The convent was a big, sprawling building that had been a good investment when they bought it. It was behind the church on a large lot, with trees and a garden, and a maze of small rooms on the top floor for the nuns, with large rooms downstairs where classes were held. It was Mother Mary Margaret who had introduced all their after-school and evening activities for children, young people, and their parents, which had been a great success and integrated them into the neighborhood, rather than cloistering themselves and setting the nuns apart.
Alex got out of the car slowly, almost dragging her feet, and followed Bill up the stairs. As they walked in, they were jostled by a flock of children being picked up by their parents. They were carrying clay objects, drawings, and paintings from an art class given by several of the nuns. The children were shouting and excited, and the mothers talking and laughing, and inside, a group of teenage boys were leaving the large meeting room that doubled as a gym. It was where their new Pilates classes were being held, which were a big success, but that was later in the evening, preceded by an exercise class for pregnant women. They also had an evening class for first-time parents on how to care for their newborns, which was given by two of the nuns who were nurses. And they were planning to offer art classes for older people in the community too.
Bill hadn’t been to see the convent in several years, and was stunned by how many of the locals were congregating in the halls. Mother Mary Margaret had turned it into a booming community center, and Alex was looking around with awe as children ran by her, women chatted, and teenagers came and went. It wasn’t the dark, dreary, silent place she had expected, or anything like what she’d thought. Bill inquired at a reception desk, and a woman in jeans and a tee shirt, who was actually a nun, directed them to an office at the end of a long hall, past the gym. And when they walked in, a woman in jeans and a red sweatshirt was standing on top of a ladder changing a lightbulb in a ceiling fixture. She glanced down at both of them in dismay, saw Bill in his suit and tie, and Alex in her little black dress, and looked embarrassed. She had gray hair in a ponytail, and a pretty face that always reminded Bill of his wife’s. They were first cousins and the daughters of twin sisters.
“I guess I should have worn my habit. I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to change.” She smiled down at them, finished changing the lightbulb, clambered down the ladder, folded it, and leaned it against the wall. “We lost our handyman last month, and I’ve been sitting here in the dark for three days.” She kissed Bill on the cheek and held a hand out to shake Alex’s, who stared up at her in surprise. She was a tall, robust-looking woman, and the sweatshirt said Stanford, where she had gone to college more than thirty years before. “I’m Mother Mary Margaret,” she introduced herself to Alex. “You can call me Mother MaryMeg. I’m glad you came to visit. It’s pretty crazy here every day. We give lots of classes and seminars for people in the neighborhood, mostly at night since we all work.”
She indicated two threadbare chairs for them and sat down at her desk. Alex found it hard to believe that she was a nun. She seemed more like a schoolteacher, or a principal, or someone’s mother. “We’ve never had someone come to live with us, and we’re not really set up for it,” she said to both of them honestly, “but it could work, as long as you don’t mind living in a busy place, and are willing to pitch in with us. We all take a turn in the kitchen every month. The sisters pray a lot when it’s my turn. I’m better with a hammer and a power drill than at the stove.” Bill knew she had many other skills and had majored in psychology in college, had a master’s in theology, and had been studying toward a doctorate in psychology while working as a nurse practitioner. “How do you feel about staying here, Alex?” she asked her very directly.
“I don’t know. It looks a lot different than I thought,” she said in a soft, hesitant voice.
“I’m sorry about your father. I know this is a big change for you. Bill tells me you don’t want to go to boarding school. Why not? That might be more fun with kids your age.”
“I don’t do a lot of after-school activities,” she said cautiously. “I read a lot, and I like to write. My father and I did a lot of things together. I think I’d feel trapped living at school, and be forced into a lot of things I don’t like to do. I’ve been with grown-ups, or my dad, all my life. My mom…left…when I was seven, and she died when I was nine. It’s been just me and my dad all my life.” Her eyes filled with tears as she said it, but she struggled not to cry, as the mother superior nodded.
“What do you like to write?” she asked gently, assuming short stories or poetry.
“Crime stories,” Alex said with a small smile. “My teachers think they’re weird, so I don’t write them for school anymore. My dad thought they were pretty good.”
“Maybe you’ll be a writer one day,” Mother MaryMeg said in a warm tone. “You’d have to be fairly independent here. The nuns can’t chase you around if you’re not home on time, or don’t tell us where you are. We’d have to be able to rely on you to go to school, keep up with your work, and follow our rules about the house. That’s a lot to expect of you at your age, but it won’t work otherwise. How do you feel about it?” She looked Alex in the eye and spoke to her as an adult, as though she were a young nun coming to live there, not a fourteen-year-old girl, a freshman in high school, about to turn fifteen.
“I think I could do it,” Alex said in barely more than a whisper. Bill Buchanan had made it clear to the mother superior that Alex had been provided for by her father, and would be no financial burden on them. The estate could even pay the convent an amount for her monthly room and board, which Mother MaryMeg had already said could be given in the form of a small contribution to the convent. “How much can she eat, after all?” she had said in a lighthearted spirit. This was not about money. It was about taking responsibility for her, and her willingness to cooperate with them. But looking at Alex and talking to her, the older nun was confident about it. She looked like a good girl, and seemed mature for her age. And her father had had no problems with her that Bill knew of. She was an excellent student, sensible, and well behaved, and the nuns taking her in would be a godsend for her if they would do it.
“What if we give it a try?” Mother MaryMeg suggested after a few minutes. Alex had impressed her very favorably, just as Bill had said she would. “Let’s see how it works out. Would you like to have dinner with us tonight? I could introduce you to the others.” If she came to live with them, she would have twenty-six surrogate mothers, after having none at all for the past seven years. It was going to be a big change for her, and living in community was always an adjustment for everyone, the nuns too. Some nuns lived on their own or in small groups in apartments now. Big bustling convents like St. Dominic’s were rare in the modern church. It was an atmosphere that the nuns there loved, especially with Mother Mary Margaret running it.