“Long,” Hattie answered, and they both laughed. “I would never have made it in a silent order.”
“Neither would I,” Mother Elizabeth admitted, “but it does one good from time to time.” Hattie was just glad it was over. “Why don’t you come and see me in the morning and we’ll talk about it.” She wanted to know how Hattie was feeling now, and what she was thinking. Speaking up about the rape had been a painful revelation. “I’ll expect you at seven-thirty, after breakfast.” Hattie agreed and went to help herself to dinner, and the other nuns had joined them when she came back with her tray and sat down. She already knew what she was going to tell the superior in the morning. She had made the decision at the retreat house in Vermont.
She dreamt of it that night, woke at four a.m., dressed for Mass, and went to the chapel early so she could pray about it.
She ate half a bowl of oatmeal after Mass, and hurried to the superior’s office. Mother Elizabeth was already at her desk, when Hattie knelt and kissed her ring.
“Good morning, Sister Mary Joe.” She was in her nursing habit, ready for work, as Mother Elizabeth peered over her glasses at her. “You may sit down.” Hattie slid into a chair facing her across the desk, like a schoolgirl. “It’s nice to have you back. Is there something you want to tell me?” Hattie nodded, cowed by her for a minute, and quickly told herself she was doing the right thing.
“I prayed about it a lot while I was in Vermont. I want to leave, Mother.”
“Under what circumstances, and to where?”
“I want to be released from my vows and go back to Africa.” The superior had expected it and wasn’t surprised. The relief on the younger nun’s face had suggested to her that she was going to ask to be released from her vows.
“What makes you think that’s the right answer?” she challenged her.
“I feel better since I made the decision.”
Mother Elizabeth nodded, unconvinced. She had heard it all before from others, and in her opinion, leaving the convent was never the right answer. She had thought of it once when she was younger herself, after a disagreement with her own mother superior.
“You don’t have to give up your vows to go to Africa. We can send you there again if you want. Giving up one’s vows is not about geography, or changing jobs. It’s about no longer believing in the principles you promised to uphold. Are you upset with either poverty, chastity, or obedience?” she asked her pointedly, and Hattie shook her head.
“No, Mother, I’m not. I think something happened to my faith in the Church after what I discovered at Saint Blaise’s. Their adoption mill was a scheme to make money for the Church.”
“And to find good homes for abandoned babies born out of wedlock. What’s so wrong about that?”
“They treated it like a business.”
“There may have been some unfortunate actions by the Sisters who ran it, but the motives were right. And to be crass about it, those infants were better off in rich homes than poor ones.”
“True. But poor people should have been able to adopt them too, not just rich ones.”
“Do you know for a fact they weren’t?”
“No, I don’t,” Hattie admitted. “The whole thing seems like such a mess, and burning the records was unforgivable.”
“That was wrong, I’ll grant you. But none of it is adequate reason for you to break your vows.”
“I came here for the wrong reasons, Mother. We both know that now. I lied about my vocation.”
“And can you truly say you haven’t had a vocation in eighteen years? I doubt that, I’ve seen you work. I know your heart. You’re a good nun, Sister.”
“Thank you,” Hattie said humbly.
“I have a suggestion for you. Take a year’s leave, on a sabbatical, and go to Africa. We’ll put you in one of our missions there, or a hospital. See in a year if you still want to be released from your vows. If you’re sure of it then, I won’t oppose it.”
“And will you oppose it now?” Hattie looked worried.
“No. But I won’t help you. I don’t think you’re doing the right thing. You need to take more time to decide. That’s a very important decision.”
“I know it is. I’ve been thinking about it for months.”
“I think that ex-nun you talked to in Ireland influenced you, and demoralized you.”
“I don’t agree.” But a small part of Hattie thought the superior might be right. Fiona Eckles had been so angry at the Church, and had predicted that in the end it would make Hattie want to break her vows too. Maybe she was right. But for Hattie, the decision was spawned by many things, not just the Church making money from an adoption mill.
“I’d like you to give my suggestion some thought. A year’s sabbatical before you make a final decision, and then we’ll talk. And you can spend the year in Africa, doing the work you love. You can pick the location.”
“I’d like to go back to Kenya, if you agree.”
“It’s not up to me,” Mother Elizabeth reminded her. “The bishop approves the postings.”
“I’ll think about it,” Hattie said, disappointed. She didn’t want to be put off. She wanted to make a decision. And she knew she didn’t have to be a nun to go to Africa. She had researched it, and there were other organizations that had hospitals and programs there. She could sign up for one, she was a registered nurse. It was easier for her with the Church of course. But she was sure that other humanitarian organizations would accept her.
“Take your time with the decision, Sister. It’s important. You’ve invested eighteen years of your life here. Don’t just throw that away. Get the demons out of your head, and their voices.” She was making a strong case for Hattie remaining a nun, and even though she felt guilty leaving, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to stay. “You’ve been on a roller-coaster ride for the past few months, finding your sister’s daughter, the sexual harassment accusations, and your rape surfacing. That was the catalyst that brought you in here, seeking safety. It’s not what made you stay.”
“I don’t know what made me stay,” she said, looking miserable again. “I’ve never wanted children, now I even wonder about that. I’m probably too old. But I suddenly realize that I’ve spent nearly twenty years as a nun and now I’m not sure I should ever have been one. It’s an unnatural life. And the people who make the decisions far above us in the Church are just humans like us. What if their decisions are wrong? I think I want to be an ordinary person, not a nun, but just a nurse.”