuits. We took on the Church and, to tell you the truth, sometimes I felt more battered by the groups I expected to be on my side, such as the press and secular liberals, than by the Church.

"Church history shows that the Church is vicious in its punishment of people who challenge it. We knew that, and challenged the Church anyway.

"I knew that the victims of sexual abuse were not the only group the Church had abused. I knew in my heart that there were other victims. Victims that might be more sympathetic to the public. Victims whose cases might not be so unpleasant for the public to tolerate.

"When the stories started to be published a decade or so ago about the plight of aging priests and nuns, I knew that was the class of every plaintiffs attorney's dream. I started raising money to finance a lawsuit, and I started doing legal research to be ready.

"There is no way we will destroy the Church of Rome. It is too rich and too strong, and I don't really want to do that anyway because too many people believe in it and depend on it.

"We can, however, try to make sure that the Church takes care of its own. We can and, by God, we will make sure that the Church accepts responsibility for the sisters, brothers and priests who have served her so faithfully their entire lives.

"I promise you, we will win and none of you will have to worry about how you will afford food or medical care in your waning years."

She let that hang in the silence that returned to the room.

She added softly, "I have to confess one thing to you because it is the truth and you deserve to know it. I am not doing this for the money. I made plenty of money on the sexual abuse cases, and I've done pretty well with my private practice in the intervening years. I am not going to charge for my time prosecuting this case. I'll charge for the expenses, and I'll have to hire experts and co-counsel which will cost perhaps millions of dollars. I have commitments from backers for up to $3 million in addition to the $1.5 million I have on hand.

"You served the Church and it let you down. You deserve better.

"I am a product of the Catholic school system from elementary school through undergraduate school." She winked at Father John. "Like you, I went to Notre Dame. Just FYI, my maiden name is O'Leary."

She paused while the chuckling died down. "I'm doing this in part because I was educated by saintly nuns and priests who gave me the best education imaginable, they loved me, they kicked my ass when I needed it, and they inspired me. I want them and all of you to be able to live out your final years without worrying where your next meal is coming from. I will go to the mat for you.

"But, I have to be completely honest with you. I know we can't bring the Church to its knees. But I think that if we expose the egregious way it is treating its own religious, it will create a massive public relations problem for the Church. That's what I want. I want the Church to squirm and to bleed money into your purses.

"The Church's actions ruined the lives of a bunch of little boys in our diocese, four of whom committed suicide. When I called bullshit on that, the Church came after me. I lost my job, my husband, most of my so-called friends, and I almost lost my children.

"In short, ladies and gentlemen, I'm in this for revenge. You deserve to know that, because my motivation means that this is going to be a no-holds-barred, kicking and biting legal blood-bath. I guarantee it."

No one said anything for a while. Mercy started to end the meeting.

One of the priests interrupted and asked, "Ms. Baldera, I doubt that you still participate in the Church, but in my life as a priest, I have never embarked on any important project with another person or group without sharing Eucharist with them. Would you be willing to participate with us in an impromptu Eucharist."

She smiled, "Father, I would be humbled and privileged to share Communion with such a courageous group of people, if you are willing to administer the Sacrament to a divorced woman."

Sister Mercy said, "You're divorced, not remarried."

Father John said emphatically, "Not that it would matter in this Community."

They scurried around for bread, wine and prayer books. There was no music during the service until the quiet time following Communion when the priests were cleaning the Communion vessels. One of the nuns started singing _Panis Angelicus_ in Latin. Everyone else joined in. A few of them were surprised to notice that Ms. Baldera knew the words as well.

At the very end of the service, Father John said something softly to Mother Mercy. She grinned, lifted her arms and said, "Let us go in peace to love and serve the Lord." The congregation said, "Amen."

Mercy added, "And let us make war on our Lord's enemies."

After a moment's hesitation, the responsive "Amen" echoed from the ceiling.

Christina started the interviews the next day.

She had already spoken to Mother Mercy in some detail and had a pretty good idea of how she would fit into the picture. The nuns were nervous about the interviews, so she started with them, the oldest ones first. Gradually she worked her way through the women's side of the monastery, ending with Sister Magdalene, whom everyone considered from the beginning to be a Wild Card out of the entire group. She would either make a fabulous witness or she'd need to be kept in the shadows completely.

After interviewing Sister Magdalene, Christina thought she might turn out to be the Ace in the hole. Sister Magdalene's story was sympathetic and would play well with the public, maybe mostly with the non-Catholic public. Sister Magdalene could and would be a great witness telling the truth and nothing but the truth. Sister Magdalene could also lie, and had no particular moral qualms about doing so. She had learned to tell the Church what it wanted to hear, whether it was true or not.

After she finished with the nuns, Christina worked her way through the men's stories. Father John rescheduled his appointment several times. Eventually, after Christina had interviewed everyone else, she confronted him, asking why he was ducking her. He told her that he was willing to talk to her, but he wanted Mother Mercy to be present during his interview. Christina didn't like to have others present during her sessions with clients, but since Mercy was a client, too, she agreed to make an exception.

She used the same basic outline of questions for all the interviews. Family background. Education. Professional resume. Disciplinary history. With Father John, she skipped all that and started out with, "Okay, what do I need to know about you? What is it that was so important you wanted Mother to be present."

He hesitated for a long time. "I am John Gottich's first cousin."

He waited while that sunk in with both Christina and Mother Mercy. Then he continued, "We were never close. In fact, I barely knew him because his mother and my mother feuded my whole life. We had very little to do with his family. I met him a few times at family weddings and funerals. He was already a priest when I was in high school, so we had no reason to be close. When I was contemplating my vocation, I called him to see if he would be willing to talk to me about his life as a priest, and he blew me off, telling me that a mentor in the discernment process should not be a relative. After I was ordained and before he was arrested, we chatted a few times at Church functions. I had no knowledge whatsoever of his criminal activities, but I think my relationship with him may make me somebody you don't want in your lead plaintiff's group."

Mother Mercy started to argue, but Christina held up her hand.

"Have you ever worked with children?"

"I was a teacher in a Catholic boys high school for most of my career."

"You indicated you are not on good terms with your Superior. Why is that?"

He paused, "Because my Superior is a manipulative asshole who takes advantage of women. He's not a pedophile. He's essentially a rapist."

"And he knows you know this?"

"Yes, because I reported him to the Order."

"Obviously, the Order did not believe you."

"No. They didn't. They marked me as a trouble-maker and I ended up with all the shittiest assignments they could come up with. Then when you went after Gottich and they found out he was my relative, they painted me as a pedophile as well. They removed me from the school where I taught, and sent me to work in an inner-city medical clinic and crisis center." He laughed, "Actually, I loved it. I hated teaching spoiled kids of well-off parents in expensive private schools. I loved doing a job that could really make a difference in the lives of people who needed me.

"In approximately 1978, I moved out of the monastery and into an apartment with some other priests who were working in the inner city. I've lived in Community-based housing ever since, almost always with priests from more than one Order.

"If you want me to move out so you can move forward without my relationship with Gottich complicating matters, I'm okay with that. I have a friend who runs a drug rehab clinic in Dallas. He's invited me to become the chaplain there. I've tentatively accepted."

Christina thought about it for a long time. Father John waited patiently for her to say something. Mercy looked like a blow-fish, but she, too, waited for Christina to finish thinking.

"Did anyone ever file a complaint against you?"

"One student's parents file a complaint saying that I treated him unfairly when I refused to give him a pass to play football even though he had not passed one of my tests."

"You were vindicated?"

"Absolutely."

"Was anything put on your record when the Order moved you from the school to the clinic?"

"No. The Superior wanted to put a note in my file, but the Director General nixed that on the advice of counsel."

"When was the last time you saw Father Gottich?"

He sighed, "I saw him briefly at his mother's funeral. My mother did not attend, but I felt obligated to go for some reason."

"Do you know why your mother and his mother were not on good terms."

"Generally, my mother said that her sister was a lying, sleazy whore. But, she never gave any specifics, and I never asked."

"It had nothing to do with Gottich's behavior."

"No. My mother hated her sister before Gottich was even a priest."

Christina was quiet for a long time. "Did anyone else in your mother's family hold themselves aloof from Gottich's mother?"

"Most of them. She was definitely the black sheep of the family by all of them except for one of the uncles."

"I'm guessing that would be Uncle Ron."

"How do you know him?"

"Men do not become pedophiles in a vacuum. Most pedophiles were abused as children. Your Uncle Ron abused Gottich from the time he was about six until he went to seminary."

"Did my aunt know about it?"

"I was never able to conclusively prove that she did, but I think she had to. Quite honestly, I think she and her brother had a long-term incestuous relationship."

"Oh, my God."

"Monsters like Gottich are the result of some very complex things in their own history."

Silence fell again for a while. "Do you think I should leave?"

Christina said, "On the one hand, it would be easier if you left because we would not move forward under the specter of Gottich. On the other, I don't want it to appear that we are shoving people aside or trying to sweep things under the rug."

"My mother is still alive. Barely, but she is hanging in there. She's in a nursing home in Cleveland. I don't want all this terrible stuff about her sister and brother to come out where she might find out. I think it would be better for me to leave."

Christina nodded. Tears filled Mother Mercy's eyes. Father John bowed his head and twisted his hands in his lap. "I'll make the arrangements to leave as soon as possible, before you file the lawsuit."

Mercy said, "We will plan a farewell party for you."

"I'd rather you didn't. I don't want anyone to know the reason I'm leaving. I would rather tell them that I've had second thoughts and I am pulling out."

Father John left without fanfare a few days later. The most senior priest in the monastery requested a meeting with Mother Mercy. She suggested that they have coffee in the parlor in the monastery after Mass. Father Frank, Brother Tim, and Father Scott made up the deputation from the male side of the Community.

Mercy said, "I'm assuming this has to do with who will take Father John's place as Superior of your monastery."

"It does. Actually, we would like to propose that I will be the President of our group of priests. If any other Brothers join us, they can organize themselves with Brother Tim. We propose that you be the Abbess of the combined monasteries."

She laughed, "In other words, you're not going to help me at all."

"We'll help as much as we can. We'll say Mass every day. We'll minister to the sick. We'll do maintenance around the buildings. We'll paint and fetch and clean. We'll even learn to help in the kitchen if you dare to let us. But, not one of us has any administrative skills. We're pastoral counselors, drug treatment facilitators and hospice workers. Not one of us can balance a checkbook or even begin to understand a budget. John did all of that."

Mercy nodded, "Okay. I want you to turn over your bank statements to me. Maggie and I will oversee your finances in the same way we do the finances for the various nuns who live here.

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, I guess."

She went back to the building she still thought of as the orphanage, annoyed and irritated that she was being once again put in complete charge of a bunch of people who didn't seem to be able to cope with the real world. Instead of bucking up and learning – the way she had –, they preferred to turn over responsibility to her.

She spent the day attending to one thing and another. After Compline, she had gotten in the habit of having tea in her office with Sister Magdalene and Sister Anne. That evening she ranted for quite a while about how annoyed she was that the men were adding to her burdens.

Sister Maggie said, "Well, maybe it's not an altogether bad thing. Because we always saw them as a separate monastery, we were careful not to ask for too much work out of them. Father John was willing to be helpful when it was obvious that help was needed, but he often didn't notice little things that needed doing. We didn't ask. If the men are willing to submit to your authority as Abbess – which I like, by the way –, we can assign them to work in the kitchen and to do other chores that we wouldn't have been able to do otherwise."

Sister Anne said, "What if they refuse?"

Mother said, "Where are they going to go? I think you're right, Maggie. Let's fully incorporate them into the life of the Monastery, and make them change the damned light bulbs in the women's side of the house."

After that, everyone started referring to the Community as a single monastery, and no one made a distinction between the women's side and the men's side. Mother Mercy was clearly the person in charge.

A few weeks after the initial meetings about the lawsuit, Christina requested permission to address the Chapter. Mother called a plenary session, which convened in the Infirmary as had become the custom. Christina informed them that she had the complaint ready to file. She had decided that Mother Mercy should be the lead plaintiff, suing both in her own right and as the Superior for the Community. All the others in the Community would also be named plaintiffs. Christina said she wanted to meet with each of them individually to go over the section of the complaint that addressed their situation so she could make sure that she had not misrepresented anything. The next day, she met with each person in the monastery, one by one, to carefully go over the paragraphs in the complaint that applied to them. She noted the necessary corrections. Two days later, she addressed the Chapter again and told them that she planned to file the complaint the next day.

That announcement was met with silence. After a few minutes, Sister Magdalene said, "I think we need Communion."

Father Frank officiated at an impromptu Eucharist having as its purpose to bolster morale and fortify them for the ordeal that they knew would come.

## The Lawsuit: Round One

Mercy was a little surprised that nothing happened immediately after Christina filed the lawsuit. She had steeled herself for a torrent of vituperation from the Church, but nothing happened. At least not that she was aware of.

In reality there was a lot going on that the members of the monastery did not know about. They didn't watch TV. They didn't listen to the radio. Sister Magdalene and one of the priests were the only ones who had been in the habit of reading the newspapers previously, and they decided to give up reading the papers for a while.

The initial tsunami of news stories was orchestrated by the Church. The message was that the Church took care of its own, but this lawsuit was filed by disgruntled religious who were disobedient and failed to follow the Church's rules. The Church painted them as greedy and cantankerous old people who were grasping for a bigger piece of the pie, to the detriment of those who needed the Church's help more.

That was followed almost immediately by investigative reports from news agencies all over the country exposing widespread poverty among elderly religious men and women. Some of the exposées were so well done Christina contacted the writers and signed them on to be witnesses in the portion of the case that would involve certifying the class of similarly situated plaintiffs. Christina had told the members of the Community that she would expect them to tell their stories in public, but she wanted to hold that back until the time was perfectly ripe. In the meantime, she suggested that they stay indoors as much as possible, and not watch TV or read the newspapers.

The few priests who had still been employed in outside jobs retired. Some of them had been doing volunteer work at the local clinic, but they stopped going there. Instead, the entire group huddled together inside the monastery. Since they had no jobs and no orphans to take care of, they undertook for the first time ever to keep a true monastery schedule. They prayed the hours every day. Every able-bodied person in the monasteries went to six services a day plus morning Mass. In between services, they cooked, cleaned, took care of their sick, and then they gathered to pray again.

Three weeks after the lawsuit was filed, one day Mother Mercy opened the mail to find ten checks totaling $50,000. The notes accompanying the checks offered support and best wishes from Catholics all over the country who said they felt that the way the Church was treating its retired religious bordered on the criminal. Mercy deposited the money in the monastery's checking account and sent the letters to Christina.

A coterie of press and photographers started hanging out in front of the orphanage. If anyone had to leave, they started going out through the back of the chapel which led onto an alley by which the residents could exit onto a street on the opposite side of the block. They gave Christina the directions, and she made it a habit to park some distance away and walk to the alley. They were amused to learn that no one in the press ever figured out their secret entrance.

As time went on, the residents found less and less reason to leave the monastery. They had groceries delivered. A nurse practitioner from the Council on Aging visited twice a week to take care of their medical needs. They stayed inside and took care of one another.

The Church's lawyers hired private detectives to investigate every one of them in the hopes of finding some dirt that could be used against them. The residents of the monastery were blissfully ignorant of the storm raging outside their walls. They trusted their attorney to take care of them. They felt no need to keep up with the news.

Christina kept Mother Mercy and Sister Magdalene apprised of the news, at least in a digested and highly sanitized form. Mercy suspected that Sister Maggie was keeping abreast of the news surreptitiously, but Maggie never admitted it. Over all, the coverage in the secular press was generally in favor of the plaintiffs. Hardly a day went by when an individual or a small group of elderly religious didn't contact the monastery or Christina to ask how they might join the lawsuit. Christina sent letters out to every one of them explaining in detail how the process worked and promising to put them on the mailing list for notification if the class were certified, and offering to represent them individually if the class were for some reason not certified.

Since Christina had only one secretary and an associate she had brought on board for the lawsuit, the Community helped by handling correspondence to other religious who inquired. They could all type, but they had ancient computers that barely worked. None of them even had a CD burner. Christina bought them three new basic desktops and three laptops. She said she wanted them to back up all their work so she could save it on her server. Mother asked how they could do that. Christina told her the easiest way to do it would be for them to email their daily work to her.

Mercy laughed and said, "We don't have Internet access."

Christina did a double take, and looked at Mercy with her mouth hanging open. "It never occurred to me that someone does not have access to the Internet in this day and age!"

"Well, we don't. A couple of the priests sneak off to the library to use the computers. They do email and play games or whatever there is to do on the Internet. I don't know because I've never seen it." She giggled. "I tease them about looking at pornography on the computers and they get mad at me."

Christina shook her head and said, "I'll set you up with access on one computer and then we'll network the rest of them."

Mother shook her head. "No. Maybe after the case is over we can do that. Right now I think if we had such ready access to news and information, the temptation to use it would be too great. I think we're better off staying in our bubble at least for now."

Christina smiled and nodded, "You haven't been the Superior of this convent for thirty plus years without accumulating some wisdom."

Sister Magdalene walked into the room with a stack of mail in one hand and a single envelope in the other. She looked terrified. Mother took the letter and looked at the return address and said, attempting (and failing) to sound ironic, "I wonder whatever this could be." Her words came out bitter and hard.

She ripped open the letter from the head of her Order. She scanned it quickly and handed it to Christina, saying, "Well, I guess on top of all the other stuff we have to do, we need to find a place to live. The Order is evicting us from the convent because I illegally sublet it to the priests."

Christina said, "The Order only owns the convent house and the chapel, right?"

"Right."

"Who owns the orphanage?"

"I always assumed it was owned by the diocese. Catholic Charities did all the social work." She paused, "I figure we can expect a little greeting like that from the bishop soon, too."

Christina said, "I'll check into the ownership. If the diocese owns the orphanage, we need to find you all a place to live, pronto."

Maggie said, "Actually, maybe we should let them throw us out on the street. That will only help our case, I would think."

Christina said, "You bet. If they try to evict you, we will force them to serve the eviction notice and we will let them move all your stuff out on the sidewalk. We'll have news crews in front of the building taking pictures of your bed-ridden and wheelchair-bound residents being removed from the building."

Mercy said, "Well, at least with all the money that has been donated recently, we do have the money to move."

Christina said, "I have an idea! There's a building that used to house a for-profit nursing home that I pass on my way to work. It is small and kind of run-down. The state closed it because the people didn't have the proper licenses. It's all on one level. It would be perfect for your needs, I bet. Maybe we could pick it up cheap. I'll check it out."

She added, "By the way, just for the sake of not giving in too easily, I'm going to respond to your Superior on your behalf, objecting to the eviction and begging her to reconsider. I'll threaten to sue, but we won't do it because you did sublet the convent illegally."

"There was never a lease. I never sublet anything. I just let the guys move in."

Christina shook her head, "Do you know what remarks like that do to a lawyer?"

"Think about it. Maybe we do have some argument. They never signed a lease. I just let them use that side of the facility because the sisters couldn't manage the stairs."

"I'll throw that out there, but don't expect much. Let me know if you get a similar love note from Elkins."

Maggie asked, "Should we start looking for a place to live?"

"Let's do that strictly on the QT. I don't want anyone to think that you will voluntarily move. We will make them evict you. Part of me would love for them to literally throw you out on the sidewalk. That press would be awesome for our case, but you do need the security of knowing you have a place to go. My sister is a realtor. I'll have her scout around for places without letting on who she's working for."

"Won't people know she's your sister?"

"She has a different last name. I don't think even the Church is following her. Me? Yeah. They've bugged my office twice. I'm so pissed off. I literally can't do business in my office. And I'm afraid they have my home phone bugged as well. I'm going to have to get more space for the run-up to the class certification hearing. I'll probably have to hire security."

Mercy said, "We can't cheap out now. Do what you need to do. We have received a lot of donations, too. So, we can afford to buy a place to live if we have to and you need to rent whatever space you need."

"Okay. I'll check out the ownership of the building in any case."

After Christina left, Mother sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands. She looked up at Maggie and whispered, "Today's one of those days when I really wish I believed in God. Because, if I did, I'd give Him eighty six kinds of hell for letting things get to this point."

Maggie said, "Shhh.

"Changing the subject, Mother. I just discovered that next week Mother, I mean Sister Anne, will celebrate her sixtieth anniversary of taking her final vows. Next month she will turn 90. I propose we make a party for her, maybe on Sunday after Mass."

"I agree. I'll bake a cake. You know how she loves my carrot cake. And we will splurge. See if you can find a good sized frozen turkey. We'll have roast turkey for dinner and then make soup for the next day."

"Will one turkey feed us all?"

"It will have to. You know some of the sisters barely eat anything. One big turkey will do."

"Now, go. I have to open the rest of the mail."

Christina lent them her digital camera and asked them to take pictures of Sister Anne's party. Later in the week, she took pictures of every room in the facility, and all of the residents. She had dinner with them one evening and announced that the hearing on the Church's motion to dismiss was set for later in the month.

Brother Tim said, "I've done some reading on the process of class action lawsuits. If the Church wins its motion to dismiss, we're done, right?"

"We will appeal if that happens."

Maggie asked, "What do you think our chances are?"

"Predicting what a judge is going to do is a dangerous game, but this is a really, really important hearing, and the judge is only granting us one hour of argument each, and we're not allowed to present any witnesses. Our complaint is solid. The Church's motion to dismiss is sloppy and has holes in it both factually and legally. My brief in opposition is one of the best things I've ever written. It helped that Ted McIntyre, my associate, is one of the best legal researchers I've ever worked with. Anyway, I sent the papers to a retired judge I know and he told me that there is no way the judge can dismiss this case without serious legal error. We would have a solid argument on appeal. I've already got Ted working on a preliminary draft of an appeal brief."

Maggie asked, "What will the hearing entail?"

"Basically the Church will summarize its bullshit argument for why we shouldn't be allowed to sue it. I'll summarize our reasons for why we think we should be allowed to proceed. The judge will have the opportunity to ask questions. He will probably not rule immediately. Then we'll wait to receive his decision."

"I have to warn you, if he denies the motion, the Church will probably appeal, so the process will not go quickly."

"What do you know about the judge?"

"We have a really good judge. He's Jewish. Which I like. There are two Catholics and two Protestants on the court. I didn't want any of them. In addition to Judge Goldberg, there is one other Jew on the court and another judge who does not practice any religion but describes his faith as Unitarian. I would have killed to have gotten him, but Judge Goldberg is wonderful. I like him. I've argued before him in the past, and he's been very fair."

"Did you win or lose?"

"I've argued two cases in front of him. The first one was an insurance case when I was a young lawyer still wet behind the ears. I did a decent job, but I lost, because I had a really shaky case and my client was an absolute jerk. The jury hated him, and so did I." She stopped and smiled, raising her eyebrows in a conspiratorial way, "The second case I had that went up before Judge Goldberg was the first case against Gottich."

Father Tom blurted, "You have the same judge as with Gottich!"

"Yep." She grinned. "And I'll tell you that the reason it has taken so long to get to the Motion to Dismiss stage is because the Church has been fighting every which way it can to get Judge Goldberg off this case. I am actually surprised the Church has not taken that issue up on appeal. The problem is we can't get another judge. The Catholics have both recused themselves. The Unitarian judge is up to his eyeballs in an anti-trust class action that is going to go on for a long time. He is not available. Judge Cohen is eighty two and semi-retired. He will not take a class action. That leaves the Protestants, and neither the Church nor I want them."

"Why?"

"Three of them are very conservative Christians and, potentially, anti-Catholic. The other one seems to be kind of not very religious. He might be okay, but the stakes are too high on both sides to take the chance. I think, frankly, we'd do better with a Protestant judge than the Church would, because a bunch of old people getting jerked around by an institution are sympathetic no matter what. But, some Protestants might say that when you signed on to be nuns and priests you promised to be poor and obedient. You made your bed, as it were."

Father Tom said, "That's what the Church tells us."

Christina laughed, "Actually, the Church has argued in court that it is taking care of you just fine. I cannot believe that it was so stupid as to argue that when we should have such an easy time refuting it. Of course the Church keeps its finances more secret than the Pentagon keeps the recipe for the Bomb, but I have your financial records going back forever. I have also subpoenaed financial records from a bunch of other Orders in Ohio. Some of the Orders do support their elderly members. Some don't. The fact is that most of the religious Orders are in such dire straits financially, their younger members are supporting the elderly. There is not enough endowment money."

"The Church doesn't support the Orders?"

"It does not appear that the Church gives money to its religious Orders. Actually, as near as I can tell, it's the other way around. The Orders pay the Church, just like the dioceses pay Rome."

Mercy held up her hands, "You mean to tell me the churches in America pay money to Rome?"

"Yes, of course. Every parish has to pay an assessment to the diocese for diocesan operations. The dioceses have to pay an assessment to Rome."

Father Tom laughed, "I was a parish priest for a few years early in my career. It make sense for the parish to support the diocesan operations, because the parishes get services from the diocese. We looked at it as paying our taxes. But, as far as we could see the American Church gets zilch from Rome. The faithful pay in, but they get nothing back. I remember getting drunk with a bunch of my colleagues one night during a diocesan retreat. We spent some time discussing exactly what we got in exchange for the money. One of the guys suggested it was essentially a licensing fee entitling us to call ourselves Roman Catholic. A few of us thought we should secede like the English church did, and become the American Catholic Church. It would save us a ton of money."

"Rome takes our people's money and gives us nothing in return? That is ridiculous!" Mercy sputtered until she coughed.

They all laughed, but then Christina said, "We are up against an institution with all the money it needs to drag this out for years and years and bleed us for millions."

Sister Anne asked, "What chance to we have against that?"

Christina smiled and shook her head, "Interestingly, I think our chances are pretty good, to be honest. We truly have right on our side. We also have a lot of friends, none of whom, individually, has as much money as Rome, but there are a lot of them. I have collected some amazing evidence and I have a couple of wonderful experts who will be able to present it powerfully.

"The other thing we have going for us is all of you. It's getting close to the time when we're going to have to take your stories public. We need to put the pressure of public opinion on the Church to prevent it from appealing every decision all the way to the Supreme Court. We want a clean record at the trial court level. The Church wants to nitpick and delay and stall at every step. That will work against the Church if we can get public opinion riled up against it for jerking us around."

Sister Anne asked, "What will that involve?"

Christina said, "I'm not really sure yet. I'm meeting with a public relations firm this week to discuss our strategy."

She paused, sipped her coffee and then grinned, "I have been holding out on giving you some good news because I wanted to deliver it in person. I looked into the ownership of the orphanage building. The building had been on a long term lease to the diocese. The lease expired four years ago and the property owner refused to renew it. The diocese has no control over the building."

Brother Tim asked, "Do you mean to tell us that we are essentially squatters?"

Christina smiled and said, "Well, I guess, technically yes, but in actuality, you are safer living in this building than if you owned it."

Mercy raised her eyebrows and asked, "How so?"

"The building is owned by the William and Caroline Landon Family Trust. William Landon's parents came to America from England and made money at everything they touched. They were unable to have children, so they adopted four children. William was one of them. He lived in this building from the time he was about three until he was adopted at age eight or nine. The orphanage at the time was run by the county, and was evidently something like the orphanage in 'Oliver Twist'.

"When William was an adult, having inherited his father's talent for making money and his share of the father's fortune, he bought the building and leased it to the diocese with the stipulation that the Church would run the orphanage and take care of the children properly. The technical legal reason the Trustee refused to renew the lease was because the Church was in violation of the lease because the building was no longer being operated as an orphanage. In reality, the Trustee wanted to make sure the diocese did not have the power to evict your Community. She did that before we ever decided to sue, in the knowledge that you needed the protection in case we did sue."

Sister Maggie laughed, "Let me guess. The Trustee is Mrs. Jacobson."

Christina nodded, "Yes. Nancy _Landon_ Jacobson. Let me tell you something, in that woman you have a regular Guardian Angel. You don't hear from her or see her often, but she's always out there, watching your back."

Mercy patted Christina's hand, "You are our Archangel Michael, battling on our behalf, and Nancy is our Madonna taking care of us. Win or lose, we are blessed beyond imagining."

Christina sighed, "Thank you. That means a lot. But, I do not plan to lose."

She added, "Now the bad news. I have been in touch with your Order. They want you to vacate the convent. I told them they would have to file a formal eviction. Their attorney called me the other day and yelled at me for half an hour. I told him the only way they are going to get you out of that building will be to go through the eviction process and I told him that he will have to go so far as to send the sheriff to move your stuff out onto the street. I honestly don't think they'll do it, but if they do, it will work to our benefit. We'll have TV crews in the streets watching the sheriff haul your belongings out on the streets, with the priests and Brother Tim standing around, homeless. Then we'll have the nuns come outside and invite you to join them in the former orphanage building. If the sheriff's people won't help move stuff in, I'll salt the crowd with 'volunteers' who will help. It will be awesome publicity for us. Actually, it would be such awesome publicity that I don't think the Church's lawyers will let the Order do it.

"In the meantime, do not move out of the convent, but I think you should prepare the second floor of the orphanage for the eventuality that the men may need to move in there."

Father Tom asked, "Do you need any of that space for your workroom?"

"No. I've decided to rent space closer to the courthouse. You need the whole floor, and this is out of the way for me and my team. Go ahead and move the rooms around. Get the place ready, but don't tell anyone you have a backup plan. In the meantime, continue your normal routine using both sides of the house."

They all nodded. Mercy sighed and said, "Well, at least we won't have to move right away, but I've been thinking about it. When we can, I think we should look at buying a single floor facility that is set up to provide medical care."

"Stay put for now, as long as you can. This old falling-down building will be better publicity for you than a modern nursing-home facility."

After she left, the Community caucused and decided they wanted to be present at the hearing on the Motion to Dismiss. Mercy called Christina on her cell phone and asked what she thought about that. She thought about it for a long time.

"The judge won't let us call witnesses, but the plaintiff has the right to be in court for all proceedings. I think it's great idea. Mother, you can sit at the table with me. The rest of those who come can sit in the front row."

"I gotta warn you, Sister Perpetua is determined to attend. She's in a wheelchair."

"Okay. I'll arrange for a van to pick you up. I'll meet you at the courthouse. Tell Father Jack not to wear the damned cassock. I know he's most comfortable in it, but that is just too old fashioned. Tell him to wear his black suit and collar."

Mercy laughed, "He must be the last priest in America to wear a cassock. Brother Tim can wear his robe, can't he?"

"Yeah, if that's the only thing he's got. But if he's got regular pants and a sweater that would be better. I want you to look old and poor and frail. I don't want you to look like medieval relics who don't belong in the 21st Century."

Mercy howled, "Even if we really are?"

"Especially if you really are!"

On the day of the hearing, the ambulatory members of the monastery (plus Sister Perpetua in her wheelchair) gathered in the parlor to wait for the van. In addition to Sister Perpetua, the group included: Mother Mercy, Sister Anne, Sister Maggie, Sister Lucille, Sister Clarissa, Brother Tim, Father Tom, and Father Jack. The priests wore black suits with clerical collars. Brother Tim wore a gray suit he borrowed from Father Jack, with a white shirt and a pectoral cross. All the suits were old and too big for the men who had withered with age and the simple diet at the monastery.

The nuns from the original group all wore the black habits of Franciscans with old-fashioned wimples and veils. Sister Clarissa was dressed in the white of a Carmelite. Mercy looked at their group. They were old and frail, alright. Their clothes were worn but clean and freshly pressed. They had a dignity and a beauty about them that made Mercy want to cry. These were good, decent people who had been cast off by the Church they had served.

Incredibly, they were strong enough to be willing to stand up and challenge the Church of Rome. She was so proud of them she wanted to jump up and hug each of them. Instead she sat motionless except for the rosary beads sliding through her fingers. Mercy never actually prayed the rosary except in community prayer, but she fingered her beads constantly as a self-calming habit. It almost always worked, and it made others view her as serenely spiritual.

Christina had warned them that they would be greeted by the press. She told them not to stop and not to answer any questions. They were to keep moving forward no matter what anyone said to them.

The van pulled up in front of the courthouse. The steps and sidewalk were full of people, nearly every one of which had cameras aimed at the van. Christina waited on the curb with several men and women on either side of her. They turned out to be security. They made a wedge toward the handicapped ramp. The driver offloaded Sister Perpetua in the wheelchair. Sister Magdalene followed, and pushed the chair toward the ramp. The other nuns followed. Next came Brother Tim and the priests. Sister Maggie had a hard time pushing the wheelchair up the ramp, so one of the security people took over. Maggie fell in line next to Mother Mercy. Mercy muttered, "It would be funny if his name were Simon."

"Stop it. No jokes. Don't make me laugh. You know how prone I am to giggle fits at inappropriate times."

They made their way slowly into to courthouse blinded by strobe lights and overwhelmed by the hail of questions and comments from the press and from the crowd. It seemed to Mercy that the comments were overwhelmingly in their favor. She heard no heckling. But that didn't mean there wasn't any.

They filed into the courtroom. They put Sister Perpetua at the end of the front row, with the rest of them seated behind the counsel table where their Abbess sat with Christina. Christina and her associate, along with their consultants, had made the strategic decision that Christina would always appear in court alone. The judge and everybody else in the courtroom knew that she had a team behind her, but she came to court alone. She also usually only had a small folder of papers on the table in front of her.

The Church's lawyers traveled in a pack. They had local lawyers from Columbus, but their lead counsel was from a blue stocking firm in New York. Typically they had four lawyers at counsel table and another five or six in the front row. They had computer technicians and a cohort of paralegals and associates in the back of the gallery. Other than its attorneys, the Church did not send a representative to the hearing.

Judge Goldberg entered the court and bade the assembly to sit. He looked at the nuns and priests and smiled. "I want to welcome the plaintiff's. I appreciate your coming. It's nice to put faces with names."

The nuns and priests nodded politely.

Judge Goldberg asked, "Is counsel ready?"

The Church's lead trial counsel, Randolph Hunter, a Harvard-educated lawyer in a designer suit wearing a Rolex watch stood and said, "The defendant is ready, Your Honor."

Christina stood, "Plaintiffs are ready, as well, sir."

"Proceed."

Hunter went first. He spoke for approximately half an hour, essentially summarizing the argument from his brief." Mercy thought he was a pompous ass.

When Hunter finished, the judge turned to Christina, "Ms. Baldera?"

Christina stood and said, "I heard nothing in Mr. Hunter's argument that was not in his original motion. I am willing to stand on my brief in opposition, unless Your Honor has any questions."

"I have no questions. I think both parties laid out their arguments in their briefs. I agree that I heard nothing new in Mr. Hunter's oral argument. I believe there are quite a number of triable facts at issue here. Defendant's motion is denied. I will expect a draft of a Case Management Order from counsel with in 14 days. We will schedule a case management hearing for a couple of weeks after that. We are adjourned."

The assembly leaped to its feet.

The session had lasted thirty-seven minutes. Christina had ordered her clients not to react in any way no matter what happened. They were used to obeying orders, and they did. They sat motionless, with impassive faces. Christina told them to wait until the courtroom emptied. She couched it in terms of facilitating the exit with the wheel chair. Actually Mercy thought Christina wanted them to make as big of a splash with their exit as their entrance.

The security team fanned out in front of them, with a big burly guy pushing Sister Perpetua. Christina hissed just before they walked out the door. "Whatever you do, do not smile or make eye contact with anyone. There's a huge crowd celebrating in the street. We are not celebrating. We are simply going through the process. Got it?"

They all nodded. With the security detail making a wedge in front of them, Sister Perpetua in her wheelchair with the nuns behind her, the priests following them and Christina bringing up the rear, they processed to the curb as though they were on their way to church. They moved with the gliding processional steps that had been perfected by generations upon generations of nuns and priests. They kept their heads lowered and their eyes on the ground in front of them. The nuns' wimples hid their faces. The priests stared impassively at the ground in front of them. The cameras followed them all the way from the courthouse doors to the van.

Once she got into the van, behind the tinted windows, Mercy dared to look out at the crowd. They were cheering and holding up signs in support. Some people were throwing flowers at the van. White roses.

Christina hopped in the van with them. One of the security people handed her a large satchel. The van took off and the crowd parted, still cheering and applauding. Not one of the passengers looked up or waved.

Brother Tim remarked, "That was not unlike our Lord's triumphal entry into Jerusalem."

Before anyone could even breathe, Mother cut off further conversation by saying with a bitter tone, "Yeah, and we all know how that worked out for Him."

Silence reigned in the van all the way to the monastery.

It was lunchtime, but no one had been there to cook. Christina had ordered lunch brought in from a restaurant. She opened the satchel and pulled out a large bottle of moderately priced champagne.

"We have a hard road ahead of us, but today ensured we will go down that road. It will be a long, tough grind. Today I think a small celebration is in order."

There was enough wine for each one in the Community to have a taste, even the bed-ridden ones. It was not formally consecrated by the priests, but it proved to be a sacramental moment for each of them nonetheless.

## The Lawsuit: Round Two

Outside the monastery, and without the knowledge of the plaintiffs, a grassroots movement started among Catholics sympathetic to the case. They wrote letters to editors in support of the plaintiffs. Monetary donations came in from all around the country, which Mercy turned over to Christina for what Christina called the "war chest."

They organized prayer vigils. When there were hearings in the court, they showed up to stand on the sidewalks in support of the plaintiffs. The first time Christina heard that they had heckled Church lawyers, she put out the word that the sisters and priests were obedient and observant Catholics. They did not want any heckling or disrespect directed at the representatives of the Church. This was simply a dispute about money, not a vendetta against the Church's authority over the Orders. The plaintiffs wanted everybody to play nice.

Thereafter the support movement adopted the model of the ancient Catholic vigil. They stood silently on the sidewalks outside the courthouse holding roses. Sometimes they prayed the rosary. At some point they adopted the old hymn "Salve Regina" as their anthem. As the attorneys entered the courthouse they would sing:

Hail, Holy Queen Enthroned above, Oh, Maria.

Hail, Mother of Mercy and of Love, Oh, Maria.

Triumph, all ye Cherubim

Sing with us, ye Seraphim

Heaven and Earth resound the hymn

Salve, Salve Regina.

The Church appealed the ruling on the motion to dismiss. The briefing of the appeal took months. The Church used every delaying tactic it could, requesting extension after extension. Finally the court ordered the Church to file its brief or it would uphold the trial court's decision by default. The Church filed its brief the next day.

Christina had 30 days to reply, but she knew what the Church would argue in its brief. She had her legal research ready and her reply brief almost fully drafted. All she and her associate had to do was to tighten it up a bit and rearrange it so it would conform to the specifics enumerated in the appeal brief. She filed her reply brief 36 hours after the Church's brief hit the court docket.

The Church had 45 days to reply. It asked for an extension. Christina objected. The court ordered the Church to file its reply or waive it. Forty five days later the Church filed its response.

Three weeks later the court set a hearing for oral argument in one month. Christina was delighted that the appeal was moving along at such a lightening speed for an appeal. Her clients were frustrated by what they saw as the glacial pace of the proceedings.

The Community decided they wanted to attend the oral argument before the appeals court. Christina agreed that they should attend. She said, "I have to tell you something that I've been holding back on. A groundswell of support has grown up around your cause. We will be greeted by an even bigger crowd than the last time. This time they will be holding white roses and singing "Salve Regina". I want you to process into the courthouse exactly the way you did the last time. Do not react. Do not look at the demonstrators. Don't smile, and for God's sake, don't sing along."

Mercy made a face, "No chance of that! We have a great devotion to the Blessed Mother in this Community but all those insipid Mary songs make us want to puke. The only Mary song we sing – ever – is the _Ave Maria_."

Christina said, "Mother, please keep that to yourself."

On the day of the oral argument, they processed into the court of appeals with the same dignity as before. This time Brother Tim wore his monk's robe. Sister Perpetua was ill and was unable to attend. Mother Mercy chose to sit in the front row with the others, leaving Christina at the counsel table alone. The Church's lawyers and their minions filled up most of the other side of the gallery. The Church's representative was a monsignor Mercy didn't know. He sat at counsel table.

The three judge panel took their seats and the hearing progressed. Two of the judges seemed friendly. The third judge, who was wearing a pectoral cross on top of his robe, openly glared at Christina from the moment he sat down.

Hunter went first, once more summarizing his arguments for why the lawsuit should be dismissed. Basically, he argued that this was an internal Church matter that should be settled internally and not in the courts. His argument ran forty-five minutes.

When it was Christina's turn she said, "Appellees will stand on their brief unless the Court has questions."

No one said anything for a long time. Christina could tell by the body language of chief judge and the woman to his right that she was about to get blasted by Judge Tonola. He said softly, "I have one question for you, Ms. Baldera."

"Yes, sir?"

"How dare you do this to the Church?"

Christina paused for a long time, studying her notes. She pretended not to find what she was looking for, and closed the folder. Then she slowly stood and rested her fingertips on top of the manila folder and said, "Well, Your Honor, we do not see this case as an attack on the Church. My clients are simply asking the Church to fulfill its obligation to take care of them in their old age, after they have faithfully served the Church for decades."

"Your clients are publicly accusing the Church of Rome of wrong-doing. How is that obedient to their vows?"

"My clients may be religious people vowed to chastity, obedience and poverty, but they are also God's children with free wills and they follow Christ. Our Lord walked into the Temple of Jerusalem and found that it was not being operated in a manner consistent with his understanding of God's will. He turned over the tables and challenged the Temple leadership. Our prophetic faith encourages us to challenge those who would use their power and influence in ways inconsistent with the greater good of God's people. Elijah challenged Saul. Nathan challenged David. Jesus challenged the Temple priesthood, the scribes, the Pharisees and pretty much everybody else he encountered – except for the poor, the women, the sick and the sinful.

"I do not view what we are doing as disrespectful to the Church in any way.

"On the contrary, my clients are carrying on the tradition of standing up as God's beloved children and demanding what is right and just and fair for the poor and dispossessed."

Mercy's head was bowed in part because she was very close to a terrible giggle fit at the thought of Christina preaching such a sermon. Christina, like many people who were educated in Catholic schools, had never read the Bible, because Catholic indoctrination involves telling the faithful what the Bible says and what it means instead of encouraging them to read it for themselves. Christina had guessed this judge would ask her just such a question. Mercy and Brother Tim knew the Bible better than anyone else in the Community and Father Tom had a doctorate in Catholic theology. The three of them collaborated on writing the sermon, and explaining to Christina who each of the people were in case there was a follow up question.

Mercy risked a peek at the judges. The chief judge was pursing his lips trying not to laugh. The lady judge dropped a pencil and bent over to pick it up. Nobody else in the courtroom so much as breathed.

Judge Tonola blinked and looked at Christina with a bland look, "Well spoken, Ms. Baldera. Thank you."

The chief judge asked if there were any other questions. There were none. The chief judge said, "Rather than adjourning at this point, I would like to take a ten minute recess and then reconvene."

The judges left the room. The Church lawyers streamed out punching cell phones before they even got to the doors. Christina didn't move, so her clients stayed put as well. They sat perfectly still and maintained absolute silence until the bailiff bade them to rise when the judges returned. The latecomers on the Church's side clattered into the gallery, under the baleful stare of the chief judge. He ordered the assembly to be seated.

"We know that there is a lot of pressure for this matter to proceed with all due speed at the trial court level. I have no doubts that we will probably see all of you here again at least once more before this matter is concluded. In the interests of due process, we have agreed to rule from the bench. We find no error in the trial court's ruling that there are triable facts that defeat the appellant's motion to dismiss; therefore, we are remanding the case to the trial court for further handling. This court is adjourned."

The judges walked out. The stunned lawyers and clients didn't even rise.

Christina still didn't move, so her clients remained seated as though they were in church, heads down, not looking around. The Church's lawyers and representative all but ran for the exits. When the doors had closed behind the last of them, Christina stood up and turned to face her clients. The only people in the court room other then them were the court reporter, who was packing up her equipment, and the bailiff, who was shutting down the judges' computers and straightening up the bench.

Christina beamed at her clients and pumped the air like a female Rocky Balboa. Then she immediately resumed her solemn lawyer-demeanor and said, "Okay. You folks know the drill. No talking. No smiling. No singing."

Maggie quipped, "What about happy-dancing and air-pumping? I'd like to do the Whoopie Goldberg thing from _Sister Act._ "

"You can do that later. At home. With no one around."

They left the courthouse as sedately as was possible, given that they were shuffling behind a security detail that was pushing through a sea of singing and celebrating humanity. For once, the mob switched from "Salve Regina" to the "Ode to Joy". Mercy thought that was at least appropriate to the occasion. The plaintiffs entered the van without seeming to notice the crowd at all.

The following week, as a part of her efforts to dig up evidence to certify the class, Christina served subpoenas on religious Orders all over the country requesting financial information. The Church hired lawyers to file motions to quash the subpoenas. Courts all around the country ruled against the Church and ordered the various religious Orders to produce their financial records. That gave Christina the last piece of evidence she thought she needed to show that there were not dozens or hundreds but tens of thousands thousands of men and women living in poverty because the Church they had served abandoned them when they reached the point in their lives they needed help.

She turned the information over to her forensic accounting expert. He crunched some numbers and came back a few days later with the suggestion that she subpoena financial information from various dioceses. She and Ted McIntyre did some research about that.

They had originally sued the Diocese of Columbus alone with the idea of certifying a class of residents of Ohio who were similarly situated, but they discovered that there were other nuns, priests and lay brothers all over the country who they could show were in the same straits. They decided to attempt to both certify a class and move to amend the complaint to include every Catholic diocese in the United States. They issued a salvo of subpoenas to dioceses all over the country demanding financial information. At the same time, they moved to amend the complaint to include all the dioceses and archdioceses in the US.

In response to their subpoenas, Rome issued an edict excommunicating any Catholic judge in the US who ruled against the Church's objections to the subpoenas.

The Protestant religious Right and many politicians in America viewed that as an assault on American sovereignty. The reaction was immediate and vicious. Anti-Catholic prejudice among Protestants, that had receded to just below the surface of America's Protestant majority since the Kennedy Administration, erupted.

A court in Minnesota, which included no Catholic judges, ordered the local diocese to disclose its financial information. The Church appealed and the appellate court upheld the lower court. The Church appealed to the Minnesota Supreme Court. The Supreme Court refused to hear the case and denied a motion for reconsideration. Eventually, the diocese produced its records. That was the first peek under the covers of Church finances anyone outside the Church had ever had. Christina turned over the information to her expert.

Most of the other state courts simply avoided ruling on the motions. They held their rulings on the subpoenas in abeyance until the federal court in Ohio ruled on the class certification. If the federal court in Ohio ruled in favor of the class, the financial information would be relevant and obtainable in the discovery process, rendering the non-party subpoenas moot. If the federal court in Ohio ruled against the class, the state courts would have an excuse to view the subpoenas as a fishing expedition, and rule in favor of the Church.

The furor among the politicians and the Religious Right flared into an anti-Catholic inferno at the very time when Christina had been planning to start publicizing information about the individual plaintiffs in order to garner sympathy. There were demonstrations outside Catholic churches and several hate crimes against Catholic clergy were reported around the country. The country was not in the mood to be sympathetic toward Catholics, not even poor, old, sick nuns and priests. Maybe especially not nuns and priests, regardless of their situation.

The South Carolina Legislature passed a bill revoking the tax exempt status of the Catholic churches in that state. Before the governor could act on the bill, the Church appealed to the South Carolina Supreme Court.

Liberal Catholics, who saw the Ohio lawsuit as basically an internal matter within the Church, were aghast that it had morphed into a Protestant assault on the Roman Catholic Church in America. The rose-carrying supporters of the plaintiff's begged for calm, going so far as to visit Protestant fundamentalist congregations to try to explain their positions. Some of the middle-of-the road Protestants stood down, but the far right religious Republicans continued to call for all out legal warfare on the Church of Rome itself.

Christina and her legal team were beside themselves with worry. The fury over Rome's attempt to interfere with the American judicial system threatened to divert attention from their case, and potentially lose the public support without which they did not think they could win.

Within days of the appellate court's ruling, Christina filed a motion in the trial court to amend the complaint. Judge Goldberg ruled in favor of her motion just before receiving the Church's notice of the appeal to the state Supreme Court (which held the original action in abeyance). The Ohio Supreme Court refused to hear the case. The Church appealed to the U. S. Supreme Court. The court was not in session at the time, so everything had to wait until October.

That was the time Christina needed to prepare her amended complaint and her motion for class certification. She decided she had enough information to move forward rather than battling the Church all around the country over the subpoenas for financial information. She had enough from the Orders. The Minnesota production was very helpful as well. It wasn't everything she'd like to have, but her expert tole her he thought it was enough to allow him to make some extrapolaltions. She told her clients she wanted to move quickly before the politicians got too much more involved. She was afraid they would revoke the tax exempt status of the Orders, as well, which would throw many more religious sisters, priests and lay brothers into poverty, and even homelessness.

While they waited for the Supreme Court to convene, Christina and her legal team, which had grown to four attorneys, three paralegals and two legal secretaries, worked almost round the clock drafting their papers.

Life in the monastery went on at its typical sedate and predictable pace.

Conservative politicians all over the country introduced bills in state legislatures to revoke the Church's tax exempt status. Right wing Protestant preachers preached hell-fire and damnation against the Church of Rome and Catholics everywhere. One night in late September Christina and her legal team had dinner at the monastery. The group talked for a long time after dinner about what they could do to re-focus attention on their plight and tone down the anti-Catholic rhetoric. No one seemed to have a clue. Mother Mercy said nothing until everyone else had expressed their opinions.

After the conversation lagged, Mercy said, "I've barely ever looked at a TV, but it's my understanding there are shows on TV where people go on and talk and it gets sent all across the country at the same time."

Several of Christina's employees chuckled. She gave them a withering look, and said to Mercy, "Yes. There are a number of shows like that. What are you thinking?"

"Well, you been saying since the beginning that we need to take our stories public. What if one of us – like maybe me – was to go on one of those shows, and make an appeal for everybody to simmer down. Do you think that would help?"

Christina poured more coffee and said, "I've been thinking of that myself. Going into the Supreme Court session we need to get our message out. We want the Supreme Court to refuse to hear the case and force it back into the trial court. One benefit of going public would be to get our message out and hope that one or more of the Justices sees it. Another benefit will be to focus attention back onto the real issue in our case which is about the Church's responsibility to take care of its own. All of that other anti-Catholic screed is diverting attention from your predicament. I think putting you on TV might be a great idea. I have to confess I always thought that your best candidates for TV would be Sister Anne or Sister Magdalene. But, you are the leader of this community. You have a compelling story to tell. And, if you promise me you won't swear or say 'ain't' or 'reckon' even once during the interview, I think you'd be brilliant."

"I'll sure as hell try, but I ain't makin' no promises!" Mercy grinned.

"Knock it off, Mother. This is serious."

"I am serious. The last thing in the world I want is to get my picture taken on TV and have to talk in front of the whole country, but from what you're telling me, people are going crazy out there. If we can do anything to make that stop, we should at least try."

"It is crazy out there for sure. I think it's worth a shot. I'll get my P. R. people to make some calls. Would you be willing to travel to New York or someplace to do the interview?"

"If that's what it takes, but I'd prefer for it to take place here. Maybe we could do it in the Chapter Room. Or maybe my office. I'd like it to include a tour of our facility."

Christina nodded. "Let me see what I can do. I think it's a brilliant idea."

Before the week was out, arrangements were made with _60 Minutes_ to do a profile on the monastery the Sunday before the first Monday in October. A camera crew came to Columbus, and set up in the parlor of the old convent. The priests still lived on that side of the house because the Order had never moved forward with its threat to evict them.

The stress of having to go on TV got the better of Mercy and, for the first time in her life, she took to her bed with a case of shingles. She and Christina discussed whether or not to have Sister Anne or Maggie substitute. Mercy was adamant that she would do it herself, despite her pain.

When the day came for the interview, Mercy was still suffering, but she managed to get out of bed, and dress herself. Her clothes irritated the sores, which were on her torso, but she forced herself to put on her habit and greet the news crew in her office. Sister Magdalene was drafted to take the camera crew and reporter on a tour of the facility because Mother Mercy was not up to walking around too much. They spent a lot of time in the infirmary, where Sister Magdalene introduced the camera to each of the bedridden residents. They stopped for dinner in the dining room with the ambulatory residents, after which they moved on to the parlor of the Convent where Mother Mercy would be interviewed privately, or as privately as was possible with a camera crew, several attorneys and a bunch of curious nuns and priests hanging out in the corners.

The interview was set up in the traditional _60 Minutes_ arrangement: the reporter sat in a wing back chair facing Mercy. Mercy sat in a matching chair, facing the reporter. Cameras behind each of them shot over their shoulders to get full facial views of every question and every answer. Mercy had been told that the segment on TV would last approximately twelve minutes. She was appalled when she discovered that they were going to interview her for a couple of hours, out of which they would pull the best twelve minutes. She decided that she was glad she didn't watch television if that was the way it operated.

The reporter asked her a series of questions which she answered as carefully as she could without sounding like she was dissembling. She concentrated on not dropping g's or saying "ain't". Christina had threatened her with bodily harm if she swore. She was tempted to curse at some point just to see what Christina would do. But, the stakes were too high for fooling around. Mercy answered all the questions – even the stupid ones – politely and more or less grammatically.

When they were finished with her interview, Father Frank took the reporter on a tour of the men's side of the house.

They ended in the chapel, where the Community conducted Compline, led that evening by one of the nuns.

The network shuffled things around and aired the interview on Sunday evening before the Supreme Court went into session on Monday. The entire Community along with its legal team gathered in the infirmary to watch the interview on a large screen TV Christina had brought in for the occasion. Christina started weeping the minute the segment began, and the entire group was sobbing by the time it was over. The network had cut the piece so as to make it very sympathetic without being pathetic. The Community came across as consisting of a number of dignified and courageous people who were battling a bureaucratic institution for fair redress of their legitimate grievances, and nothing more.

At one point during the interview, Mercy turned directly to the camera and made a direct appeal to the American people to ratchet down the rhetoric and let the legal process run its course. Her message was sincere and simple. She looked directly into the camera and into the eyes of the people watching, and she begged them not to sidetrack the lawsuit with other issues.

It was a powerful appeal, delivered in a quavering voice, by an elderly nun who was obviously not well. It had no impact whatsoever on the Religious Right. The fundamentalist Protestants continued to clamber for sanctions against the Roman Catholic Church. Bills were introduced in more legislatures to revoke the Church's tax exempt status.

No one would ever know if it was because of Mercy's appeal or for some other reason, but the Supreme Court agreed to hear the case on the very day it opened its session, and it scheduled oral argument in only two weeks. The Church sent a bevy of high-priced DC attorneys. Christina went alone. As the appellant, the Church's lawyers went first. Christina listened and took notes. Once again, she heard nothing new. The Church's main argument was that it did, in fact, take care of its own and that this was an internal dispute that should be resolved internally and not in the courts. Its secondary argument was cloaked in a lot of legal gobbledygook, but it boiled down to the Church serves God and should not be subject to legal proceedings in civil court.

When it was her turn to speak. Christina stood and said, "I didn't hear anything in Mr. Hunter's argument that we haven't addressed in our brief. I don't wish to waste the Court's time. I'll stand on my brief unless Your Honors have any questions."

There were no questions.

Less than ten days later the Supreme Court issued its ruling. With two judges abstaining, the ruling was seven to zero to affirm the trial court's ruling against the Church's motion to dismiss, and remanding the case to the trial court for further handling.

Judge Goldberg scheduled a case management conference for the following week.

The hearing lasted about an hour. There were seven attorneys at the table for the Church. Christina attended by herself. The judge set a very tight discovery schedule, telling the attorneys that he didn't want to drag this matter out. He assigned a magistrate judge to oversee discovery and told the parties that he didn't want them to play games. He told them to request only the documents they really needed and then to schedule only as many depositions as were absolutely essential.

At the end of the hearing, Christina offered the Court and the Church's attorneys copies of an Amended Complaint naming every Catholic diocese in America as well as copies of discovery requests, seeking very narrow and specific financial information from each of the dioceses. She told the Court that if the church was forthcoming with the financial information she requested, she didn't think she would need any depositions at all other than that of the Church's financial expert or experts.

The Church's lawyers objected to the requests on the spot.

Judge Goldberg took fifteen minutes to review the requests. He came back to the bench and ordered the Church to produce the financial information requested, commenting that he viewed the requests as targeted directly at information that was essential to the case.

The Church's attorneys said they intended to appeal the ruling.

Thirty days later, the Church filed a notice of appeal, with a three hundred page brief. The next day, Christina filed a fifteen page reply brief explaining exactly what her discovery requests asked for and why it was relevant.

The court ruled against the Church without oral argument.

The Church appealed to the Ohio Supreme Court. Within a week, the Supreme Court issued a ruling declining to hear the appeal.

The magistrate judge assigned to oversee discovery in the case ordered the Church to produce the financial information in ten days. Twelve days went by with no information forthcoming. Christina filed a motion to compel and for sanctions. The court set a hearing for the following week. The hearing turned into a shouting match between the Church's attorneys and the magistrate. Christina didn't say a word. The hearing ended with the magistrate ordering the Church to pay $100,000 a day in sanctions for every day that passed before it turned over its financial records.

In the meantime, the Church requested the financial records for the monastery, noticed the depositions of each of the residents and as well as the deposition of the plaintiff's financial experts. Christina produced the financial information the day after she received the discovery requests, and offered to schedule depositions beginning the next day. No one from the Church's legal team called her regarding scheduling depositions.

The Church did not turn over its financial records, nor did it pay the sanctions ordered by the magistrate.

Christina decided that she had enough information without the financial data, and she she didn't really care what the Church's financial experts were going to say because it would all be bullshit anyway.

Without taking one deposition and without receiving any response to her discovery requests, Christina filed a motion to certify the class. The Court set it for hearing.

The sisters and priests wanted to attend the hearing. The legal team was inclined to want them to attend. The public relations consultant agreed they should attend, but the legal consultant Christina had hired to help her with the appeals disagreed. He said he thought Christina should go alone, without her clients. She thought that the hearing that would matter would be the oral argument in the appellate court, because either way the court ruled on the motion, the losing side would appeal.

The hearing was a circus. The judge asked the Church's attorneys if they had provided the discovery responses. They indicated they had not. The judge thereupon ordered the church to pay the plaintiff's sanctions in the amount of $100,000 per day from the original due date of the responses, which turned out to be nearly $900,000.

Then he asked Christina if she had anything to say in support of her motion.

She smiled at him and said, "Your Honor, I put everything I have into that motion. I have nothing to add, unless Your Honor has any questions."

He said, "I have no questions."

The Church's attorneys rehashed their positions for forty-five minutes. When the attorney sat down, the judge glared at the Church's lawyers and said, "The motion is granted, and we are adjourned." He slammed down his gavel and walked out of the room.

The Church's attorneys stormed out. As usual, Christina waited alone at her table until the courtroom emptied, then she left by an exit in the back of the building so she did not have to face the mob out front. It would have been impossible for her to speak through her tears.

Sister Perpetua had been frail and unable to walk for many years, but she had managed to avoid serious illness. That winter, she caught a cold that went into pneumonia. She begged Mother Mercy not to send her to the hospital. They put her in an isolation room and arranged for nurses and a nurse-practitioner to visit her daily. The nuns and priests kept a round-the-clock vigil by her bedside. She died the day after Easter.

For years, the monastery had been burying its dead in the county cemetery, in the cheapest caskets they could buy, and with no ceremonies other than the requiem Mass in the chapel. The public relations consultant suggested they have a graveside committal for Sister Perpetua. Mercy didn't want to do it, and she and Christina had their first argument over that. Mercy did not want to turn Sister Perpetua's funeral into a publicity stunt. She called a plenary Chapter meeting. Most of the nuns agreed with Mercy, but a few of them and virtually all of the men sided with Christina.

By not scheduling their depositions the Church was robbing the plaintiffs of the opportunity to tell their stories to the Court. The legal team and some of the members of the Community believed that the time had come for them to tell their stories directly to the public. Sister Perpetua's funeral would be a good opportunity for them to show themselves to the public once more.

Over Mother Mercy's virulent objections, the Chapter agreed to have a public funeral.

They scheduled it for Wednesday at noon.

The requiem Mass was held privately in the chapel. The only outsiders who attended were Christina Baldera and Nancy Jacobson.

No one in the Community was capable of serving as pall-bearers, so the funeral director brought his employees to carry the casket. The few members of the Community who were ambulatory piled into a van behind the hearse. Nancy arranged for nurses to meet them at the cemetery to assist the old people in walking across the grave yard. Father Frank was elected to do the committal.

When they came outside, Mercy was shocked to find the street was full of hundreds of people holding roses and singing the "Ave Maria". TV news vans lined the street and the van was surrounded by a throng of photographers. She could hear some shouting and see scuffling in the back of the crowd, but she couldn't tell what that was about. When they turned the corner, they were met with a loud angry crowd shouting and waving anti-Catholic signs. At the entrance to the cemetery, they were met with several hundred people holding up signs accusing them of crucifying Christ all over again by attacking his Church. Inside the cemetery were thousands of people, carrying roses and standing silently waiting for the funeral procession to pass.

The elderly nuns and priests, assisted by nurses, made their way slowly across the cemetery behind the casket. The crowd was silent. They could hear the shouts of the demonstrators at the front. Someone started singing the Easter hymn, "Christ the Lord is Risen Today." Soon the entire throng, including the members of the Community joined in. Father Frank read the committal. They started to leave, when the people in the crowd began to file by, dropping roses into the open grave and murmuring words of comfort and support to the members of the Community. It took more than an hour for the crowd to disburse. News helicopters circled overhead the entire time.

They returned to the monastery and Mercy asked them to maintain silence for the rest of the day. Most of them had no problem with that, because they were exhausted and overwrought.

Mercy went to her office, put her head in her hands and wept for more than an hour. At some point during that time Sister Maggie came into the room, sat down across the desk from Mercy and sobbed, too. After they stopped crying, Maggie left the room without saying a word.

The cook Christina had hired for them made soup for dinner, but no one came to the dining room to eat. The only people who ate supper were the sick ones, who were fed by their caretakers.

The news coverage of the funeral clearly showed the way the public had lined up. There was a relatively small but faithful group of mostly Catholics who had supported them from the beginning; they turned out for public events holding roses and singing hymns. There was a smaller but extremely angry and vocal group of conservative Catholics who attacked both the Community and its supporters for their disloyalty to the Church. Increasingly, there was a third group made up mostly of Protestants and political conservatives who more or less ignored the members of the Community, but who turned out at every opportunity to attack the Catholic Church itself. That group had no real interest in the plight of the Catholic religious orders. When asked, most of the leaders of that faction expressed disdain for nuns and priests in general, and indicated that they were getting what they deserved for serving a vile institution like the Catholic Church in the first place.

Christina told them that the time had come to go on television again. She had arranged for a national news show to visit the monastery and interview the residents. The show would air a few days before the oral argument in the appeals court. She also told them she wanted a delegation from the Community to go with her to that hearing.

Mercy said that she'd like to never leave the walls of the Community again or talk to any outsiders. Most of the others agreed with her, but they were in this fight to the end, and they would do what they had to do.

The camera crew arrived and first went through the entire facility filming the residents and staff at their daily activities, praying in the chapel, eating in the refectory, caring for the sick. Six of them were designated to be interviewed: Sister Clarissa, Mother Mercy and Sister Magdalene represented the nuns; Brother Tim, Father Frank and Father Tom represented the men.

The reporter interviewed each of them for about fifteen minutes. Then she asked a few more questions of the group as a whole.

Christina watched from a far corner of the room, behind the cameras. After the last of the camera equipment had been hauled out, Christina put her head in her hands and burst into tears. Brother Tim asked her if they had done poorly.

She looked up at the group with love shining in her eyes and said, "On the contrary, you were magnificent. I'm privileged to be your advocate."

They all cried for a while after that, until Mercy stood up and a said, "This is ridiculous! We have never been a sentimental and emotional bunch and we're sure as hell not going to start now. Let's have lunch and buck up." She turned to Christina, "Who do you want to go with you to the hearing?"

"How about all six of you? You're a good cross section of the community and you can all walk without too much assistance."

Sister Clarissa said, "I use my cane here, but when I'm outside on unfamiliar ground, I feel more secure using a walker, is that okay?"

"Absolutely. I'd rather not fool with any wheelchairs, but a walker will be fine."

Mercy said, "Just take that damned flag off of it."

Christina laughed and said, "I'll probably regret this, but what kind of flag do you have on your walker, Sister Clarissa?"

Clarissa grinned, "My great nephew sent it to me years ago for St. Patrick's Day. It has a shamrock on one side and it says 'Erin go braugh.'"

Mercy said, "That would be fine. It's the drunken leprechaun that could cause some raised eyebrows."

They all laughed until they started crying again.

The network aired the profile of the Community on Monday before the hearing on Wednesday. To Christina's surprise and delight, it devoted two thirds of the hour to the Community and followed it with a final segment profiling a convent in Arizona that was so poor the nuns were getting their food from a soup kitchen operated by a Methodist Church.

On the day of the hearing, Christina arranged for a van to pick up the six representatives from the Community. She met them at the front of the courthouse. Thousands of people lined the streets, some shouting, most of them keeping silent vigil. The six old people got out of the van and walked slowly up the wheelchair ramp. They were early but Christina wanted to get them seated and settled before the Church representatives arrived. She didn't tell them that she had heard the bishop would be in attendance.

They all went to the bathroom and then sat in the front row of the gallery. Christina sat at the counsel table alone. Soon the Church's legal team and representatives filled the other side of the room. The bishop entered last, with several members of his staff. He sat at the counsel table with four of the Church's attorneys.

The judges entered and convened the proceedings. The Church's attorney argued for almost an hour. He sounded shrill and angry. When he was finished, he sat down. The court had no questions.

As usual, Christina announced that she had nothing to add to her brief unless the court had questions. One of the judges said, "I have a few questions for Mother Mercy, if you don't mind, Ms. Baldera."

"By all means, Your Honor. The Church has not deposed my clients. You deserve to hear what they have to say."

She invited Mercy to come and sit next to her at the table. Once she was seated, the judge turned to Mercy and said, "I understand that your Community has benefited from substantial financial donations since you began this lawsuit, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you say that you have taken in enough money to relieve the financial crunch that caused you to file the lawsuit in the first place?"

Mercy thought about that for a long time. Eventually, she said, "I suppose, probably we have, although most of it has gone to pay legal bills. But, yes, I think we could manage now on our sort of beefed-up endowment."

The judge made a note, and asked, "Then why continue with this lawsuit?"

Mercy didn't hesitate, "We filed the lawsuit in the first place because we were desperate. We didn't know what else to do. We did it to try to get ourselves out of a jam and avoid closing our monastery and splitting up. After we filed the lawsuit, Christina told us about all the other nuns, priests and lay brothers around the country who are as poor or poorer than we were. There are nuns and priests living on welfare and going hungry. That isn't right. For us to quit now just because we've got a lot of publicity and people have sent us money would be selfish. I feel like the rest of them are kind of counting on us, whether they even know about us or not."

The judge nodded and said, "You are very brave."

Mercy shook her head hard and said, "No, Your Honor, we're not brave. We didn't want to do this, but we had no alternative. When we started this, we agreed to see it through no matter what. Maybe what we are is stubborn."

The judges all tried – unsuccessfully – not to smile. Christina patted Mercy's hand.

The chief judge looked at the other two, and they both nodded. Thereupon the judge turned to the Church's lawyer and delivered a hell-fire and damnation tongue lashing that left everyone in the room shocked and speechless. He ordered the Church to immediately pay the sanctions ordered by the trial court, which by that point amounted to well over a million dollars. He sustained the rulings of the trial court and remanded the case for further proceedings. He ended by saying, "It is my recommendation that you settle this case soon. This court does not wish to see you again regarding this matter. Do you understand, Mr. Hunter?"

The Church's lead attorney went pale and nodded. The bishop's face was nearly purple with rage. The judges filed out and the Church's side of the room emptied immediately. Christina put her head down on the table and fought for control. Mercy put her arms around Christina. The others joined them, and they had a long group hug. The bailiff asked them to leave so he could go to lunch.

They walked out of the courthouse to a blazing hot, humid summer day. Thousands of people lined the streets. There was no singing. There was absolute silence. The six old people processed slowly to the van with Christina walking behind them. They got into the van. Reporters surrounded Christina demanding her comments.

She said, "We are pleased with the ruling, obviously. We will propose to schedule a settlement conference as soon as it can be arranged."

She got into the van and it pulled away from the curb.

Brother Tim asked, "Do judges do that often?"

Christina was shaken, "I've heard judges lower the boom on individual lawyers or sometimes their clients who get out of line in court, but I have never heard a judge deliver a speech like that."

Maggie chuckled, "You know, I actually found myself feeling sorry for the bishop."

Mercy said, "Let's not get carried away. He had it coming. Christina, you told us that any settlement money will go into a pot to be divided up among anybody who wants to opt in, right?"

"Right."

"I think we should go ahead and set up that pot now. We should put the sanctions money into it for starters."

"I think that's a good idea. We'll go ahead and set up the escrow account with a minimal deposit. I'll write the attorney a letter giving him the wiring information, and copy Judge Goldberg. I'll be sure to put in the letter that we will be depositing the sanctions money into the Trust Account that we're establishing for the Class. We will consider it the first installment on a settlement. That will poke Hunter in the eye and let the judges know that we don't plan to keep the money for our own benefit."

A couple of days later Christina called Mother Mercy, "Are you still refraining from following the news?"

"Yes."

"Then I need to come over and fill you folks in on some dramatic events."

"Come for lunch."

"I'll be there in half an hour. Don't answer your phone or the door until I get there. I'm surprised the press hasn't been calling you yet. I'm going to sneak in through the alley. I'll knock at the sacristy door."

Mercy found Maggie and told her to get everybody ready for a plenary Chapter meeting. Then she went to the chapel sacristy to wait for Christina. She polished candlesticks that didn't need polishing, for something to do.

She and Christina went straight to the infirmary where the Community was gathered. Christina didn't waste any time, "This is totally unrelated to our case, but it could end up changing everything, and not in a good way. This morning the State of South Carolina filed suit against the Vatican accusing it of funneling hundreds of millions of dollars every year out of America and into various foreign bank accounts. They are demanding billions in restitution and they want the U. S. government to revoke the tax exempt status of every Catholic church in America."

The group said nothing for a while. Most of them didn't seem to know what to make of the announcement. Mercy pulled her chin, and said, "Wait a second, if the Church loses its tax exempt status, it will have to pay property taxes on its land holdings and income taxes on donations, right?"

"Right."

Maggie shook her head, "That's bad. They're not going to have the cash to pay the property taxes. They will have to close churches."

Christina nodded. "And their net income will be significantly reduced. They'll be paying corporate income tax rates. Those are steep!"

Brother Tim asked, "What impact will this have on us?"

Christina shook her head, "For one thing, the Church may be more inclined to settle with us because it will need to really focus on the bigger battle in the Supreme Court. On the other hand, the Church may be so distracted by that lawsuit, it will try to stall us."

Maggie said, "The court is imposing $100,000 a day sanctions. The Church better not stall too long."

Christina said, "I am considering withdrawing my requests for the financial information in exchange for the Church agreeing to schedule mediation."

Mercy asked, "Can you do without the financial records?"

"I can. Our financial expert was able to glean enough information from the documents we got from the diocese of Minnesota to make what he believes is statistically defensible extrapolations about the finances of the Church. Our information could be used to prove South Carolina's allegations that the Church is funneling money out of the US. A whole lot of money."

Mercy asked, "Are you going to co-operate with South Carolina?"

"No. Because I don't think it's right to take away the Church's tax exempt status. I'm not the biggest fan of the Catholic Church, but I know a lot of good, faithful Catholics who are deeply nurtured by their churches. I agree with Sister Maggie that if the government takes away the Church's tax exempt status, it will have to sell some of its really valuable property. If the Catholic Church has to start selling off and closing churches, it's not going to hurt anyone but those good, church-going Catholics. I don't want to see that happen.

"I plan to use this situation to our advantage. Since the Church hasn't taken any depositions in our case, I may threaten to file the expert's witness with the court with a motion for summary judgment. That will make the document public. The lawyers for South Carolina will fall all over each other in their rush to the courthouse to get it. Just between us, I'm going to do all I can to make sure that document stays private. I want the Church to take care of you, but I'm not interested in putting ammunition in the hands of the fundamentalist wackadoos in South Carolina who think Catholics are hell-bent, idol-worshiping heathen who have been brainwashed by evil priests and nuns."

Father Frank asked, "Do you think it's true that the Church is sending money to Rome and nothing's coming back."

"From looking at the financial records of the Orders I subpoenaed and the Diocese of Minnesota, it appears that is exactly what they're doing. Each order and each diocese pays an assessment to Rome. Looks like it may be in the neighborhood of 10-20% of its income after expenses. It doesn't appear that the American churches receive any services for that money. I guess it costs a lot to run the Vatican."

Brother Tim commented, "I imagine that the U. S. may be an important source of revenue for Rome."

Maggie said, "I've read that church attendance is higher in America than any other country in the world, and we give more money to our churches than any other country. I bet the American Catholic Church contributes a significant amount of the Vatican's budget."

Christina said, "That's what has the right wing Republicans so riled up. The U. S. is sending millions to Rome that they think should stay here. And, they don't like the fact that the Churches are politically involved. They're not supposed to play partisan politics and maintain their tax exempt status."

Father Frank said, "Then they should have started taxing the Church a long time ago. I remember when I was a kid, the bishop used to send out letters before elections giving the official Catholic position on issues and candidates. They'd read the letter from the pulpit on Sunday mornings before elections."

Christina nodded, "They did that in my church, too."

Mother Mercy said, "Well, if we were to be completely consistent and really separate church and state, we'd eliminate the tax exempt status for all religious organizations, including ours. It appears to me that the Protestants seem to do some politicking in their churches as well."

Christina laughed, "Mother, please do not say that out loud again at least until we have finished with our case. From now on, we need to walk a very fine line. We will continue to pursue our claim against the Church, but we will try to do it without supporting the anti-Catholic movement."

Mercy asked, "How will we do that?"

Christina said, "Our position all along has been that we are not anti-Catholic. You are all loyal and good Catholics, as are most of the people who are similarly situated. That's our story and we need to stay absolutely on message."

Mercy said, "Okay so when the reporters call, I tell them that we have no comment, right?"

"No. I think you should tell them that we oppose what South Carolina is trying to do. If the government takes away your tax exempt status, somebody is going to have to pay thousands of dollars a year in property taxes on your buildings, and you'll have to pay income taxes on money that is donated to you and the earnings on your investments. When it comes to the lawsuit against the Church of Rome, we are totally aligned with the Church."

Mercy made a face, "That won't be easy for me. I've been pissed off at the Church too long."

Christina said, "Lie if you have to."

Mercy made a pretend-surprised face and said, "Me? Lie?"

Christina pretended to glare at her, "Force yourself."

Sister Maggie said, "Am I wrong in thinking that this may give us a real weapon to use to beat a quick settlement out of the Church?"

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, we have financial information that could be used against the Church. If we put a plug in the lawsuit now, we can return the information and destroy our copies. If the Church refuses to settle with us, we can threaten to do what you suggested, Christina, and file the documents with the court, after which our financial expert could end up working for the South Carolina plaintiffs."

"You're right. Hopefully the Church will pay a whole lot of money to keep us from making those records public. I can tell you that I have put an addendum on our expert's confidentiality agreement prohibiting him from working on the South Carolina lawsuit. He agreed to sign it, although he told me it wasn't necessary. He's a conservative Jew who is as afraid of the Protestant right as we should be."

Mercy said, "Okay, just to make sure I've got this straight. When the reporters ask, our position is that we believe it would be wrong to revoke the Church's tax exempt status because it would hurt ordinary Catholics in the pews."

"Right."

"What if they ask me what I know about the church's finances?"

"What do you know about the church's finances?"

"Only what you told me."

"And what have I told you about communications between me and you?"

"That it's privileged like the privilege of the confessional and I shouldn't tell anybody."

"So your answer is that you do not know anything about the Church's finances other than what you have learned from your attorney and you cannot discuss that."

## The Lawsuit: Denouement

Christina sent a letter to Judge Goldberg with a copy to the Church's lawyers requesting that the court schedule a settlement conference, or, alternatively, order mediation. The judge set a case management hearing.

The judge's first question upon convening the hearing was directed to Christina. "Ms. Baldera, how on earth do you propose to come up with any reasonable settlement demand without taking any discovery."

Christina patted a four-inch high sheaf of paper, "I have financial records from virtually every religious Order in America. I also have detailed financial information from the Diocese of Minnesota.

"I have the names and addresses of more than twenty thousand retired nuns, priests and lay brothers. My financial experts have done some extrapolations from the financial information, so we have a pretty good idea of the Church's financial position. I've had investigators researching membership in the various religious orders. We think that there are a total of probably fifty thousand people who may be potential class members.

"I have a report from an economist that used the demographics about the twenty thousand people I know about. He has done some amazing calculations to figure out how much it will cost to support the currently retired vowed religious in America. We are not able to address the future of the non-retired religious. They will have to work that out with their Orders and dioceses directly.

"I have provided all this information to Mr. Hunter.

"I am prepared to make a demand, based on what I think is reasonable extrapolations from hard data. I don't think it is necessary to waste anybody's time or money on discovery. I would prefer to settle this now. We have already established a Trust for the class. All we need to do is fund it."

The judge raised his eyebrows and turned to Hunter. "What do you say to that? Are you ready to talk turkey or do you want to depose the plaintiffs?"

Hunter stood up and looked at Christina with a gambler's blank expression, but with fire in his eyes. "The Church will entertain any demand the plaintiffs wish to make. Whether we need to proceed with further discovery will depend on the reasonableness of the demand."

The judge looked at Christina. "Make your demand."

"Now?"

"Are you ready?"

She hesitated. "I am, but I have not discussed the actual numbers with my clients. With the court's permission, I'd like a few days to meet with my clients and make sure they understand how we have arrived at the numbers. I will submit a demand to the Church by the end of the week."

Judge Goldberg said, "I want to control this. I'm not going to order mediation. We'll settle this here. Please put your demand in the format of an Offer of Judgment. File it with the Court and serve the Church. You think you can get that done by the end of the week?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Fine. You file your Offer by Friday. I'm setting a settlement conference for next Friday at 10:00 AM in this courtroom."

Hunter jumped to his feet and said, "Your Honor, that does not give us enough time to consider the demand."

"Ms. Baldera, when did you turn over your information to Mr. Hunter?"

"I gave him the raw financial data following the hearing on the motion to dismiss. I gave him the experts reports over the summer."

"So, he's had the financial data you have for over a year and your experts reports for more than six months. Mr. Hunter, I think you've had ample time to consider what this case may be worth. Let's at least explore it. We will start next Friday at 10. We are adjourned."

Christina arranged a meeting with her clients for the next day. She explained to them generally the process that the experts used in developing their financial models. And laid out the information, recommending that they make a financial demand of $50 million, but be prepared to settle for $25 million.

Several of the people in the room asked questions about how the money would be conveyed to the members of the class. Christina explained that the class members would each receive a check for their share of the settlement.

Sister Anne, Sister Magdalene and Mother Mercy sat together, and said nothing at all until everyone else had been satisfied. Christina looked at Mercy, "You have been very quiet tonight. What do you have to say."

Mercy sighed and said, "I have relied on you and trusted you and been amazed and inspired by you, but for the first time, I think we are going to disagree. Maggie and Tim and I have been doing some research of our own. I don't disagree with your numbers. What I have a problem with is how the money is to be paid out. I don't want to send individual checks to a bunch of people who don't know how to manage money, many of them are sick. A lot of them may have dementia. They would be sitting ducks for people to cheat them. I think we should not ask for cash money. I think we should ask for the Church to do the right thing. To pay whatever it costs to house, clothe and care for its retired religious. I think we should ask the court to monitor the process. Didn't they do that when the courts ordered schools to desegregate? The courts retained jurisdiction make sure their orders were carried out.

"I think we should ask for the church to pay us the sanctions it has not paid, in exchange for us withdrawing our requests for the financial information, to turn off the faucet on sanctions. That's well over a million dollars. We could use that money to notify the class and to relieve urgent hardship cases now.

"Then we should ask the Court to order the church to take care of its people. How it might fund that or how much it would take would not be our concern. We'll move into Church-owned nursing homes if that's what they want to do, or they can pay our expenses for being cared for in our individual monasteries.

"We don't want cash. We want the Church to do the right thing.

"In exchange for that, we'll give the church back its secret financial information and support it in its battle with South Carolina."

Christina whistled, "And thereby, we help ensure that the non-retired religious may be taken care of as well."

Sister Anne nodded, "We've talked a lot about that. Most of the people in the orders who are still working are actually retirement age or close to it but their orders need the money. They're getting older and sicker by the day. It wouldn't be fair for us to take millions of dollars to take care of us, and leave thousands of future people to be left out."

Sister Magdalene said, "The other alternative would be to ask the Church to set up an endowment of, say, $100 million to fund care for retired religious now and in the future."

Sister Anne said, "There are half-to-three-quarters empty convents and monasteries all over America. If the Orders were willing to join together, like we have, housing people from various orders, they could sell off the empty properties and probably fund endowments without spending any cash. There are all kinds of scenarios that would accomplish what we want without bankrupting any Orders or dioceses. And without closing churches."

Christina said, "We could ask the court to set up an administrative panel to work with the Church to set up the systems and come up with the necessary funding. May I propose that one or more of you sit on that panel."

Sister Magdalene said, "I'd like to if the court would approve that."

Christina nodded. Then she laughed. "This is going to blow their minds. I have to go now. I need to completely rework my Offer of Judgment and I only have a couple of days to do it. Thank you. Mother, we have not parted ways, you just gave me a little course correction that may win the day for our side. I'd like for you to come to the settlement hearing with me."

Mercy said, "I'll come and Sister Maggie will come. It's probably going to be a circus. I don't think anyone else needs to be subjected to that."

"I agree. I'll pick you up at 9:00 AM next Friday."

The legal team worked round the clock for the next two days, and filed their Offer of Judgment just before the end of the day on Friday.

Christina and the attorneys worked 18 hour days with their experts formulating models and scenarios that would show the Church could fund the care for its elderly religious as an ongoing expense line-item.

The following week, Christina entered the courtroom with Sister Magdalene and Mother Mercy. For the first time, she brought her whole legal team. All the lawyers, paralegals, legal assistants and their experts were in attendance. The nuns greeted each of them and thanked them for their efforts.

The legal team and experts sat in the gallery. Mother Mercy and Sister Magdalene sat at counsel table with Christina. Mercy asked, "How come you brought them all today? You usually come alone."

"Two reasons. One, they have worked so very hard," she choked up and gritted her teeth to regain control, "They have done amazing work on your behalf and I wanted you to meet them. I wanted them to be present today because today will be the make-or-break event of this whole case. They got us here. I want them to be part of it. Besides, the court may want to ask questions of our experts and I wanted them to be right here to avoid having to adjourn. Judge Goldberg knows I have a team. There's no point in me pretending to be solo any more."

About that time, the Church's legal team swept into the room. They filled up their entire side of the gallery and spilled over to the plaintiffs side. Christina had expected that and ordered her team not to speak or take notes. They were not to react in any way to anything that might be said.

Judge Goldberg entered the courtroom and told the assembly to be seated. He looked at Christina over his glasses and said, "Am I correct in understanding that your demand is for a cash payment of $1 million for the sanctions this court ordered the Church to pay months ago. Beyond that you simply ask that the Church care for its elderly religious, now and in the future, with the Court retaining jurisdiction to ensure that this is done. You propose an oversight committee be established consisting of representatives of the Church and representatives of the Class with a court-appointed chairman. Am I correct in my understanding?"

"Yes, Your Honor. This case has never been about money for my clients. It has been about their housing, food, and medical care. We believe the Church has the money to do that, or it could raise the money relatively easily by consolidating some living arrangements and eliminating some duplication and waste in the system of caring for retired religious. We think, if done correctly, would not unduly burden the Church at all."

"What do you propose to do with the $1 million cash."

"We propose to use it as an emergency fund for religious who are in distress right now until systems can be set up for the Church to take over their care. We would also propose to us it to pay for administrative costs of setting up the Oversight Committee."

Judge Goldberg said, "The only problems I have with your demand are these: First, your cash demand is too low. On the one hand, the Church's reckless disregard and disrespect for this Court's orders is infuriating. Am I correct in understanding, Ms. Baldera that you are ready to withdraw your request for financial information."

"Of course, Your Honor. I won't need it if this case settles."

"The amount of the sanctions as of today is $1,600,000. Regardless of the outcome of the rest of the settlement discussions. I am ordering the sanctions to be paid into the Trust by 3:00 PM on Monday. If the money has not been deposited at that time, I will send a sheriff to escort Mr. Hunter to jail where he will remain until such time as the funds are paid. Do you understand, Mr. Hunter?"

The attorney stood and croaked, "Yes, Your Honor."

"I don't think you'd look so dapper in an orange jumpsuit. You may sit. This is a settlement conference. I invite you to remain seated while we discuss this."

He shuffled through his papers and then folded his hands and looked at the bishop for a long time and then asked Hunter, "So. You have the opportunity to get out of a class action lawsuit for essentially no cash payment. The sanctions don't count because you have to pay that anyway. I want to let you know that the sanctions continue to accrue until this matter is settled because Ms. Baldera's offer to withdraw her discovery requests is conditioned upon settlement. I am also prepared to order the Church to pay the money daily for as long as this goes on. If the Church misses any daily deposit, Mr. Hunter will get a visit from the sheriff.

"Now. What have you to say?"

Hunter said, "Your Honor, Bishop Elkins wishes to speak for the Church if you will permit him to do so."

Bishop Elkins looked at the Judge and swallowed hard. Then he looked at Christina and then Mother Mercy and, finally, Sister Magdalene. He asked Christina, "May I ask a question directly to your clients?"

"Yes, your Eminence."

"Sister Magdalene, was the nature of the settlement demand your idea?"

She smiled, "I truly wish I could take credit for it. The genesis of it was Mother's idea, although we kind of worked out the overall outline in caucus with me, Mother and Sister Anne, the former superior."

"People in the diocese, including me, used to think you were a trouble-maker."

She said, "That was your opinion. I viewed it as doing what I had to do in order to do my job."

"I have changed my mind. I see you as a modern day Jeremiah. You have humbled me utterly."

He turned to the judge and said, "There is a famous scene in Church history in which St. Francis of Assisi visits the Pope in the Vatican. St. Francis is barefoot and dirty. The Pope gets up from his throne, prostrates himself in front of Francis and kisses his feet. I'm not going to go that far, but I will tell you that the document Ms. Baldera has prepared rocked my soul. The Diocese of Columbus will agree to comply with the terms of the settlement and we will gladly work with whatever committee of oversight the court chooses to establish. We would invite Sister Magdalene to be a part of that committee if she is willing to do so. I have spoken to other bishops and archbishops around the country and we have been in contact with Rome. I can tell you that Rome is prepared to order any bishop in America who is not already on board with this proposal to get on board pronto, or face removal. The Church usually doesn't move very fast, but in this case I believe it can do so, and, if I have anything to say about it, it will.

"What we propose to do is to call a synod of all the religious orders. They are all hurting for money. Rome has agreed to at least temporarily waive its assessments to the Orders for the foreseeable future. We will get the superiors of all the orders together to discuss options for moving people around to fill up monasteries that are suitable for elderly housing and selling off buildings that are not easily convertible to being handicapped accessible. The local dioceses will allow all vowed religious who are canonically resident in a given diocese to participate in the diocesan medical plan. We are working with our insurance companies to try to get an emergency open enrollment period. For those religious who do not currently have medical coverage and who are not on Medicaid there may be some pre-existing exclusions. The church will self-insure those people.

"We will do a study of the endowments of each monastery and make a plan to close facilities and consolidate funds where necessary, and to beef up endowments where that makes sense.

"We have already begun the process and we hope to fully implement the plan within a year. We will report to the Court on whatever schedule Your Honor chooses to establish.

"I think that about covers our response to Ms. Baldera's offer."

Judge Goldberg asked, "How about an apology to the Court?"

"Yes, sir. We humbly apologize to the Court for ignoring Your Honor's order to pay sanctions."

Judge Goldberg looked at Christina, "Well. What do you say?"

Christina turned around and asked one of the paralegals to bring up a box. She said, "Your Honor, may my paralegal approach the Defendant's table?"

"For what purpose?"

"We want to return to the Church all the financial records we received, along with all of our notes, our experts reports and all of his notes. We are returning all paper copies, electronic discs and we have included affidavits from everyone on our legal team that we have deleted all copies of these records from our computers, and certifications promising that we will maintain the confidentiality of any knowledge we gained from that data."

Judge Goldberg had difficulty keeping a straight face, but for the record said, "Mr. Hunter, may Ms. Baldera's paralegal approach your table?"

"By all means."

The paralegal placed the box on the table, and Hunter moved it to the floor behind him.

Judge Goldberg said, "I will have my clerk reach out to you to discuss setting an organizational meeting for the Oversight Committee. I'll circulate the names of three individuals the Court will propose as Chair. Ms. Baldera and Mr. Hunter, I'd like for you to remain involved in the process of setting up the Committee. Once it is setup, the Chairman will report to me."

He looked at Sister Magdalene, "Sister, would you be willing to help with organizational work as well as serving on the Committee?"

"Yes, Your Honor, it would be my privilege."

The judge looked at each of the attorneys and asked, "Is there any other business to discuss today?"

Mother Mercy said, "Your Honor, may I say something that will go on the record before you adjourn?"

"Certainly, Mother Mercy."

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to say something to Bishop Elkins."

"That is unusual. You should speak through your attorneys, but if they have no objections, I have none."

Christina looked at Mercy suspiciously but didn't object. Hunter nodded.

Mercy stood up and walked over to the bishop. She put out her hand and said, "Thank you, Your Eminence. Thank you."

He stood up and hugged her.

Judge Goldberg cleared his throat and said, "The Court will retain jurisdiction over this matter until such time as it is satisfied the settlement has been fully implemented. I'll expect a progress report in a month or so. Mr. Hunter, that money will hit the bank by Monday or you'd better pack your toothbrush."

"Your Honor, the money has already been wired. We have confirmation of delivery. If you like, I can email it to Your Honor."

"You can submit it to the Clerk in due course. We are adjourned."

The lawyers shook hands. Maggie whispered to Mercy, "It's like baseball teams shaking hands after a game."

Hunter asked Christina, "You want to make a joint announcement?"

"Yep. Now that we're all friendly-like. I simply propose to say that we have arrived at a confidential settlement and we will work with the Church to take steps to care for the members of the class. You and I will have to discuss class notification. I'm thinking it might not be necessary."

"I've been thinking about that. We should talk next week and then maybe do a joint letter to the Court advising him that we're waiving notice because anyone who would be a class member and a lot of people who don't qualify now will be included automatically."

"Yeah." Christina turned to her clients and said, "You have two choices: you can go ahead and get in the car or you can stand with me on the steps. Either way, I will do the talking. Got it?"

Mercy made a face and said, "Yes, Ma'am. Personally, I'd rather get in the car and go home and never come out again, but I suppose it would be better if we all stood there and got our pictures taken together."

Hunter nodded. "That would be our preference. As you can appreciate, we have other battles to fight and we would like to send a clear message that this one is over and you now stand with us. Whether or not that's true."

Mercy said, "We are glad to do it, and it is true. We stand to lose a lot if you lose that other case as well."

Christina snapped, "Mother!"

"What did I do?"

Christina said, "This case may be over, but the court still has jurisdiction over the outcome and I'm still your lawyer, so I'll do the talking."

"Oh, okay." Mercy tried – without success – to look sheepish.

The lawyers and their clients walked out into the sunlight where there was a virtual riot going on between the Catholics who were waiting to see the outcome of the case and anti-Catholic demonstrators heckling and harassing them. It took the crowd a few minutes to even realize the litigants had emerged from the courthouse. The press noticed first and arrayed itself on the steps in front of the court house, with cameras whirring. The crowd settled down.

The two lawyers stood side-by-side with their clients on either side of them. Christina announced that they had arrived at a comprehensive settlement that would ensure the care for not only the currently-retired religious, but all vowed religious people in America. The crowd was silent. Hunter said, "We will establish an oversight committee under the jurisdiction of the Court to oversee the process of bringing all of our vowed religious under Church medical plans and to ensure they will be housed and taken care of for as long as they live."

Christina added, "The settlement provides for specific performance on the part of the Church. No money is changing hands as a part of the settlement. Every current member of the Class as well as future retired religious will automatically benefit from the settlement without necessity to opt in. If anyone wants to opt out, for some reason, we will deal with it on a case-by-case basis."

The Catholic supporters understood the significance of that, and erupted in cheers. The hecklers drifted away.

On the way back to the monastery, Mother asked Christina to invite the entire legal team to lunch on Saturday. She wanted them to meet the rest of the members of the Community.

Christina had called ahead to let the Community know they were on their way. The members were arrayed in the infirmary waiting. Mother Mercy did not bother to sit down, she stood at the door and said, "It's over, people. We won. The Church will take care of us. I will let Christina tell you the details. I am going to my office. I do not wish to be disturbed. Once your meeting is over, I would ask that you all maintain silence until breakfast tomorrow. There's been way too much palaver in this monastery for too long ."

She left the room.

When Mother did not come out of her office for dinner, Sister Magdalene took her a plate. Mother didn't answer when she knocked, so she went in. Mercy was asleep at her desk with her head on her arms.

Maggie said, "Mother, I brought you some soup. You haven't eaten anything all day."

Mercy sat up and rubbed her tear-swollen eyes, "I haven't kept anything down in days. Thank you. I told you I didn't want to be disturbed."

"I'm the disobedient trouble-maker, remember?"

"Personally, I've always seen you more as Deborah, but Jeremiah works, too."

"Nah, I'm not as negative as Jeremiah. Eat your soup and go to bed."

She patted the back of Mother's hand, and left the room.

Silence descended on the monastery along with a sense of security and peace none of them had felt in a very long time.

## The Lawsuit: Aftermath

Sister Magdalene's job working with the Church and the court-appointed overseer required her to be gone most of the day during weekdays. Her administrative duties fell back on Mercy. Thanks to the donations that continued to pour in, their endowment provided them sufficient income to get by until the Church reorganized and put them on the medical plan. Mercy told Maggie she wanted to move to a facility that was all on one floor. The stairs in the old convent were too much for the men and even the seven stairs to the chapel were a challenge for some of the nuns.

Sister Magdalene came home early one day a few weeks later and asked Mercy if she could address the Chapter. They met in the infirmary so everyone could be present. Maggie said, "We're not finished with all the arrangements, but we have made one decision, which I hope you will like. Franciscan Health Systems has a small hospital in the suburbs that it plans to close because it has added to the big hospital downtown and built a new satellite hospital on the north side of the city. This facility has four floors with nearly two hundred rooms. The Church is going to buy it and remodel it. They will take out the nursery and the surgical suite. One floor will be converted to assisted living units. There will be an Alzheimer's wing and a regular medical floor. The rest of the facility will be a monastery. One floor for women. One floor for men. There's already a beautiful chapel in the basement. They hope to have it ready in three months. We can move in anytime after it is ready. A number of other sisters and priests will join us. As it stands now, we won't totally fill up the facility, but they want to have room to add people as new religious retire or get sick."

Mercy said, "But it's still on multiple floors."

Maggie replied, "It's a hospital now. It has elevators, both regular passenger elevators and elevators that are big enough for wheelchairs and gurneys."

Mother made a face and bopped herself on the head, "Duh."

Everybody laughed and then applauded Maggie's wonderful work on their behalf.

Silence continued to be the norm in the Community, but the mood was joyous. Because they didn't watch television or read the papers, they all but forgot about the other legal battle the Church was fighting. Sister Magdalene was aware of the progress of the lawsuit, but she kept the information to herself. She saw no reason to disturb the well-earned happiness that reigned in the Community with news of the religious war that was raging in the courts and in the streets. She knew that Brother Tim, who still went to the library a few times a week, was also following the news, but he, too, said nothing about it as far as she could tell.

One afternoon Christina Baldera and Randolph Hunter were waiting for her when Sister Maggie left work for the day. They invited her to have dinner with them. She said, "I'm not much for eating in restaurants. My hearing is getting very bad, and I hate the hearing aids I bought online. I have trouble following conversations in restaurants. Everybody's gone, let's sit down in the committee room."

Christina asked for a report on the health and well-being of the members of the Community and apologized for not calling or coming by.

Sister Magdalene could tell that Christina was nervous and she did not like the way Hunter was looking at her. She interrupted the small talk and said, "Cut to the chase. What do you want?"

Christina laughed, "The Church wants to do some public relations. Like we did in our case, the Church wants to get some press coverage just prior to an important hearing in the U. S. Supreme Court."

"And?"

"The Church wants you to let _60 Minutes_ do a follow-up story on your Community. You plan to move to the new facility in a couple of weeks. We'd like to have them interview some of your members and to follow your move."

Sister Magdalene pursed her lips and said, "I'll take the request to the Chapter, but I have to tell you a few things have changed in our Community since our lawsuit ended. For one thing, we have turned into a virtually silent community. People talk softly in the infirmary and we have a Chapter meeting every afternoon, but we do not speak the rest of the time. I think filming our daily routine would be pretty boring."

Hunter scrunched his brows and asked, "How did that happen? And why?"

Sister Maggie sighed, "The day we returned from the court, Mother ordered us to remain silent until the next morning. She said there had been entirely too much talking and commotion. We needed some peace. The next morning came, and still nobody talked. We didn't exactly discuss it until much later. It just happened. Everyone likes the silence. I have to tell you, when I go home at night after sitting in meetings all day, I sink into the silence like a warm bath. It's wonderful."

Hunter asked, "Do you think Mother Mercy will agree?"

"Probably. She has no great love for the Church of Rome but she's grateful to the Diocese of Columbus for what it is doing for her people."

Christina smiled, "Mother thinks locally."

"Yeah, but she acts global."

The lawyers laughed. Sister Maggie stood up. "I have to go or I'll miss Chapter. I'll pose your question to the Community and let you know. I'll call you tomorrow, Christina."

When Sister Maggie arrived home, the place was in turmoil. Sister Anne had suffered a stroke. She was alive, but severely affected. They were waiting for an ambulance to take her to the hospital. Mother Mercy and Sister Maggie accompanied her.

They sat next to each other beside the bed, watching the monitors and listening to Anne's labored breathing. Mercy held Sister Anne's hand and laid her head on the bed.

"What will I do without her in my world? She is my mother in every way other than biology."

Sister Maggie put one hand on Mercy's shoulder and clasped both Mercy's hand and Anne's with her other. "She's the kindest and wisest person I know besides you."

"Me? I'm just an old bitch, and I feel like I'm getting meaner the older I get."

"No. You're just getting stronger."

They sat for a long time listening to Sister Anne's breathing as it grew shallow and erratic. Shortly before daybreak, her breathing stopped altogether. Alarms went off on the monitors and a medical team rushed in. Mother stood up and held up her hands. "Check her chart. She has a 'do not resuscitate' order. She is 92. Let her go."

The medical team left. Mother sat down and put her face on her knees, sobbing. Sister Magdalene attended to the details with the hospital staff.

The next day Christina and Mr. Hunter visited the Community to deliver the message that the bishop wanted to celebrate Sister Anne's funeral Mass at the cathedral. Mother Mercy threw the fit of her life, insisting that she would not allow Sister Anne's funeral to become a public circus.

Mr. Hunter reminded her that she had done precisely that with Sister Perpetua's funeral, and the stakes were even higher now.

Mercy shook with rage, but relented.

Representatives from every religious Order in America attended as did virtually all of the diocesan priests from the Diocese of Columbus and a fair number of bishops from other dioceses. The funeral was to be both a showcase of Catholic solidarity and an opportunity for the religious Orders to thank what had become known as the "Columbus Community" for its courageous efforts on their behalf.

The funeral was covered by the national networks. Anti-Catholic demonstrators lined the streets waving nasty signs and shouting at the mourners as they arrived. Catholic supporters, lined the steps of the cathedral, four deep, in an effort to shield the mourners from the invective as they walked into the church.

Mercy had announced she did not intend to go to the funeral. She would not parade her grief in public. The rest of the members of the Community understood and did not pressure her. Sister Magdalene, Brother Tim, Father Frank and Sister Clarissa would represent the Community. They were the only ones left besides Mercy who were not bed-ridden. Sister Clarissa was in a wheelchair, and would be attended by a nurse who was strong enough to push the chair.

Somehow the bishop found out that Mercy was not planning to attend. He called Christina and asked her to lean on Mercy. She agreed. The conversation between her and Mother Mercy was ugly and loud. There was profanity on one side. Finally, Christina said, "Mother, you have to understand that if the Church loses the case in the Supreme Court, everything we won will go up in smoke. The Church will have to sell off property and its income will be seriously reduced. It may still try to keep its commitment to take care of you, but I doubt you'll be much better off than you were before."

"We have our endowment."

"The deal is, when you move into the new facility, your endowment rolls into the diocesan endowment. The diocese agreed to take care of you. The diocese gets your money."

"What!?"

"That's the way it works. When you joined the Order, you were vowed to poverty. You own nothing of your own. The Order has turned your care over to the Diocese of Columbus. The Order owned your endowment, which it ceded to the Diocese of Columbus."

"You're talking about the Franciscans?"

"Right."

"But, we are not all Franciscans."

"When each of the others came here, they put their money in your endowment, which is owned by the Franciscans. You had spending authority to run the Community. Your Community never owned the endowment."

"You mean to tell me that the Franciscans threatened to evict us and then sat back and let us carry the load for the whole Order and all the others to boot, and none of them did squat to help us?"

"That's pretty much it."

"And now, after winning our lawsuit, our future depends on the Church winning its lawsuit in order to keep its promises?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mercy stood up, pale and trembling, "Christina, do you have any idea how much I hate the Catholic Church?"

Christina took Mother's hand and said, "I sense that my contempt for the Catholic Church, which is a seething dark stain on my soul, is a pale comparison with yours, but, yeah, I have a general idea of how you must feel."

Mercy sighed, "Alright, dammit, let's go."

The others were already in the van. The argument had gone on so long, they would be almost the last to arrive. They were to be seated in the front row as members of Sister Anne's home Community.

Mercy was shocked by the huge crowds. She more or less agreed with the nasty things the demonstrators were saying, but it made her angry that they were shouting at the mourners at a funeral instead of picketing the diocesan headquarters, where the real monsters were. She put her head down, closed her eyes and fingered her rosary. Others thought she was praying. In fact she was counting from one to ten over and over. It was the only way she could keep herself calm.

When the van arrived at the cathedral, even the demonstrators fell silent. The nurse got out first followed by Christina. The nurse helped lower the wheelchair lift, while Christina assisted the others out of the vehicle. The wheelchair led them up the ramp, followed by Brother Ted and Father Frank walking side-by-side, Sister Magdalene walked with Mother Mercy. Christina walked up the stairs and joined the ranks of the Church's lawyers. She would not sit with her clients.

The small procession entered the cathedral and made its way slowly down the long aisle to the front row. The congregation stood. Mercy gritted her teeth to prevent herself from crying and clasped Maggie's hand. Maggie held on to Mercy's hand for the same reason. They would not cry or jump up on the Communion rail and scream obscenities at the bishops. They would behave like good nuns. Just like always.

As far as Mercy was concerned, the Mass droned on far too long, with too much pomp and ceremony. She choked on the smells of incense and flowers. Finally, mercifully, the Mass was over and she thought she could go home. Then she realized they were going to the cemetery. She looked at Maggie who seemed to be on the precipice of losing control as well. They walked shoulder-to-shoulder behind the casket as it left the church.

No one in the van said a word. Clumps of demonstrators shouted at them along the route. Fortunately, there were no demonstrators inside the cemetery. Only thousands and thousands of people holding white roses, many of them elderly nuns and priests. That gave Mercy the first bit of comfort she had felt all day. She held the leadership of the Church in nothing but contempt, but she had to remember that the vowed religious and the ordinary Catholics were not to be blamed for the Church's sins.

The bishop of the Diocese of Columbus read the committal and the casket was lowered. This time Mercy could not wait while the crowd filed by. She needed to leave immediately. At the first decent moment, she turned and let her tiny group across the lawn to the van. Sister Clarissa had waited in the van because her wheelchair could not fit between the rows of headstones.

As soon as the others boarded, the driver pulled away from the curb, and took them home. Mercy shut herself away in her office for the rest of the day. Maggie checked in on her in the evening, but Mercy ordered her away.

The next morning Mercy attended Mass in the chapel, took a piece of cheese from the kitchen and went back to her office.

She isolated herself from the Community for several days, after which she picked up her ordinary routine as though nothing had happened. She never talked to anyone about her feelings during those black days.

Soon it was time to begin packing for their move, and planning for their interview with _60 Minutes_. Mercy attended to the arrangements with her usual efficiency, but everyone could tell that the joy that had reigned in her heart after the lawsuit was gone, but none of the residents, other than Sister Magdalene, had any idea why.

The camera crew filmed the Community packing their meager belongings. They took pictures of Mercy on the phone talking to movers and diocesan officials. They interviewed some of the members of the Community. They interviewed some diocesan officials, who sang the praises of this brave little group who had called the Church to task for a serious sin of omission.

When moving day came, several ambulances moved the bed-ridden residents. Those in wheelchairs and the four ambulatory members rode in a large van. The cameras recorded their arrival at their new home, which only Sister Maggie had even visited. Mother Mercy had been invited to visit, but said she'd trust Maggie's judgment that the facility was suitable for those in her care. As for her, she didn't care where she went.

It turned out she was very impressed with the facility which was modern and immaculately clean. There were no leaky ceilings or squeaky floorboards. Mercy was very satisfied. For the first time since they had moved out of the convent and into the orphanage, Mercy had her own room. She planned to spend as much time as possible there because the facility had an administrative staff. Her days as an administrator were over. She asked the head cook if she could occasionally putter in the kitchen and they told her she was welcome to help whenever she wanted, but was not obligated to any particular schedule. She was happy to discover that the facility had a very nice library. She thought perhaps she would spend her retirement very much as she had spent her youth: working in the kitchen in the daytime and reading during every spare moment. For the first time in weeks, the dark cloud of grief and anger lifted and Mercy felt that she might possibly find a way to take some pleasure in her life again.

The next day she was scheduled to be interviewed by the _60 Minutes_ reporter. It was the same lady she had met before. They chatted for a while. Mercy answered her questions politely. After discussing the lawsuit and its settlement, the reporter asked her, "Was it all worth it?"

Mercy thought about that for a very long time before she answered. She stared at the ceiling and then looked at her hands. She closed her eyes and sighed. Eventually she looked the reporter in the eye and said firmly, "No."

The reporter was visibly shocked by her answer and she virtually gasped, "Why not?"

Mercy said bitterly, "Because – while it helped the group of vowed religious we started out being concerned about – it created more bitterness than ever between the Church and Protestants and between the liberals and conservatives within the Church. Personally I don't give a toot about the Roman Catholic Church, but there are a lot of people who are deeply nourished by it and I think all of them suffered because of this. They'll suffer a hell of a lot more if the Church loses this other lawsuit. We all will. In a way, I think that what we did was kind of selfish. My only excuse was that we had no idea when we started that it would get so blown out of proportion."

The reporter asked, "If you had it to do over, what would you do differently?"

Mother Mercy thought about that for a long time, then she laughed, "I probably would do exactly the same. I had people depending on me and I did what I had to do to take care of them. The fact that others took advantage of the opportunity to push their own nasty political agendas was unfortunate, but it wasn't our fault. I may have been selfish and ignorant of the bigger picture, but I have a clear conscience that the actions I took were for all the right reasons."

"Do you have any regrets?"

"About this case?"

"Yes."

"None whatsoever."

"Do you have any regrets at all?"

"One."

"What is that?"

"That I didn't have the guts to leave the orphanage when I was eighteen and get a job like a regular person."

"You regret becoming a nun?"

"Every day of my life."

"Did you ever think about leaving?"

Mercy looked shocked by the suggestion, "Hell, no! I stood up in front of Mother Anne and Father Ted and that whole community of nuns and orphans every one of whom I loved and promised to join them and to stick with them forever. A promise is a promise. I keep mine."

"What do you hope happens with the lawsuit against the Church?"

She thought about that for a long time. "I told you I don't care much about the Church itself, but I care a lot about its people. Personally, I think that in our country no church or religious institution should be tax exempt. I believe in the separation of church and state. But we are tax exempt and because of that the Church has the opportunity to provide more services than it would otherwise. Those services include keeping its promises to take care of us old religious, teaching kids in school, nursing the sick in hospitals, working in the inner cities, and everyplace else. The Church's work goes beyond Catholics and reaches every corner of our country. I think it oughta be allowed to keep on doing that. If other churches are tax exempt, then the Catholic Church ought not to be singled out for punishment."

"What about the argument that the Church takes orders from Rome and gets involved in politics."

"First of all, Rome doesn't dictate the politics. All Rome cares about is the money. As long as the Church of America sends the Pope the cash, he don't care what our bishops do politically here. And, don't think for a minute that those fundamentalist, right-wing Protestant churches aren't preaching politics on Sunday mornings, too. I don't hear anybody suggesting taking away their tax exempt status!"

"This ain't about religion. It's about politics and money. On both sides. And both sides are up to their eyeballs in sinfulness, wickedness and corruption. The fair solution to the whole damned thing would be for the Catholic Church to agree to send less money to Rome so it could do more here and for the plaintiffs' to agree to dismiss the case. That would be the fair and right thing."

"Do you think that will happen?"

Mercy laughed and made a face, "How the hell should I know? I'm a retired nun in Ohio who's never been to school and never been anywhere but a orphanage and a convent."

The reporter smiled, "You may be that, but you took on the Catholic Church and won."

Mercy smiled and winked, "Then I suppose miracles do happen." She paused, "Are we done now?"

The interview was a sensation. The Religious Right used her profanity and cheekiness as an excuse to further vilify the Church. The conservatives in the Church were outraged, and several Catholic newspapers went so far as to suggest that she be kicked out of the home the Church was providing to her. Many others inside and outside the Church saw Mother Mercy as courageous woman, a hero even, who was not afraid to stand up to the Catholic Church the American Protestant majority, and speak the truth.

A week after the interview aired, the state of South Carolina filed a motion to dismiss the case because it had arrived at a confidential settlement with the Vatican. The anti-Catholic bills in various legislatures were allowed to languish. The U. S. government took no action against the Church.

Mother Mercy died two years later. She spent those last two years reading to invalids in the nursing home and puttering in the kitchen when she felt up to it.

Upon her death, the bishop wanted to have a big funeral, but Sister Magdalene knew that Sister Mercy (after moving to the nursing home, she reverted to the title of Sister) would not want such a thing. When Mercy was moved to the hospice, Maggie quickly arranged with a funeral director to have Sister Mercy cremated immediately after her death, thereby insuring that the Church would not give her a funeral or allow her to be buried in a Catholic cemetery. Mercy's ashes were interred in the county cemetery with the other members of the Community. Sister Magdalene made no arrangements for a marker.

Several months after she died, a small marker appeared on Mercy's grave. It bore no name or dates. It said simply: _Well done, good and faithful servant._

## End Note

My name is Charmaine Rochester. I am a reporter for the Columbus (Ohio) _Dispatch._ I spent most of my childhood in St. Mary's Orphanage.

The first day I met Mother Mercy, I was ten years old and had been taken away from my family as incorrigible. During my intake interview at the orphanage I sassed Mother. She jumped up, dragged me into the bathroom and washed my mouth out with soap and promised to do the same thing every time I mouthed off until I learned to behave.

The last time I saw her I asked her if she remembered that. Tears a sprang to her eyes and she said, "Oh, yes. I remember every single time I had to discipline one of our kiddies. It tore me up every time, but I didn't know what else to do to keep order in our house."

I was not allowed to cover the story of the nuns' lawsuit for the paper because my editor thought my relationship with them would affect my ability to be objective. The stories that have been published in the media about these events are filled with half truths, misunderstandings, and outright lies.

This is my version of the story. I readily admit that some of the people in this story are my friends and, without any exaggeration, some of them are my personal heroes. I won't pretend not to love and admire them. Even so, I know from up close and personal observation that they are not saints, and their admirers who put them on a pedestal do them a disservice. By the same token, I won't pretend not to hold in utter contempt the people I believe to be the "bad guys". I am most definitely a partisan in this story. I make no pretense of objectivity.

Despite my lack of objectivity, I believe my version of the story to be true. I know the people involved and I was present when a lot of the events happened. In addition to my own recollections of the events I personally witnessed, I have interviewed the people involved and dozens of others who knew the participants at various times in their lives.

The reports in the press have alternatively (and, I think, improperly) both lionized and vilified these women. My view of them falls somewhere in between.

Mother Mercy was a faithful servant of the orphanage from the first day she arrived, and a faithful servant of her Community from the day she took her first vows until the day she died.

From outward appearances, with the exception of her tendency to swear, she was almost a model nun. She was, however, an agnostic. She knew she could not understand the nature of God, if He existed, so she did not waste any time or effort trying to explore or understand the spiritual realm. She did not care about what might happen after she (or anyone) died. She did not care very much one way or the other if there was a Heaven or a Hell. Her response to questions about those issues was, "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now I got work to do." What happened after she died was of no concern to her.

She hated the Roman Catholic Church with a black venom that was hard to listen to on the rare occasions she discussed it. But, she loved God's people with all of her heart and soul, and she devoted her life to taking care of the lucky portion of Christ's flock who were entrusted to her care.

In the process, she took care of many more people than her small Community. Some have gone so far as to say she saved the Roman Church in America and should be nominated for sainthood. I told her about that during what turned out to be our last visit before she died.

Her response was: "Oh, dear God, I hope not! It's been bad enough to spend my life-time as a slave to the Church. I'd hate like hell to spend eternity that way, too."

** _Amen_ **

About the Author

Meredith Morgan writes novels for and about strong women, self-publishes them as eBooks at  http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/MeredithMorgan and promotes them online. Originally from the Midwest, she now live in Florida. Besides writing, her passions are walking the beach, reading and cooking.

For a more detailed bio, see her website at sites.google.com/site/meredithrmorgan/ Visit her blog at meredith-morgan.blogspot.com/, where she posts book reviews, links to other writing blogs, and muses about her writing process. Follow her on  http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000079274078 or Twitter (@meredithmorgan).
