Grabbing the letter, she stuffed it in her pocket and ran down the steps, stopping briefly in the kitchen to tell Marta she was going out for a walk and would be back in time for her class at two o’clock. The gate creaked open and soon she was out in the street, walking fast past the taxi stand, down the main street of Juliaca, past the market. She was light and dizzy, and the sun shone like diamonds through the leaves of the eucalyptus trees.
Their love couldn’t be wrong. People couldn’t help it if they really loved each other, could they? She remembered old Father Finn, the chaplain in the novitiate who taught them moral theology. “Feelings are never wrong,” he would thunder. “We can’t help our feelings any more than we can help what color eyes we have. It’s what we do with our feelings that matters.” Well, what would she do with these feelings? Kate knew she loved Tom in every sense. She wanted him to hold her and kiss her, make love to her. Just thinking of it made her melt in a strange new heat of longing. But she forced these thoughts away. That they could not have. But she would not give up this love, not when she had just found what it was she’d been hungry for all this time. They would have to work out a way to love as a man and a woman without having sex.
She would write and tell him this. After all, he couldn’t just decide everything. “I will stay away from you,” he had said. Didn’t she have a say in all this? Now she felt angry that he dared to make decision unilaterally. He thought she was young and innocent, too naive to understand what was needed here. She’d write back tonight. But he loved her, that’s all that mattered. She softly chanted it as she hurried along the dusty road and while she climbed the steps of the square and returned to the convent.
That night, after the sisters had prayed Compline together in the living room, Kate sat for a while in front of the fire. One by one the others went up to bed. Kate assured Sister Josepha that she would dampen the fire and put the screen in place before she went to bed. The older nun stood looking down at her for several seconds. “Is everything all right, Sister? You look a little flushed tonight.”
Kate stared up at her for a moment and then felt a foolish smile spread across her face. “I’m fine, Sister. I just wanted to sit here for a few minutes and enjoy the last bit of the fire.” The older nun turned away, and Kate watched her walk stiffly out of the room. Josepha seemed tired tonight, elderly somehow. Had she ever loved a man? wondered Kate. She felt sorry now for anyone who hadn’t known this joy.
When she finally went upstairs to her room, she looked at her face for a long time in the small mirror over her night stand. The black veil outlined the white wimple that framed her face. Her eyebrows were dark, much darker than her light brown hair. Her eyes were luminous tonight, the blue so deep that it almost seemed black. Her usually pale face was flushed and her mouth curved in a small smile. She felt both pretty and cherished. Then she laughed at herself, remembering the novice mistress’ warnings against vanity. She hadn’t thought about her looks for a long time.
She sat at her small desk and read Tom’s letter once again. It sounded more desolate this time. What did he mean by saying he felt dry and stale? She began to realize she didn’t know him very well. But there would be time for that, she hoped. Time to sit together and talk about their lives. She wrote:
Dearest Tom,
Your letter today flooded me with happiness. I love you, too, as you must have guessed. I finally admitted it to myself after the night you sat with me in front of the fire. But I thought I would never get to say those words to you, much less read them from you to me. I thought I would have to bury this love deep within, and now it feels so wonderful to say it to you. I know you want to be a priest—it’s part of what I loved in you first. And I have wanted to be a nun for many years, ever since I was a little girl.
So here’s the question, and please don’t think I am too young to understand the problem. I’m twenty-five, and most women by now are married. Can a man and woman who are in love with each other keep that love on a non-sexual plane? It sounds like a risky exercise, I admit. Maybe I’m fooling myself or maybe women really are different from men in these things. But I want to love you, talk to you, enjoy being around you, and still keep my vow of celibacy and respect yours. Could this work?
Tom, you made me so happy today. Don’t take that gift away now by “staying away” from me. We’ll just have to find a new way of loving. We can’t undo what’s happened between us. I love you. When are you coming back?
Kate
She would mail the letter tomorrow after lunch; she’d have to pretend she needed to go downtown for something. She felt a twinge of guilt at the deception. Was this the beginning of leading a life of lies? Then she wondered at the boldness of her letter. Had she been too frank? The ground was shifting beneath
