10
shorn gray hair and pulled at the thick white collar at his neck. I
turned my head, pretending to focus on my task. No matter the
time or place, Father 2’Sullivan’s stern ga]e warned he could
sense the smallest sin even if you tried to hide it.
“Always nice to see a young lady learning to sew. In the con-
vent, Willa will be expected to do her own mending. Be self suɚ-
cient. It is not a life of relaxation but a dedication of every moment
to God. <ou should be very proud that she’s about to sacrifice her
life to the church.”
“We certainly are,” Da said in reverence.
“Willa knows the importance of her decision,” Mam added.
“How her purpose is for the greater good.”
I focused on the task in front of me, trying to picture my life in
the convent. The joy it would bring my parents. I’d always been a
good and faithful daughter. Found solace in the familiar prayers
and routine of Mass. It would be easy to settle into the life of a
nun, I reminded myself on a regular basis, especially since the
topic always brought a rare glimmer of light to my parents’ eyes.
Since graduating from school in June, I’d done everything in
my power to forget where my future was headed. To Mam and
Da, having a daughter in the convent brought them a sense of
pride and acknowledgment. They spoke as if submitting me to the
spiritual community was a gift to God they were all too willing
to make at my expense. The thought of being alone in that cold,
quiet building for the rest of my life chilled my bones quicker
than a sharp fall bree]e.
I stabbed the needle through the cloth over and over. Each
time I pulled the thread through the cloth, I lost the stitch. Halfway
through my third attempt to add the button, a deep, keening wail
