Nineteen
THE YOUNG NUN SHOWS me into the small room. It’s simply appointed, a couple of pictures of saints and the current pope on the wall, a statue of Our Lady in the corner. Two armchairs are in the center of the room, across from each other. The convent is semi-cloistered, so they allow visitors on a limited basis. I will not have to speak to the Mother Superior through a grill, but in this room set aside for the reception of visitors.
“Have a seat, Father,” she says. “I’ll go fetch Mother Evangeline.”
I sit in one chair and look around for a few minutes. After only a short time, the door opens and the young nun returns, this time accompanied by an older nun clad in the traditional habit. She’s physically imposing, about my height. I can tell nothing about her hair color, covered as
