Changing Habits Read online

  “I’m pretty sure Jenny’s had her eye on Dr. Murray, too.”

  Frankly Joanna didn’t blame the other nurse. He was everything a woman could want in a man.

  That night Joanna knelt before Sister Superior for the weekly Chapter of Faults. Her heart was heavy, the load of guilt weighing upon her shoulders.

  Although Joanna knew she couldn’t be held responsible for her dreams, she suffered from repeated pangs of guilt. She’d invited Dr. Murray—she refused to call him Tim again—into her thought life. In the process, she was risking serious trouble, jeopardizing her vows and her emotional health. Furthermore, she was setting herself up for major disappointment.

  “Sister Superior, I confess before you and Almighty God a weakness in my thought life.” She paused, debating how much to elaborate. She heard herself say something vague about “inappropriate reactions” and then all at once, on her knees with the entire convent looking on, she broke into huge sobs. She didn’t know why she was weeping or how to stop.

  An hour later, Joanna was called before Sister Eloise. “Tell me what has upset you so much,” the older nun said gently.

  Joanna reached for her handkerchief and blew her nose. Her eyes were puffy and her nose felt raw. Still, the tears came and she couldn’t seem to make herself quit.

  “Sister.” Once more Sister Superior urged her to speak.

  “Oh, Sister Eloise, I’m afraid I’ve done something foolish.”

  The other nun waited patiently as Joanna struggled for words. “There’s a physician at St. Elizabeth’s—and…and I’ve let my attraction for him build in my mind.” She hid her face, fearing the revulsion the other nun might feel toward her.

  “Sister, you are still a woman. It’s only natural for you to be attracted to a man. We took a vow of chastity, but that doesn’t mean we have no heart or no feelings.”

  Joanna hadn’t expected Sister Superior to be sympathetic to her predicament.

  “Does this physician return your feelings?”

  A week earlier she might have answered yes, but now she knew better. “No…he’s involved with another nurse.”

  “I see,” Sister Eloise said after a long pause. “And that upsets you, doesn’t it?”

  Joanna felt torn. She wanted Dr. Murray to be happy and to have a good life. He was a talented surgeon, but more than that he genuinely cared for his patients. She knew, too, that one day he’d be a wonderful husband and father. He’d marry someone else, someone free to return his love, and that awareness brought an ache to her heart she dared not examine.

  “I want him to be happy,” Joanna whispered, her voice ravaged with emotion.

  The other nun nodded approvingly. “How can I help you?”

  Joanna didn’t think anyone could help her through this. She felt sick to her stomach now, as though she was coming down with a bout of the flu.

  “You see this physician routinely, do you?”

  Joanna inclined her head.

  “If you worked in a different part of the hospital, would that help?”

  So her Superior was going to have her transferred to another floor. Perhaps that would be for the best; perhaps then Joanna might get her life back into perspective. “I think…that would be a good thing, Sister.”

  The other nun promised to see to it.

  Although Joanna knew that a transfer was in motion, she didn’t expect it to happen quite so quickly. On Monday she learned she was being sent to work in the Emergency Room, assigned to the swing shift. Her entire schedule had been altered. She wasn’t given the opportunity to tell the other nurses she’d worked with about the change or to say goodbye. More importantly, she didn’t see Dr. Murray again.

  Two days later he sought her out. “You might have said something about a transfer,” he said, interrupting her as she dressed a young woman’s wound. He completely ignored her patient. The woman, a housewife who’d cut herself with a bread knife, stared up at him.

  “I apologize,” Joanna said to the woman. “Dr. Fuller will be in to give you the stitches in a moment.” She turned to glare at Dr. Murray.

  He followed her out of the room.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Why’d you ask to be transferred?”

  “The answer to that should be obvious.”

  “Unfortunately it isn’t that easy, so spell it out for me.”

  She wasn’t sure he could handle the truth any more than she could admit it. “I don’t believe it’s a good idea for us to see each other again.”

  “Fine, you want to skip the occasional stop at the Dairy Queen, that’s perfectly all right with me. But there’s no reason to drop out of sight for three days.”

  “I didn’t drop out of sight.”

  “No, you disappeared.”

  Joanna couldn’t remember ever seeing him this angry. His face was red and he obviously had to make an effort to keep his voice controlled.

  “You don’t understand,” Joanna whispered.

  “Explain it to me.”

  “I can’t see you again. Not at the Dairy Queen, not here, not anywhere.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She knew he’d ask but she didn’t have an answer for him. Not one she could live with for the rest of her life. “Please don’t ask me that—just accept that I wanted this transfer.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want, Joanna?”

  “Sister Joanna,” she corrected.

  He didn’t say anything for a while. “Sister Joanna,” he repeated, frowning darkly. “That’s all the answer I need.” Then he was gone. The way he left told her he would abide by her wishes.

  She’d never see him again.

  28

  SISTER KATHLEEN

  On All Saints’ Day, a week after Kathleen gave notice that she could no longer work on the church books, she stopped at the rectory to find out if a replacement had been hired. There was information she needed to convey to the new person—if there was a new person. Father Sanders had had plenty of time to hire a bookkeeper, but thus far she’d seen no evidence of anyone stepping into her role.

  She refused to let him talk her into continuing in the position; a few words of praise and encouragement weren’t going to persuade her to stay on.

  She carefully rehearsed her speech in case she needed it. Father Doyle had insisted she get out before she became so entangled in the mess that escape would be impossible. She’d taken his advice and spoken to Father Sanders right away. The older priest had pleaded with her to reconsider, but Kathleen had held her ground. She wanted out—and the instant she met Father Yates she was even more sure of it.

  Unfortunately Father Sanders was gone when she arrived and, despite his promise the week before, there was no replacement for Kathleen to train. Now she’d have to talk to Father Yates, a prospect that sent shivers of apprehension down her backbone.

  As Father Doyle had implied, the new priest was an unpleasant man who seemed to find little in life with which to be happy. He was often harsh and unfriendly toward parishioners. His manner bordered on rude.

  He’d been at St. Peter’s a little more than a week, and already Kathleen had heard a number of complaints. She didn’t think he was a bad priest, just an angry one, and that anger seemed to come in the form of a sharp tongue and judgmental attitude.

  “Father Sanders is out?” Kathleen asked the housekeeper in a tentative voice.

  Mrs. O’Malley nodded. “I’d disappear myself if I could,” she said. She glanced toward the ceiling and shuddered. In a conspiratorial whisper, she added, “He doesn’t like my cooking.”

  The housekeeper didn’t need to identify whom she meant. “My meatloaf is too salty, my mashed potatoes taste like library glue, and he complained about my pumpkin pie. At lunch today he said he’d tasted better black bean soup out of a can.” Her voice quavered with indignation as she repeated the criticism.

  “You’re a wonderful cook,” Kathleen told her. The houseke
eper made melt-in-your-mouth biscuits and cooked delectable meals for the priests. Her Irish stew rivaled the best Kathleen had ever tasted. Feeding the priests well was Mrs. O’Malley’s mission in life, so Father Yates’s complaints had deeply wounded her pride.

  “Thank you for saying that,” Mrs. O’Malley said, sniffling. “It’s a shame, you know, about losing Father Doyle. It won’t be the same around here.”

  “How’s Father Sanders?” Kathleen asked.

  The cook met her eyes. “Poorly, I’m afraid,” she said with a sigh.

  The message was clear. Father was drinking again, more than ever. Losing Father Doyle and having to deal with Father Yates had tipped the scales for the priest.

  Footsteps could be heard coming from the priests’ living quarters. Mrs. O’Malley leapt as if someone had pinched her from behind and hurried back to the kitchen.

  Kathleen returned to her small office and sat at the desk, thinking she’d better speak with Father Yates today. She waited for him to acknowledge her. However, he continued down the hallway without as much as a nod in her direction.

  After another moment, Kathleen approached him, knocking politely on his office door.

  The priest glared up at her from his desk. “Can’t this wait?” he asked, frowning.

  Kathleen stiffened at his lack of welcome but forged ahead. “I need to speak to you this afternoon. At your convenience, Father.”

  Scowl lines marked his otherwise attractive face. “What is it?” he demanded.

  “Today’s my last day doing the church books,” she said. “I told Father Sanders a week ago that I could no longer continue to teach full-time and do the bookkeeping, too.”

  “Overburdened, are you, Sister?”

  She detected more than a hint of sarcasm, but chose to ignore it. “When Father Sanders asked me to take on this task, I was told it would be temporary. But apparently the previous bookkeeper has decided…not to return.” The woman had resigned in August, but Kathleen didn’t want to expose Father Sanders entirely.

  “Now you’re walking away as well.”

  “I did tell Father Sanders of my intentions two weeks ago. He’s had that period of time to hire a replacement.”

  The other priest refused to look at her. “Which he hasn’t done, now has he?”

  “I…I wouldn’t know.”

  “Fine, you can be on your way.”

  “Thank you.” Relief rushed through her. But when Kathleen turned to leave, he stopped her.

  “To be honest, Sister, it doesn’t surprise me that you’ve quit.”

  She made no comment but clasped her hands in front of her as he continued to write.

  “As it happens, I had a chance to go over the books this morning,” he said. “I don’t suppose you know of my own bookkeeping background?”

  Kathleen froze. He must have noticed the discrepancies between the donations and the deposits. She’d hoped that with Father Doyle making up the difference, the matter would settle itself.

  “There appear to be a number of small…deliberate errors.”

  Kathleen didn’t agree or disagree.

  He glanced up and met her eyes before she had a chance to lower her own. In those brief seconds, Kathleen read his contempt. He was about to say more when the rectory door opened and in strolled Father Sanders.

  The priest staggered a couple of steps, then paused in the office doorway. She could smell the liquor on him and immediately noticed his unfocused gaze.

  “I’m happy to see you, Father,” the other priest said with open disgust. “You’re just in time for this rather unfortunate discussion with Sister Kathleen. As you know, she’s chosen to give up the bookkeeping.”

  “Fine job she’s done, too,” Father Sanders said approvingly.

  “I disagree, Father.”

  “There’s a problem?” Father Sanders sounded shocked. As though he found it difficult to remain standing, he leaned against the doorjamb. The stench of liquor seemed to permeate the office; she was sure Father Yates smelled it, too.

  The new priest sat back in his chair. “Your silence doesn’t do you credit, Sister Kathleen.” He waited, obviously expecting her to speak. She didn’t defend herself and wouldn’t.

  “I believe you owe this parish an explanation.”

  Her head lowered, Kathleen bit her tongue to keep from defending her actions. She had done nothing wrong. If there was a crime, it was in not reporting the shortfalls to the bishop. Little good that would have done her, she reasoned sadly. Father Doyle had tried, and look where it had gotten him.

  “I don’t know what possessed Father Sanders to ask you to work here in the first place,” he said, turning his scowl on the older priest. “It was a bad idea from the first.”

  How nice to know her efforts were appreciated, Kathleen thought to herself, struggling to hide her irritation. For two months, three and often four times a week, she’d spent hours balancing the church’s books, and this tongue-lashing was all the thanks she received.

  “Seeing that you have nothing to say, you leave me no option,” Father Yates said in a way that told her this would bring him plea-sure rather than regret. “I’m going to have a talk with Sister Eloise regarding the questionable methods you’ve employed.”

  She nodded, hoping, praying, that Sister Superior would realize she was in an impossible situation. Perhaps it had been wrong to protect the older priest, but she’d followed Father Doyle’s lead. His name, however, would not pass her lips. He’d already paid dearly for his efforts to fulfill the bishop’s expectations of him and to help Father Sanders.

  “May I go now, Father?” she asked her voice small despite her attempt to conceal her reaction.

  “By all means,” he said, standing. “You’re a disgrace to the good name of St. Bridget’s Sisters of the Assumption.”

  Kathleen nearly ran out of the rectory, so desperate was she to leave. The afternoon was cold and she was chilled to the bone by the time she arrived at the convent. She’d barely stepped in the door when Sister Eloise asked to see her.

  “Is what Father Yates told me true?” she demanded the moment Kathleen entered her office. Before Kathleen had a chance to reply, she was hit with a second question. “Did you alter the books?”

  The answer wasn’t easy. Kathleen had altered the books, but only slightly and only to correct the discrepancies once Father Doyle had replaced the missing cash. “I…it isn’t as bad as it looks, Sister.”

  The older nun was clearly angry. “Is it true you took money for your own purposes and then repaid it at a later date?”

  “Absolutely not!” Kathleen cried, aghast that anyone would believe such an outrageous lie.

  “That’s what Father Yates says happened. He has proof.”

  “I’m not the one who took the money,” Kathleen said reluctantly. “I wasn’t the one who made the deposits.” The fact that Father Yates had blamed her when he knew Father Sanders had done it was shocking to Kathleen. She hadn’t expected behavior so…so calculated, so unconscionable, from a priest.

  Her defense didn’t appear to placate her superior. “Are you telling me you know who did and you said nothing?”

  Kathleen nodded.

  “This is even worse than I imagined. Father Yates is right. Disciplinary action is necessary. I’m going to sleep on this, Sister, but I think it would be best if you returned to the motherhouse for a period of contemplation to acknowledge your sins.”

  Kathleen couldn’t take in what she was hearing. “You’re sending me away?”

  “You’ve disgraced us, Sister.”

  “But…but you haven’t heard my side of it.” Tears clogged her throat as she struggled to get the words out.

  “Nothing you say will change the fact that you were dishonest in dealing with the church’s books. You have ridiculed us all.”

  Kathleen opened her mouth to explain, but Sister Eloise was too angry to listen. Dragging Father Doyle’s name into this mess would do more harm than good. He
was her friend, her confidant and he’d done what he could to protect her. Now she had to return the favor.

  Still, the unfairness of the situation was more than Kathleen could endure. “I don’t deserve this, Sister.”

  The older nun frowned at her. “As I recall, you were certainly eager to accept the job. ‘Practical experience’ would benefit you, or so I remember you saying. This is what you wanted. I let you do it against my better judgment. I was not in favor of the idea, but in the spirit of cooperation between the rectory and the convent, I gave in.

  “I knew it would end like this, and I blame you, Sister, for your refusal to tame your ego and for surrendering to foolish pride.”

  The silence that followed seemed deafening.

  “Very well, Sister,” Kathleen whispered.

  “You will do without dinner and be ready to leave tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Sister.”

  Kathleen left the office and had to find a chair so she could sit down, she was trembling so badly. The shaking didn’t seem to abate as she burned with anger and humiliation.

  For almost ten years Kathleen had given her life to the church and to God, and this was the thanks she’d received. The priests were paid decent salaries but because she’d taken a vow of poverty, as all nuns did, she worked for a pittance. Kathleen taught school, sewed her own clothes, cooked, cleaned and lived a Spartan life. Her reward was loneliness and a variety of thankless tasks. For the first time since she’d entered the convent, Kathleen began to question the rightness of staying.

  That night, unable to sleep, her stomach growling, Kathleen packed a small bag. She could only imagine what the other nuns would say or what they’d be told once she was gone. It would soon be apparent that she was leaving in disgrace.

  The doorbell chimed in the distance. Then again, more insistently. Two long peals followed by a burst of short ones.

  She didn’t know who was on duty, but obviously whoever it was had gone to bed. Since she had yet to disrobe, Kathleen took the task upon herself.

  To her surprise, an agitated young man was pacing on the other side of the door.