CHAPTER 11
The next morning, after Office and meditation, the community washed up the breakfast dishes and replaced the cereal boxes in the cupboard under the sink. There was a distinct air of unease among them all.
“Maybe I’m getting old, but I felt a strange presence here last night. I don’t know quite how to explain it,” Sister Scholastica continued softly, “but it was as if another person was among us. I did not see anyone, however, only felt a presence.”
Brother Matthew tried to lighten the atmosphere. “You’re not getting old, Sister, you are old!” Sorry, I know you have a good sense of humor, albeit a subtle one, and I couldn’t resist.”
“She’s only middle-aged,” added Brother Benedict with his usually raspy voice. “Now if you’re talking old, I’m ‘Exhibit A’ don’t you think?”
“You’ve been old since you’ve been born, I think, Brother. It’s just your personality. Sister Scholastica, on the other hand, seems to be someone who is interested in figuring things out, trying new things. For her, age seems only to be a number. She seems forever young.”
Brother Matthew fell into a brief silence, hoping that his little burst of extraversion didn’t offend anyone. No one seemed so. Sometimes their communal deference for one another became a little strained and some honest sharing of viewpoints was helpful. Now was simply one of those times.
Anthony, still navigating his way through the verbal and non-verbal style of interaction among the members of the monastic community, gathered his courage and dove into the discussion.
“Sisters and Brothers, I sleep like a log so I was not aware of anything unusual going on last evening, but find the paranormal a fascinating topic. Did anyone else sense a presence, to put it in Sister Scholastica’s words, last evening?” His dark eyes blazed with curiosity.
Sister Jane de Chantal, probably the most reserved member of the little group, contributed to the conversation next. “I normally sleep well but I slept lightly last night. Something seemed to keep waking me up—not a sound or a presence—just a something that I can’t explain.”
“We are good detectives, especially when we work as a group. We can solve this mystery,” added Brother Benedict. “Of course our most risk-taking sleuth is in India at the moment but maybe we can call in his mystery-solving friends if necessary.”
Sister Scholastica mentally prayed for charity as she thought about the sometimes impulsive nature of Brother Benedict. Bless him, change me. That little prayer always helped her to laugh at life’s little annoyances and keep the little things little.
“If it comes to that I suppose we can, Brother. At the moment, however, our vague musings about a presence in our midst is probably not enough to bother a forensic psychologist and a detective about.”
“Humph,” was the older monk’s response.
“Looks like you are getting to see our human side, Anthony,” quipped Brother Matthew. “That’s what Observership is for. It will help you get to know us better, and we you.”
“You folks are all so nice. A little bit of sparring is normal, as I see things,” he responded. “One of the many things that attracted me to your community is your humanity. You are very practical and simple people. God is found in the ordinary, and even behind the scenes, in Salesian spirituality. Isn’t that right?”
“You are on the same page as the rest of us,” announced Brother Benedict. “It’s time to make him a Postulant!”
“Not so fast Brother,” Sister Jane de Chantal countered. “We need to wait for Anthony’s one-month Observership to be completed and for our Abbot to return to take a step like that.”
“I know that, Sister,” I was just kidding.
The group dispersed and the monastics went about the various tasks assigned them. Sister Jane de Chantal settled in at the big desk in the monastery community room. The top of the desk, while not in complete disarray, was cluttered with papers. The nun began straightening things out, putting things into orderly piles and filing away what was not needed at the moment.
During the course of the morning work period the Prioress became uneasy. Sister Jane de Chantal was in charge of the community while Abbot Francis was away.
All that talk after breakfast. My mind must be playing tricks on me. I can’t put my finger on it, but it feels like someone has been searching through this desk. There is just enough clutter on the desk and in the drawers to make it hard to discern, but some things appear to have been moved. Then again, maybe not.
Brother Matthew walked by with a mop in his long-boned fingers.
“Brother, would you have had reason to search through this desk recently?”
“Me, Sister? No, I never even go near it. I’m still the new kid on the block and try to mind my own business. That’s more than enough of a task for me. Why do you ask?”
“Oh it’s probably just the ‘presence’ people were talking about after breakfast, but it seems that someone has moved some of the contents of the desk.”
“It probably is just the aftermath of our breakfast conversation, Sister. How could one even notice changes in the contents of that big old desk? It has everything from bills to shipping envelopes for the books and tapes we peddle—I mean make available to others—in or on it.”
“I suppose you are right, Brother. Still….”
“Oh, oh, here we go again, another mystery! I love them, especially when I am not the main character,” the young monk said with a smile.
“Better not say anything to the others, Brother Matthew. I don’t want to create an atmosphere of paranoia in the community.”
“Of course, Sister, you are the Prioress, and I happily obey. If I can be of any help feel free to let me know. Otherwise, the kitchen floor awaits!” He walked off with his usual air of good-natured humor and generosity.