CHAPTER 22
Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Brodheadsville things were becoming more and more unsettled. Nothing overt was really happening but the little monastic community was restless. Everyone seemed preoccupied.
“We are probably not giving our Observer a very good impression of monastic life,” mentioned Sister Jane de Chantal to Sister Scholastica one day on a walk through the fall foliage.
“Perhaps so, Sister, but Anthony strikes me as a person who has been through a lot in life already. I think he probably has a pretty realistic view of life and human beings. Sometimes he seems so mature, realistic, and open to life. Other times, however, I’m not so sure.” The nun lapsed into a silent reverie.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s hard to put your finger on it, you know? Anthony is fun to talk with and has many interesting stories and adventures to share but sometimes what he talks about is not quite believable. Individual stories are okay, but when you add them all up, they just don’t ring true. Yet, he is a likeable person.”
Scholastica continued: “Just last week he was asking about Brother Francis and his present trip to India. Anthony said that he was in India once. Given all his other stories, I find it hard to believe. One person just can’t do all that he has done or be related to the people he says that he is related to.”
“I didn’t want to say anything, Sister Scholastica, lest I color other people’s perceptions of Anthony, but I must admit to some misgivings about our Observer myself. Like you, I just can’t pin it down.”
A small red car zoomed by, swirling a rainbow of leaves in its wake. The car stopped, backup lights glowed, and the driver backed up.
“Hello Sisters, can I give you a lift?”
The nuns both smiled broadly, the first real smile in many days. “Doctor Fleur, it is so wonderful to see you,” said Sister Scholastica.
“Yes it is,” added Sister Jane de Chantal. “We are both named after the same saint and need to see more of one another.”
“Please girls, call me Chantal. I’ve asked you to do that before but then your customs might dictate otherwise.”
“Names are so secondary. It’s the heart that matters,” responded Sister Scholastica with a smile.
“I’m on my way to the monastery. Just wanted to say hello.”
“We’ll hop in the car before we get hit by one and make some green tea, how’s that?” offered Sister Jane de Chantal.
“Deal.”
The card briefly zigzagged along two country roads. They drove up the driveway to the monastery. The asphalt was covered with damp multi-covered leaves.
Chantal, in this monastic atmosphere, thought of the biblical story of the coat of many colors that Joseph of the Bible was given. His brothers became so jealous of that beautiful coat and what they thought it symbolized that it nearly cost Joseph his life. What richness our emotions can add to our lives when dealt with properly. What pain they produce when they go awry.
The three women exited the car after it came to a lurching stop. Chantal was nearly as quick behind the wheel as she was of mind.
“Anthony made some blueberry scones yesterday,” Sister Scholastica chattered excitedly. “Shall we have them as part of our collation?”
“I love it!” responded Chantal. You folks have a special name for just about everything in life. By “collation” I suppose you mean a snack.”
“Right you are Doctor F.”
The mood of the two nuns was lifting rapidly. It was nice to be with an old friend of the community and distracted from recent and vague uneasy feelings.
“Who is this Anthony of the scones, may I ask? questioned Chantal. “Sounds like there may be a new member of the community among you. Then again, he could be here on retreat for a while.”
“He’s not officially a member of the community. Anthony is here for his one month Observership. Abbot Francis is still in India, as you know. So we are left to observe one another, as it were.”
“What’s the next step?”
“If his Observership goes well, the community may invite him to return at a later date as a Postulant, or one formally seeking entrance into the monastery to eventually become a monk, in this case.”
The Mister Coffee machine gurgled the last of its water through the green tea leaves. Chantal, comfortable in this setting, filled three battered mugs with steaming emerald green tea and placed them on the wooden refectory table nearby. The Sisters materialized a large basket full of inviting blueberry scones which were wrapped in a yellow napkin. Several types of jelly, made by the Carmelite nuns, also appeared.
“Brother Francis usually uses almond butter. May we get you some Doctor Fleur?” asked Sister Jane de Chantal.
“No thank you, I…” Her voice trailed off and she held a scone in mid-air near her mouth.
“What is it Chantal?” asked a worried Sister Scholastica. Chantal was staring at something so the two nuns turned in the direction of her gaze.
“Hello Anthony. We were just enjoying some of your wonderful scones,” said Sister Jane de Chantal, trying to sound natural and make sense out of Chantal’s odd reaction to Anthony’s entrance into the room.
“Don’t let me interrupt you. I was just on my way out for a walk.” Anthony hurried through the room and out the front door without even allowing time for the Sisters to introduce him to their visitor.
“Is everything alright dear?” questioned Sister Jane de Chantal.
“Oh yes, yes. I suppose I’m just missing my old grad school friend and fellow sleuth, Brother Francis.”
“We all are. He will be back in a few days. We have some community decisions to make. One has to do with Anthony,” said the Prioress Sister Jane de Chantal.
Chantal remained preoccupied throughout the rest of the visit. It had started off so light-heartedly and now the forensic psychologist suddenly seemed to catch the same emotional virus the community had been dealing with recently.
All three women tried, but the earlier freedom of their little gathering could not be re-captured. Eventually Chantal thanked the nuns for their hospitality and promised them that she would be in touch. She mentioned something about having to sort out a few things.
The three parted in friendship but uneasily and disappointed.