Chapter 3
Sister Josephine’s study lay at the heart of the convent, a chamber where time itself seemed to slow beneath the weight of prayerful contemplation.
I entered quietly, my footsteps falling without sound on the worn wooden planks.
Sister Josephine sat behind her simple desk, her weathered hands folded around her rosary, a figure of frail mortality yet unyielding faith.
“I’ve spoken with Desiderius,” I settled into the chair opposite her. “His monks have been tracked.”
She nodded, unsurprised. “The times grow darker by the day, child. Not only for those who suffer with your condition.”
Shadows danced across the vaulted ceiling as the draft from the corridor stirred the candle flames. The gothic arches above us seemed to gather the darkness into their embrace, as though the very architecture of our sanctuary understood the need for concealment.
“The war in Europe casts long shadows even here,” Sister Josephine continued, her rheumy eyes reflecting the candle’s glow.
“The Germans are treated as spies by their neighbors. Italian families find their businesses vandalized. Yesterday, the baker three streets over—his windows were broken, and ‘go back to Italy’ painted across his door.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said. “The paranoia spreads like an infection. People see enemies everywhere.”
“Fear makes monsters of us all,” she replied. “Though some of us have more reason to fear than others.”
I rose and moved to the window, careful to stand to one side as I peered through the heavy curtains. The night beyond was quiet, though that offered little comfort. “Desiderius believes we’re being watched. Not just by ordinary citizens looking for foreign enemies, but perhaps by the Order itself.”
“Or something similar,” Sister Josephine said. She tapped a finger against a folded newspaper on her desk. “The sermons at St. Patrick’s have taken a troubling turn. Father Donovan speaks of vigilance against ‘unnatural forces’ hiding among the populace. His words echo old Order rhetoric.”
A chill passed through me, despite my body’s inability to truly feel cold. “Does he name us specifically?”
“No. Not yet. But seeds are being planted.” She sighed, the sound as fragile as autumn leaves.
“While you are here with the endorsement of Bishop Harkins, this is not his diocese. We began our work with his support, but we are not technically under his authority. The bishop here is less… aware… of such matters, or perhaps, chooses to ignore the reality our ministry has embraced. We must prepare for the possibility that our time here grows short.”
The bell wires along the wall trembled slightly as someone moved through the corridor outside. Our modest alarm system would alert us if an intruder breached our outer defenses, but it offered no protection against the slow poison of suspicion and fear that seemed to be spreading through the city.
“We cannot abandon our mission,” I said firmly. “There are too many who need what we offer.”
Sister Josephine smiled, the expression warming her gaunt face.
“I never suggested we would. The Lord’s work continues, especially in dark times.
” She reached for a letter on her desk. “Which brings me to something that may interest you. The Italian Catholic League is hosting a charity gala at the Metropolitan Opera House next week. A fundraiser for families affected by the war.”
“A public gathering,” I mused, returning to my seat. “That could be dangerous for us.”
“Or an opportunity,” she countered. “Even before you came to us, our convent has worked closely with the League. They’ve invited us to send a representative to share with some of the wealthier supporters the nature of our work.”
“The nature of our work?” I raised an eyebrow. “That will likely go over like a gluttonous turtle dove.”
Sister Josephine chuckled. “Choose your words carefully, Sister Alice. You are well suited for this effort, and I suspect your charm will likely win them over. I’d go myself, but an old woman like me, well, let’s just say that there’s an allure to youthful beauty that need not lead to unsavory desire.
A young woman, firm in her faith, committed to her vows, can be incredibly persuasive to men of means, particularly those who embrace the values of the Church. ”
I sighed. “You’re saying they’ll be attracted to me, and that’s why you’re sending me?”
Sister Josephine shook her head. “It’s nothing carnal, dear.
I’ll say it again. There’s a certain appeal, a charm, that a young sister possesses.
There’s something that strikes many as impressive about young women who’ve chosen our way of life, something that testifies to the future of the convent.
An old woman like me shows up and they might be prone to think I’m a relic, representing a ministry soon to die when I do.
When we show that our sisterhood includes young, confident, women of faith—women like yourself—it gives potential donors a certain confidence that the work we’re doing will continue for some time. ”
I shook my head. “We don’t know that it will. My time here is—“
“Your will remain here as long as the Lord desires it. The work you’re doing is important, and given the extended lifespan of those who endure your condition, it is work that will surely endure in one for or another for many years.
Besides, you do the kind of work that the League has always supported.
You help those who don’t fit in to our… larger culture…
and help them integrate into the city in a way that poses no threat to the fearful nativists. ”
I considered her suggestion, weighing the risks against potential benefits. “The opera house would be crowded. The heartbeats, the scents...”
“A perfect test of control,” Sister Josephine said, completing my thought. “For those who have progressed far enough in their journey.”
Ruth and Rebecca immediately came to mind.
My first true progeny, they’d been on this path almost as long as I was.
Both had been helped by Father O’Malley, both were further along than most of our newer aspirants.
Both had survived true trials of faith and hunger.
And yet, their temperaments were as different as flame and ice.
“Ruth would welcome the challenge,” I said. “Perhaps too eagerly. Her passionate nature drives her forward, but that same fire makes her impulsive. She sees every opportunity as a chance to prove herself.”
“And Rebecca?” Sister Josephine asked.
“Outwardly composed, but that’s a mask she wears over deeper turmoil.
” I sighed, remembering the rage that had consumed Rebecca when she first joined us.
She’d grown over the last decade, but she still struggled with the same demons.
“She maintains control through rigid discipline, but at what cost? Sometimes I fear she’s suppressing her anger rather than truly transforming it. ”
“Suppression merely delays the inevitable,” Sister Josephine observed. “True change must come from within.”
“Yet she has come so far,” I said. “Perhaps seeing the world outside these walls might help her see herself more clearly.”
The candlelight flickered, sending our shadows dancing across the stone walls.
Outside, a distant church bell marked the hour, its solemn tone reverberating through the night.
My fingers found the locket at my throat, that small talisman of purpose and commitment.
A habit that surfaced whenever uncertainty clouded my path.
“I believe they’re ready,” I decided. “Or ready enough that the attempt itself will be instructive. Ruth’s eagerness can balance Rebecca’s caution. Together, they might find an equilibrium neither could achieve alone.”
“And you?” Sister Josephine asked, her perceptive gaze missing nothing. “ You are the prioress of this unique order. How will you go?”
“I will dress modestly, though perhaps I’ll shed the habit for the night in exchange for a dress,” I finished with a wry smile. “Not that I mean to attract unsavory attentions from men, but I’ve found such men are more likely to engage me if I’m dressed accordingly.”
“It is not customary to leave the habit behind, even for a prioress. Are you suggesting you’d deceive these men into believing you’re available to them?”
“Not at all.” I chuckled a little to myself. “Though I cannot help if they make such assumptions. However, such men often harbor several sins. Their conscience condemns them when speaking to a known Sister.”
“This is not universally true.” Sister Josephine clearly didn’t approve, though I could tell from her eyes she understood.
“Many men who struggle with the flesh also know they should be better. For a Sister to speak with them openly, well, it challenges them. In a way, it gives them hope. We are a symbol of the Church, dear Alice, a sign of the coming Kingdom when the Bride of Christ will be adorned for Her Bridegroom in perfect splendor.”
“I understand,” I admitted. “But these men are not accustomed to thinking theologically. I must also admit, appearing as a woman of note might help protect Ruth and Rebecca. There are men who might not think twice about confronting a group of nuns on the street, but would think twice if they’re accompanied by a women who appears to have influence. ”
“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Sister Josephine asked. “You are a fine mentor to the Sisters, Alice, but there’s always been a part of you that’s resisted the rigor of our Rule.”
I rubbed my brow. “I intend no disobedience. I simply recognize that the Bishop gave me another mission. There may be a time when I will have to leave this place. I will never be able to make a perpetual vow.”
Sister Josephine chuckled. “I suppose a perpetual vow for one of your condition means something else than it might for a Sister whose days on this world are more… limited.”
“I’d gladly make these vows until Christ’s return if it were my choice. But my commitment to the Bishop conflicts with a perpetual vow. I recognize my situation is atypical.”
Sister Josephine stared at me a moment, something like pity in her eyes.
She understood my situation, but she also knew the anxiety it produced.
It was the truth. If I could endure the rest of my indeterminate existence in prayer, in a habit, fed by the daily Eucharist, without ever needing to engage the Order of the Morning Dawn, I’d do it.
But this was not my calling; my vocation would never lend itself to a perpetual vow.
Eventually, her expression softened. “I must admit, these are unusual times.”
I nodded. “Well, I’m nothing if not unconventional, wouldn’t you agree?”
Sister Josephine nodded, satisfaction in the set of her shoulders. “Indeed, I would. It is a regrettable fact of our station, but our convent’s work requires financial support. And the connection to the Italian community may prove valuable should our situation here grow more precarious.”
“I’ll speak with Ruth and Rebecca tonight,” I said, already anticipating Ruth’s excited response and Rebecca’s careful consideration. “We’ll need to prepare them thoroughly.”
“I’ll pray for your success,” Sister Josephine said, one hand overlapping the other on her desk. “And for discernment. These are treacherous times for all God’s children, but especially for those who walk between worlds as you do.”
I stood, my decision made. “If the Order or some new incarnation of it truly watches us, then let them see that our faith is not merely words. That we live our beliefs even among those who would fear us if they knew our nature.”
“Faith without works is dead,” Sister Josephine quoted softly. “But take care, child. The line between courage and pride is a difficult wire to walk.”
I touched my locket once more, feeling the weight of Bishop Harkins’ mandate within. “I know the difference,” I assured her, though doubt whispered in the corners of my mind. “Whatever the future holds, we need allies beyond these walls.”