Sister Sebastian was surprised to hear from Bud. Yes, she did remember him, quite warmly. She wondered what would have happened had she not become a religious. It wouldn’t hurt to e-mail back, she thought.

 

Bud, how good to hear from you. I offer my prayers for Bernice. I don’t believe I knew her. I’m still teaching. With the shortage of sisters there is little hope that I will return to the motherhouse until I can no longer go to the classroom. That may not be too much longer. I do hope you are in good health. Thank you for Writing.

Sister Sebastian (Emma Schmidt) CSS

 

            Bud was somewhat astonished that Emma bothered to answer. He thought maybe her vows would have required some other action or reaction. He acknowledged her reply but did nothing more at the time. Nonetheless, once in awhile when he was surfing for news and opinion, scanning a few blogs, he would wonder about the old classmate-turned-nun.

 

            Hearing from Bud Abernathy awakened memories for Sister Sebastian. She started thinking more andmore of herself as Emma after these – what was it, five decades? – years. Those double dates, running around in Sam Fleming’s convertible with Bud and what’s-her-name, were a lot of fun. A lot more fun than dealing with these eighth graders! Maybe Bud remembers those days better than I do, she thought.

 

Bud, I began thinking recently of Sam Fleming’s convertible and the times we had back then. Do you recall those occasions? Maybe you could refresh my memory?

Best wishes,

Sister Sebastian

 

      Bud was more than happy to fill in her memory. Now that he was spending more time in the house it gave him something to do. He recounted in detail the dances and the old hangouts, leaving out things, innocent though they may be, he thought the nun might find embarrassing. His memories brought on her own recollections, which she would e-mail back. Soon she was spending more time in the classroom after the final afternoon bell rang in front of one of the computers. E-mails between the former classmates became quite frequent.

 

            Their e-mails seemed quite innocent. They were old friends. But the back and forth on the Internet became more frequent. Soon it became a necessity for Bud. Obviously, Sister – Emma – was finding it comforting. Perhaps more comforting than prayer and her other religious duties. She wondered what was happening in her elder years. She found it more natural to think of herself using her given name; until recently it had only been Sister Sebastian. She had solemnly promised in her youth to be the spouse of Christ. Had she forgot?

 

I’M GOING TO BE IN WASHINGTON FOR THE FOURTH. ANY CHANCE I CAN COME AND VISIT YOU?

 

                She hesitated before answering. A visit couldn’t do any harm, she reasoned. She finally e-mailed that she would be happy to see him after all these years.

 

            Bud phoned before he drove his rented car to the convent. The sister assigned to be porter – a term used as in the days at the motherhouse – answered the door and summoned Sister Sebastian. He, of course, had aged and showed it with gray, thinning hair and some facial wrinkles. He was not exactly slim. Her face looked remarkably young under her veil and wimple, a characteristic shared by most nuns that still wore the habit. They sat in the parlor and chatted. Small talk. Both were a little uncomfortable. When he left, he took both her hands and thanked her for her seeing him.

 

            She found the visit hard to forget. She had learned something of his life since they last saw each other, and she filled in her transfers by the order for him. She had more to think about than he, as she imagined. He had spoken of his work, a few cases, something about the success of the children, only a bit about Bernice; hardly anything about their differences and breakup. She remembered with a little emotional shiver the manly texture of his hands as he bid farewell. That memory seemed to return often in a way that became temptation-like. She tried to shake that feeling, knowing that one is not responsible for what jumped into the mind, responsibility arriving only with the willful acceptance of temptation.

 

            Bud, upon returning home, accepted that his old girlfriend was a nun. He had enjoyed seeing her again, but her life and his were indeed separate, by distance and vocation. He found her, however, still a pleasant person. They continued to exchange e-mails, but one did take him aback.

 

Bud, I’ve been thinking much about our visit. I felt most comfortable to be with you. Sometimes my obligations here can be stifling. I don’t admit that to many people, if any. Please keep writing.

 

      What was she trying to say? Bud didn’t know what to make of it, but he decided he would send fewer e-mails to the good nun. He would continue to report on the doings of their acquaintances of the past, but that was about it.

            Sister Sebastian continued to get caught up in flights of nostalgia. Those youthful days became more than real to her. She dwelt upon them as she should have been dwelling on the life to come, the purpose of all Christians, but the especial meditation of vowed religious. She was treading on dangerous ground when she longed for the past, now a fantasy.

            Her spiritual director was not of much help. The past was all encompassing to Sister Sebastian, the future based on the past. The director counseled living –and praying – in the present. Such sensible advice was ignored.

 

            After the prescribed time, ecclesiastic authorities granted Emma Schmidt lay status.

 

            Emma homeless and penniless found herself back in Ohio, thanks to the generosity of one of her birth sisters. That sister and her husband were empty-nesters and had a room for her. Now it was time for a seventy-something ex-nun to find work, not exactly an easy task. Her computer skills were only rudimentary. Thanks to laws banning age discrimination she was able to find clerical work in the state government. That led to her renting her own apartment. For some reason, probably a stirring of conscience, she was slow to tell Bud about her change in life styles, although she had informed him – by e-mail, of course – that she was no longer a nun. The reality of being on her own did modify the fantasies that led to her departure from the convent. Yet Bud was still on her mind.

 

Bud, now that I’m back in town, perhaps I could see you again, catch you up on what has been happening. Emma

 

      Bud was not thrilled at that prospect, but he was curious. They arranged a meeting at a downtown restaurant. Their meeting went well. They enjoyed the meal and their shared reminisces. Other restaurant meals and movies followed.

<FONTFACE=ARIAL>            Emma had grown up in a household of homemade meals. Cooking came naturally to a girl in such a family. The meal, then, was no hurdle when she invited Bud to her apartment for dinner ---- beef stew, Waldorf salad, biscuits from scratch, and apple pie. That went over pretty well for the ex-cop. Their conversation went from thinking back to their mothers’ cooking to mutual friends, to past dates. More such meetings followed over the next few months. Their relationship became closer, their feelings more intertwined. Marriage came up in discussions. A proposal was finally made, almost in a business-like manner for people in their seventies.

 

            Emma was to meet Bud at the clerk’s office in city hall at 2. They had found a priest that would marry them in a quiet way at a scheduled morning Mass. The cleric had waved the usual period of marriage preparation, a requirement of the diocese. Emma felt some trepidation. This was late in life for a step most women took in their late teens to mid-twenties, women who had not been wed spiritually to their Savior. As she thought things over she became more lost in thought and was not as concerned about the passage of time as she might have been. The wall clock showed 3:25 and Bud had not yet appeared. She was still pondering what might have happened when a city employee urged her to leave. “I must lock the office now,” she heard.

 

            Bud finally telephoned her that evening. No excuses. He blurted out” “I’m sorry, I really am, but I just couldn’t do go through with it. I didn’t have the guts to show up and say no. I got used to being a bachelor.” He also did not have the courage to tell Emma that marrying an ex-nun was just more than he could imagine or handle. For someone schooled by teaching sisters it just did not seem right.

            Emma wasn’t stunned. She had pretty much guessed his real feelings. She said little. Wished him well, but offered him no solace, just as he offered her none. She really had no tears as she knelt to say her prayers.

 

            It was days later she remembered seeing Mother Angelica on EWTN, at a time after the television nun had suffered a stroke. She spoke to the camera out of one side of her mouth, he cheek under the patch over her left eye seemed paralyzed. Emma remembered Mother Angelica saying something like, “Yes I am miserable, but my soul feels closer to God.” She advised a caller to the live show to “give your troubles to the Lord and go in peace.”

            That was worth a try, Emma thought.