80

On Friday afternoon, Monica and Ryan drove to Metuchen to give testimony in the cause of the beatification of Sister Catherine Mary Kurner. Monica had taken the day off and had hoped to simply have a quiet morning before Ryan picked her up.

But when Tony Garcia learned from Nan that Monica would not be in the office, he rushed to her apartment. Still in her robe, she answered the door.

“I won’t come in, Dr. Monica,” Tony said, “but I couldn’t wait another second to get this file to you. In fact, Rosie thought that I should bring it up to you at one o’clock this morning, if you can believe it.”

“Nothing can be that urgent.” Monica smiled, as she took the file from him.

“Dr. Monica, believe you me, it is urgent,” Tony said, simply. “You’ll understand when you read it.” With a quick smile, he was gone.

Puzzled, Monica sat down at the table, poured a cup of coffee, and opened the file. She could see that it was composed mostly of letters, and a quick glance told her that the early ones had been written in the 1930s.

Puzzled by why Tony had felt it was so important for her to read the file right away, she decided to start with the earliest letter. Then she saw the name on the letterhead: Alexander Gannon. The date was March 2, 1934.

My darling Catherine,

How can I possibly find the words to beg your forgiveness? There are none. The thought that you were leaving in the morning to enter the convent, the knowledge that all hope that you would change your mind had ended overwhelmed me with my need for you. I am so ashamed. That night I could not sleep knowing that I was losing you. Finally I got up and walked from the house to the cottage. I knew that the door was never locked and that Regina and Olivia would be asleep upstairs. I had no intention of coming in. I swear it. Then I simply wanted to be near you one more time and so I came into your room. You in your sweet innocence were sleeping. Oh, Catherine, forgive me. Forgive me. There will never be anyone in my life except you. Examining my conscience and my soul, I believe that it was my hope that if you were to become with child, you would be forced to marry me. Oh, Catherine, I beg your forgiveness. If that were to happen, I implore you to become my wife.

Alex

The next letter was from the Mother Superior of Catherine’s convent.

Dear Regina,

I am returning the letter Alexander Gannon gave you to send to Catherine. She does not wish to read it, but I did tell her it contained his profound apology. Please instruct him never again to contact Catherine.

Eight months later there was another letter from the Mother Superior.

Dear Regina,

This morning, in Dublin, at five A.M., your cousin Catherine gave birth to her son. The baby was immediately registered in the name of my nephew and his wife, Matthew and Anne Farrell. They have already sailed from Ireland with the infant. It took great courage for Catherine to give up her baby, but she has steadfastly maintained that she must follow the calling that she has always known was hers. She does not want Alexander Gannon to ever learn about the child because she fears he would want to raise him on his own. It was a difficult and long labor and it became necessary for the doctor to perform caesarean surgery. When she recovers her health, Catherine will return to the novitiate in Connecticut and resume her role as a postulant.

Sister Catherine is my grandmother, Monica thought, stunned. Alexander Gannon is my grandfather. For the next two hours, she read and reread the letters. Most of them were from Catherine to Olivia’s mother, Regina. Some of them referred to her child.

… Regina, there are times when my arms ache for the baby I gave up. And yet when I reach into a crib and pick up an abandoned little one, a child damaged in body or mind, I fill that need. Mother Superior placed my baby with a fine family. I know that. I can’t know any more than that. He belongs to the people who are now his parents and I am living the life that God intended for me.

… I tell my young sisters that they must realize that when they enter the convent they do not surrender their human emotions, which I suspect countless people believe is the case. I tell them there will be times when they see the joy of a mother with a child that they may wish with all their hearts that they could know that joy. I tell them that there are times of loneliness when they may see a husband and wife, obviously content in their marriage, and know that they might have chosen that life. And then I remind them that there is no joy so deep as that of surrendering all human emotions to the God who granted them to us…

All of Catherine’s letters were similar. Her eyes glistening with tears, Monica realized the struggles of the nun who had been her grandmother to open yet another hospital, to beg funds for urgently needed medical equipment.

Dear Regina,

Polio is rampant. It breaks the heart to see little ones in iron lungs, unable to breathe on their own, their limbs wasted.

It was the call from Ryan that startled Monica into awareness of the time. “I’ll be about ten minutes late, love, there’s a lot of traffic,” he said.

It was eleven fifteen. They were due to be in Metuchen at one o’clock to testify at the beatification hearing. Monica rushed to shower and dress but took the time to scan the letter from Alex Gannon to Catherine and the letter from the Mother Superior to Regina Morrow so she could keep electronic copies.

When Ryan called again to say that he was waiting outside in the car, she said, “Ryan, let me drive. There’s something I want you to read.”

Monsignors Kelly and Fell and Laura Shearing were waiting for them when they arrived, barely on time. Monica introduced them to Ryan, then said, “I have something very important to show you, but if you don’t mind I’d prefer to do it after we give our testimony.”

“Of course,” Monsignor Kelly said.

His voice firm and sure, under sacred oath, with quiet intensity Ryan testified that as a neurosurgeon he could find no medical explanation for Michael O’Keefe’s cancerous brain tumor to have disappeared. “Nor will anyone else find an explanation,” he said. “I only wish that there were more miracles granted to the agonized parents who are losing their children to cancer.”

When Monica testified, she said, “I cannot understand why I was so resistant to the idea that the power of prayer was the cause of Michael’s return to health. I was a witness to the absolute act of faith of his mother when I told her he was terminally ill. It was arrogant of me to be so dismissive of her faith, especially since the proof of it is her eight-year-old healthy little boy.”

It was only after she had completed answering their questions and Monsignor Kelly had thanked them for coming, that Monica laid the file marked CATHERINE on his desk. “I think I would prefer that you read this after I leave,” she said. “Then, if you wish, we can talk again. But if it is determined that Sister Catherine is proposed for beatification, I would like to be invited to the ceremony.”

“Of course.” Monsignor Kelly stood up. “Dr. Jenner, perhaps you’d like to see a picture of Sister Catherine.”

“Yes, I would.”

“Dr. Farrell, I don’t think you saw this picture when you were here. It was taken when she was quite young, in her early thirties, I believe.” Monsignor Kelly reached into his desk and took out the photograph of a nun in traditional habit, smiling as she held two babies in her arms.

Ryan looked from the picture to Monica. “Sister Catherine was a beautiful woman,” he said, as he handed it back.

He and Monica did not speak until they were in the car. “After they read the file, they’ll take that picture out and look at it again,” he said. “Your resemblance to her is unmistakable, especially the smile.”

Before he turned on the ignition, he said, “Alexander Gannon loved Catherine so much that he never looked at another woman. I understand how he felt. That is how much I love you.

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