Page 32 of Property of Quake

“Many times.”

That’s not the answer I was expecting. I always assumed women like Sister Beatrice simply knew. She’s never seemed uncertain about anything, and neither have other nuns I’ve met over the years who’ve spent decades in service to God.

“I thought…” I swallow, not knowing what to say.

“You thought the stork dropped me on the convent steps?” she teases.

A laugh escapes me. “Something like that.”

She folds her hands in her lap. “Those who never question rarely understand the significance of what they’re choosing.”

“So questioning is normal?” I ask, frowning.

“Not only is it normal,” she begins. “It’s healthy and important.”

Her answer is so simple, yet incredibly complicated, and creates more questions than it resolves. Sister Beatrice studies me for a moment, but thankfully, she speaks before I start to squirm under her scrutiny.

“When was the last time you spent an hour in quiet reflection?” When I don’t respond, her brows lift. “Exactly.”

“I’ve been busy,” I say defensively.

“The work won’t disappear just because you set it down for a while,” she reprimands gently.

Her words strike a chord in me because, once again, she’s right. The fundraiser is important, as are the children, but they will be there even if I step away for an hour. I’ve been throwing myself into work lately, and it’s been for all the wrong reasons.

If I’m busy enough, then I don’t have time to think about why Quake seems permanently lodged in my brain.

“I’d like you to spend some time in the chapel this afternoon,” Sister Beatrice says as she stands. “I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.”

“You want me to pray?”

“I want you to reflect.”

I nod. “Okay.

She moves to the door but pauses. “One more thing.”

“Yes?” I ask cautiously, noting the thoughtfulness in her expression.

“You’ve only taken your temporary vows.”

Her words catch me off guard. “I know.”

“Discernment isn’t done just because you’ve made progress.” I stare at her, and she continues to hold my gaze. “You’re allowed to ask difficult questions. Not only of yourself, but of those around you, of God.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, child, sometimes one becomes so determined to fulfill a promise that they forget to make sure it’s truly theirs.” She huffs out a sad breath. “Ryan would not be disappointed in you, Whitney. As long as you are true to yourself, he, along with everyone else here, will remain proud of the person you’ve become.”

With that, she disappears into the hallway, leaving me stunned and confused. The entire conversation feels intentional, like she was trying to tell me something without actually saying the words.

But what? And why?

Sister Beatrice has dedicated her life to the Church. Why would she say anything to encourage me to consider another path? The question still lingers when I enter the chapel hours later.

Sunlight filters through the stained glass windows, spilling beautiful shades of blue, red, and gold across the floor. For years, being here has calmed me, but lately…

Lately, the chapel feels more and more like it did when I was a child. There’s a weight in the air, a cloud of uncertainty. And today, my doubt is louder than the temporary vows I took.