CHAPTER 18
Clare loved to walk. She was moving at a fast pace along Frantz Road and drinking in the brilliant sunshine of the early morning. It was Sunday and, as much as she was growing to love the community she was living with, she also enjoyed having some space from them. It appeared to her that such was the stuff of community life—a coming together and a going apart. Each time that cycle happened there was an individual and communal renewal—something like breathing.
Her arms moved up and down in wide arcs with each step. She was a silver blur with short blond hair. Two chocolate Labrador Retrievers barked and wagged their tails as she passed a familiar home.
Once in a while the battery on the collar of one or the other dog would die and the animal would be free to move beyond the electronic fence which kept them in their yard when there was no such power outage. When that would happen the dog, or dogs, always appeared on the monastery grounds a good half mile away. Maybe they thought it was a Franciscan monastery! The other Francis (of Assisi) was the one who loved the animals. The Francis of the Salesian Monastery (de Sales) was more focused on finding God in the ordinary and the universal call to holiness.
The two men in business suits called to her from behind after she passed them at an intersection. She appeared to ignore them. They tried again: “Miss, Miss. May we speak with you?”
Now they were annoyed. They walked up behind her at a fast pace and called again. Again she did not respond. Just as they were along side of the woman she jumped with a start and screamed. A lady wheeling in her large vinyl trash can looked up in fright.
“What’s going on over there? You leave her alone you hear? Go away now or I’ll call the cops.”
“We’re sorry but we are the cops.”
“Prove it.”
The two CIA agents took out their wallets with their identification as they walked toward the older woman. The two dogs a few doors away barked wildly. The woman’s husband came out of the house. “What’s all the ruckus about, Sophie?”
“These two are bothering Clare. They scared her half to death.”
“We didn’t mean to. We only want to speak with her,” the older of the two agents explained as he showed the husband, the wife, and Clare his badge.
The husband remembered. “Oh yeah, she’s the lady who’s living at the monastery these days. Maybe she’ll become a nun.”
“Listen gentlemen. If you want to speak to someone you go to the door, identify yourselves, and then do so. Don’t just appear on the road and expect people to take kindly to you. Did you know that Clare doesn’t hear too well?”
“No ma’am, we didn’t,” the younger one said sheepishly.
By now Clare had her wits about her again. She was following the conversation pretty well and began to speak for herself.
“What do you want with me?”
“We have some questions for you about Leone Striker,” continued the younger person.
She squinted towards his mouth. “Who?” He didn’t have facial hair, a feature which can make it difficult to lip read, but Clare couldn’t quite understand the name the agent was saying.
“Leone Striker,” repeated the older agent.
The married couple and Clare all seemed at a loss.
Older agent: “You mean to say that you don’t know her?”
“I’ve never heard of her. I can’t recall anyone in my life with either that first or last name.”
They didn’t believe her and it showed.
“Come on in for a cup of tea, honey. You guys get out of here and if we see you around again we will press charges. The very idea!”
The two CIA agents walked back to a dark maroon car parked on the side of the road as Clare and the older couple entered the house.
“They were at the monastery recently. I’m sure of it. I don’t know why and didn’t ask because it was none of my business.”
The man of the house spoke up. “Well now it is your business Clare. We’ve stopped in to join in the prayers of the community many times, feel like the extended family of the monastery, as many of the neighbors do around here. Ask the Abbot about the matter.”
“He’s away right now but I could speak with the Prioress, Sister Jane de Chantal.”
“Good idea,” added the mistress of the house. “She’s a good egg and I’m sure that she’ll tell you whatever she can.”
They drank their tea in silence for a few moments and munched on lemon poppy seed muffins. “Hope those two so-called cops don’t come back. I understand that poppy seed makes drug tests positive.” They all laughed at Sophie’s joke and began to feel more at ease.
This spontaneous tea party was the sort of thing that attracted Clare to the small and simple Salesian Monastery. There were many large monastic communities to choose from. Most of them were all male or all female and sometimes too large to keep people honest and growing. A small community of both men a women was much like a family, a family with good neighbors.
“Thanks to both of you. I’m sorry to have been a bother.”
“No such thing,” answered Joshua. I have much to be grateful for. Your Brother Francis has been a big help to me. You see, I was getting a little forgetful but panicked because I thought it might be Alzheimer’s disease. I made an appointment with your natural doc and he explained the difference between age-associated memory loss and Alzheimer’s. What a relief! Even though I have less neurons firing in my brain and it sometimes takes longer to recall things, I’m basically fine.”
“I wouldn’t go that far dear.”
“Now Sophie. Anyway, Brother Francis put me on a natural formula called ‘NeuroRelief” which I take twice daily when I eat my breakfast and supper. The bottle is right here on the table. Let’s see, it contains Carnitine, Glutamine, Ashwagandha, blueberry, Ginkgo Biloba, and lots of other good stuff. I guess they’re the things that help our brains work better. All I know is that what the monk called ‘tip of the tongue’ syndrome is happening much less frequently. You know, when you know something but it just won’t come to mind when you want it to.”
Brother Francis also suggested that I take up doing crossword puzzles or some number puzzles called “Sudoku.” At first I thought he meant Karaoke, you know, when you sing into a microphone and a machine plays music and projects the words for the singer to sing from. Anyway, I understand that Karaoke is from Japan and that Sudoku was created in America, but later became popular in Japan.”
“Enough already! He really is much better now Clare. Now he’s telling me to make an appointment!”
Everyone joined together in laughter.
Joshua spoke again. “Not to change the subject, but in part to demonstrate my good memory, I want to let you know that we are sorry for your loss. The Mass of the Resurrection for Brother Benedict was just beautiful.” In the midst of speaking it came to him. “Come to think of it, I believe that those two cops were at the funeral. That sound right to you Sophie?”
“You know Joshua, for once in your life I think you’re right.” She laughed good naturedly. “They were there, or it was two men much like them. They sat in the back and didn’t mix.”
“I’ll speak to Sister Jane. I’d like to keep this as low key as possible. I don’t want to get thrown out of the monastery before I even get in.”
“You mean you’re going to sign on the dotted line dear?” the woman asked.
“I’m leaning in that direction. Entering monastic life is a long process. It’s up to our Good God.”
The older man commented. “They strike me as a healthy lot, I mean in terms of head things. They are down to earth, humorous, and kind. You’d fit right in. Go for it.”
Clare give them each a little hug and continued on with her walk. She was a little shaken and somewhat confused.
“Yes Clare, how can I be of help?” asked the Prioress. They were sitting in the sun room. Clare was on an old wooden rocker that squeaked too much and the Prioress sat on an orange wing back chair that may have been older than Clare. Brother Benedict used to take the rocker apart now and then and re-glue it. Maybe Brother Matthew would carry on the tradition.
The retreatant explained the events of her morning walk. Sister Jane looked very concerned. She unnecessarily tucked her graying hair in at the sides of her blue veil.
“Yes Clare. Those men were here. They won’t harm you, and I wish that I could tell you the entire story. I’m going to ask you to trust us just a little bit longer. When Abbot Francis gets back I think the whole thing may be explained to the community. Can you be at peace with that for now?”
“I’ll certainly try to be, Sister. This is really the first unsettling thing that has happened to me here but something was bound to happen. Perhaps it will help me to shake off this honeymoon feeling I’ve had and allow me to take a closer look, and to make a more informed decision about entering the community.”
“Yes, God uses very ordinary events to speak to us, especially we who try to live the Salesian charism. How’s your vocation discernment going Clare, if I may ask?”
“Just fine Sister Jane, and of course you may ask. I’m grateful for your concern. I’m fairly certain that I will request to return, or simply stay on as an Observer.”
“You have the freedom of God’s daughter, Clare, but that does sound right to me. Abbot Francis gave me permission to accept you as an Observer for a month if you choose to take that step. Shall we talk again next week?”
“Yes Sister. I feel a little more like a real community member already.”
The fifty-something woman hugged the thirty-something woman. They parted quietly, each left to her own thoughts, and each desiring something of the solitude the monastic life calls one to, especially on a Sunday.