thought that, along with vows of celibacy, poverty, and whatever other personal states that ended with a y she held, smiling was anathema. The kindnesses she’d shown him, along with the spiritual conversations that never shied from the intellectual, did much to cause him to consider his faith beyond those formative years.
“I wasn’t daydreaming,” he said. “Just mulling over a few things.”
The nun’s smile lifted to a smirk, which was another facial expression he knew well. It was the mark of the skeptic, and the fact that the sister used it often had convinced CJ that her faith was hard-won, and that as a boy he could ride those coattails of fealty.
“How are you, CJ ?” the sister asked.
“Just fine, Sister. I mean, all things considered.”
CJ hadn’t seen her at the church, but he’d been preoccupied enough that the failing was certainly his.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and it didn’t sound as phony as it might have had it come from someone else.
“Thanks,” he said, and he was sure that unlike her sentiment, his sounded phony.
“I really liked your grandfather.”
“So did I.” Almost as an afterthought he asked, “How did you know him?”
She smiled. “Pancakes and bingo.”
Those few words drew a laugh from CJ —one unlike any he’d uttered in what seemed a long time. “He loved both,” he said.
The nun joined him in his laughter. She put a hand on his arm. “Your grandfather might have been the last of the good ones.”
When CJ was eleven, working his way through the Stations of the Cross, he’d had a conversation with the sister that, to the best of his recollection, dealt with the fact that there was a dearth of saints in the present age. That was what he was reminded of now, although he was confident Sal had been no saint.
“I won’t argue with you,” he said.
She released his arm and gave him an affected arch eyebrow. “Then at least you learned something under my tutelage.”
“If by tutelage you mean questioning everything that came down as official doctrine, then yes, I did learn a thing or two.”
Sr. Jean Marie didn’t have a ready answer for that beyond the smile she’d already wielded with great effect.
“If you ever want to talk, you know where I am,” she said.
And with that, she was gone, leaving CJ feeling both better and worse than he had before she’d arrived. He found that he appreciated the dichotomous feeling, even as he knew that he wouldn’t take the nun up on her offer.
On the heels of this thought, CJ’s stomach made a loud rumbling noise, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. There was a buffet that spread over two long tables, covered with more food than CJ could remember seeing in any one place that wasn’t a supermarket. He found a plate and began to load it, paying particular attention to anything that looked as if it would do a number on his cholesterol, reasoning that if one couldn’t forsake the rules of good nutrition in the name of solace, then when could one?
He’d just reached the dessert section when he heard a chuckle over his shoulder.
“Don’t they have food in Tennessee?” Julie asked.
CJ looked down at his plate and felt guilty for the briefest of moments before deciding not to be. He hadn’t had a beef on weck in a very long time, and he knew where the chicken wings were from and that they’d be better than anything he could get in the South.
“The South has a different culinary sensibility,” he explained. “I have to load up on Yankee food while I’m here.”
“Well, remember to pace yourself at least,” she said. “Or you’ll have to stop at every rest area between here and Nashville.”
He laughed but decided to forgo dessert. He’d recently made the move up to size thirty-six pants and harbored the hope that it was a temporary situation.
“Something I said?” Julie asked innocently as he turned away from the table.
“Will it make you feel like you’ve accomplished something if I say yes?”
“Help a girl out,” she laughed.
CJ balanced the paper plate on one hand and started to eat, the smell of the food overcoming his inclination to wait until he was done with this conversation. Not surprisingly, he found Julie to be one of the few people he’d enjoyed talking with so far, excepting Uncle Edward. Edward used to tell all of the kids war stories years ago, and CJ had loved hearing them. In the brief