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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781450232197 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 07/20/2010 |
| Pages: | 316 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.71(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Separation Of Faith
A NovelBy Cheri Laser
iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2010 Cheri LaserAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-3219-7
Chapter One
July 1945
A brutal act of violence is hard to imagine on the serene grounds of a convent. But that afternoon the idea had been hurriedly conceived and was just as quickly being set into motion. The moderate winds whipping through the narrow mountain valley were growing stronger and began blowing the white folds of the young postulant's veil up around her face, obscuring her view of what was going on around her.
Abby Ryan, formally referred to as Sister Mary Abigail, had been sitting in the gazebo, reading through a stack of pamphlets that one of the convent's retreat guests had collected in villages, churches, and other landmarks throughout Europe. He was an army officer and had been among the first waves of soldiers returning to the States after German forces surrendered to the Allies three months earlier. Like so many others who'd seen combat in that theater, he'd not only come home with physical injuries but also with the prickly inner demons that continued to wage battle against the soldiers, even though the war was now virtually over.
Consequently, Lady of the Valley Convent, along with various religious and secular institutions nationwide, had begun holding retreats catering to servicemen. The small additional revenues from registrations helped sustain the convent's operations, while the remote, idyllic valley setting offered a place where weary and troubled soldiers could tend to their fractured bodies and souls.
As a postulant-the only one currently in residence and thus going through this first stage of training by herself-Abby was still free to carry on conversations with outsiders until she took her interim vows in September. So she had been engaged to help the husband and wife team that drove up from Spokane to run three five-day retreats each month. Her exposure to the soldiers and their war stories, overheard while she was serving their meals, had instilled in her a reverence for all they'd accomplished on those unmerciful battlefields. But more importantly, she had become acutely aware, for the first time in her nineteen years of life, of the overwhelming power and presence of evil in the world and the need for an even greater power and presence of good in order for peace to prevail.
This awareness offered some validation of her decision to join this community of sisters, although increasing doubts had been plaguing her of late. She longed for the opportunity to talk about her misgivings with her friend Tess, who would surely offer her the wisest of counsel. But as a novice and thus already in the cloistered part of the convent, Tess would largely remain off limits for at least another three months until Abby became cloistered as well.
She could tell that her hour of free time was nearly over just by the angle of light in the sky. The pamphlets, which had momentarily transported her across the world, had been gathered together again and refastened with a rubber band, just as the soldier had given them to her. But her tranquility was abruptly shattered as an overpowering force plowed into her from behind, viciously shoving her to the ground and propelling the pamphlets out of her hands. Somehow a scream managed to escape her lips just before her nose and face slammed into the gazebo's stone floor.
The weight of the attacker on her back was excruciating, and the acid burn of terror began choking her as she felt hands reaching beneath her skirt-grabbing, shoving, probing. The multiple layers of her habit's fabric were frustrating those movements and buying her precious seconds, although her prayers of thanks would have to come later. Struggling to catch her breath, she was shaken even further when she realized that more than one person was in the gazebo with her-somebody on her back and someone else with the hands.
Time was oddly compressing and expanding in the same instant, creeping in one element like slow motion while, in the other, the gazebo walls whirled around her from her vantage point on the cold ground. Then the scene appeared to freeze as she felt the weight on her spine lighten and shift while the hands hesitated, as if rethinking their next movement.
Mobilizing a strength wrenched from some unfamiliar place within her, she surged over from her stomach to her back, throwing both attackers briefly off balance. Without wasting a moment, she yanked her thighs against her chest and, with every ounce of fury she could muster, rammed the heels of her heavy black postulant shoes up and forward into one of the blurred faces staring down at her. He grabbed at his eyes and began shouting obscenities as the other man lunged at her, missing her as she rolled over on her knees and struggled to stand up.
Suddenly, a wild commotion erupted as other voices were being added to the mix. Staggering to her feet and raising her hands to catch the blood dripping from her nose and mouth, she turned and saw four figures in olive green fatigues drag the two attackers out of the gazebo and throw them face down on the grass. Once the pair had been subdued, with their wrists somehow tethered behind their backs, one of the olive green figures came into focus-the soldier who'd given her the pamphlets.
"Oh my God, Sister, are you all right?" he asked, his anxious voice and expression both blessings to behold.
"Yes," she stammered. "I ... How ...?"
He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently lowered her to the built-in bench encircling the inside of the gazebo. She felt his arm wrap around her and, as she realized she was going to pass out, she believed that God was speaking to her through this calamity and through this handsome warrior, who had just saved her from far more than a rape.
* * *
The 1942 Chevrolet Woody station wagon-a gift from the Archdiocese so the convent could offer transportation for retreat guests-bumped south on Highway 395. They were driving away from Our Lady of the Valley's cloistered Garden-of-Eden setting, away from Tess, en route to Spokane and the train station, where Abby would begin her journey home.
Seated in the front passenger's seat, she looked to her left at the uniformed driver. Finding his familiar face comforting, she decided to let him know she was awake.
"After all of this," she said, shifting her body so she could lean her back against the car door and look right at him, "I can't believe that I don't even know your name-and I'm terrible at reading the markings on uniforms, so I'm not sure about your rank or how to address you."
He smiled and took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her. "My name is Sinclair Mellington," he replied, his voice still the most reassuring sound she'd heard in a long while, "and I'm an army captain-but just plain Sinclair will be fine."
"All right ... Sinclair. I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to thank you sufficiently. Not only did you rescue me, but volunteering to drive me into Spokane was unbelievably kind of you, since this is taking almost a whole day out of your retreat time."
"Don't you worry, Sister," he began, the joie de vivre from his smile lifting her spirits without effort. "I'll still have three days left after I get back to the convent to catch up on whatever I'm missing, which couldn't possibly be better than this anyway."
"That's very nice of you to say."
"It's the truth. And besides, I don't deserve your thanks as much as my three buddies. They're the ones who saw what was happening to you through the window. I only ran along to help." She didn't respond right away, and an uncomfortable hush filled the car. "I'm sorry, Sister," he said, his contrite tone breaking the silence. "Did I just say the wrong thing?"
"Don't be silly," she answered, trying to find a way to make things feel less awkward. "And rather than referring to me as 'Sister,' I think that just plain Abby is more appropriate now. Abigail Ryan to be precise."
"What? I thought you were only going home for a short break." His concern sounded genuine and oddly endearing.
"No. I'm not coming back."
"But this wasn't your fault! Surely they can't suspend you, or fire you-or whatever they call it-for something like this, can they?"
"Certainly they could, I suppose. I haven't earned any rights up here yet. But this is my decision, not theirs-and yes, I do believe I'm the one responsible. I've been too friendly with those maintenance men, visiting with them when I wasn't supposed to during my free time. Somehow I must have led them to believe that ..."
"Wait a minute!" Sinclair interrupted. "What maintenance men are you talking about?"
"The ones who live in the bunkhouses on the back side of the property-employees who take care of the grounds. I don't know how the sisters could get along without them, and even though their souls are a bit rough, they've always been very respectful, until now."
"But Sister Abby," he persisted, "the two men who attacked you were not maintenance men! They were from some town north of Kettle Falls, on the other side of the river. They'd been drinking, went for a drive, and ran out of gas. Apparently, they were walking outside the convent gate when they saw you in the gazebo and jumped the front fence. You had no fault in this whatsoever! I hope you didn't make a rushed decision based on wrong information. Are you sure you want to leave?"
She nodded and turned away from him, watching through the window as the station wagon hugged the two-lane road snaking through the rural landscape. Her absence of a response signaled the end of their conversation for the moment. Yes, I do want to leave, she thought, trying to reassure herself. Whoever those men were, I think they're part of a message being sent to me-and this time I'd better pay attention.
* * *
Lady of the Valley Convent had been tucked away on forty acres of land just south of Kettle Falls, Washington-ninety miles north of Spokane-for eleven years. From the time the sisters had settled the property in 1934, there had been a great deal of controversy throughout the valley about the odd congregation. But the eventual discovery that they were not the least bit dangerous, and would be keeping completely to themselves, resulted in a gradual acceptance of the unconventional new residents by the valley's conservative farming community.
Abby had first been introduced to Lady of the Valley through her periodic cross-state train trips from Seattle to Kettle Falls to visit Tess-known now as Sister Veronica-following the girls' high school graduation in 1943. Initially, her goal had been to convince Tess to leave what Abby viewed at the time as a form of imprisonment. She couldn't understand how Tess had allowed herself to be coerced into joining, and she was increasingly fearful for her friend's safety.
But the more she visited, the greater sense of peace she began to experience while she was there, especially with the uncertainties of the war impacting every American, sparing few citizens at least part of the sacrifice, on one level or another. Over time, she came to understand the convent's mission and to admire and appreciate the nuns' commitment to their vocations and their obvious affection for one another, despite their quirky personality differences.
During a Thanksgiving trip to see Tess in 1944, when Abby was a sophomore at the University of Washington, she agreed to stay on for a thirty-day period of "exploration," which led after only a few weeks to her decision to give the lifestyle a more lengthy trial. Nothing else she'd experienced-neither her journalism classes at the university, nor her part-time job at a military administration facility in Seattle, and certainly none of the men she'd ever dated-had given her any meaningful sense of direction. Lady of the Valley was where she seemed to have found her purpose, and that development had come as an even bigger surprise to Abby herself than to her family and friends, who were universally stunned at her decision.
Becoming a nun had always been the obsessive province of Tess-Therese Elizabeth McDowell-who'd been Abby's closest friend and next-door neighbor in Seattle since they were born, five months apart (Tess first) in 1925. They were both "only children," unusual in Irish Catholic families, but their parents spent so much time together that the girls viewed each other more as sisters than as friends and thus never felt the least bit deprived of a sibling.
Having a curiosity about religious vocations wasn't unusual for students attending St. Agnes School from kindergarten through high school in the 1930s and '40s. But despite their immersion in catechism and the scheduling power of church and school calendars, Abby knew that Tess was the only one in their circle of friends who actually took every detail seriously. By the time the girls were ten, Tess was speaking regularly about becoming a nun, setting herself openly apart as having been "called."
The saving grace for Abby, on the other hand, was the fact that St. Agnes was coeducational. Not that her interest in the opposite sex, or in sex at all, was ever licentious. She simply loved being in and around the company of boys, fascinated by the divergence of their interests, their preoccupation with playing in the dirt, their insatiable curiosity, their fearlessness, their contagious laughter. Even their conversations and vocabularies seemed to be of a different species, and Abby never tired of studying them. They didn't seem to mind her hanging around, either, finding both her admiration of them and her burgeoning dark-haired, emerald-eyed beauty easy to tolerate.
When the girls were fifteen, Tess began warning Abby about the potential of being misunderstood. "I've been overhearing things," Tess had admonished gently. "The boys think you're flirting with them and inviting their attention, if you know what I mean."
"That's absurd," Abby had countered. "They've known me since we were kids and couldn't possibly think I'm that sort of person."
"I'm sure that's true, but they're getting older now. So are we. Lots of things are changing about all of us, and I just wish you'd be more careful about what you say and do when you're around them."
"Thank you for being so protective, my dear Tess," Abby had replied, nudging her friend with her elbow and flashing the alluring smile that was part of what worried Tess so much. "But you have way too many sinful thoughts in that nun-to-be head of yours."
* * *
How prophetic, Abby considered, remembering her friend's words as she continued to ride in silence while her savior soldier drove into Spokane. And how embarrassing this whole thing has turned out to be. In fact, the convent's prioress had been so mortified about the situation that she would most likely not have called the police at all if the army retreat guests hadn't been there. But the soldiers had insisted, making the fairly obvious point that the two men in makeshift handcuffs needed to be taken into custody by someone in local authority.
Anticipating that Abby would be asked questions, the prioress had moved her into the convent's public front parlor, where lay people and open conversations were permitted. There Abby waited for the emergency help to arrive, stretched out on the sofa in front of the stone fireplace and raised hearth, with blankets wrapped around her shoulders and legs.
Sipping hot tea through swollen lips while holding ice cubes in a towel over her eyes and nose, she was also beset with personal humiliation. But she'd been containing her emotions, not allowing herself to release a single tear-until her friend suddenly appeared in the room, sitting down on an upholstered wing chair that she'd pushed up alongside the sofa.
"My dear Abby," she asked anxiously as she placed her hand on Abby's arm. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, Tess," Abby replied, her voice echoing in her ears through her battered and swollen nasal passages. "I mean ... Sister Veronica. I'm sorry. I'm just so happy to see you."
"Please try to relax. The police and medical assistance will be here shortly-and I won't tell anyone if you call me Tess," she added with a coy smile.
Abby did her best to smile back. "I can't believe they let you out of there to come visit me."
Tess withdrew her hand from Abby's arm and noticeably stiffened. "You say that as if you still believe I'm in some sort of detention. Remember, that's where you're planning to be too."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Separation Of Faith by Cheri Laser Copyright © 2010 by Cheri Laser. Excerpted by permission.
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