and led CJ and Thor inside, into a good-sized room with two small couches, four chairs, a couple of oil paintings, and a large potted plant that CJ couldn’t immediately judge as to whether fake or real.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you the full tour,” she said. “Really, you’re not supposed to go any farther than the front room, but the kitchen’s a nicer place for a chat.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “But I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” CJ said. “And you’ve won Thor over, so I’m pretty sure he won’t rat you out.”
As Sister Jean Marie led him out of the front room and down the hallway, CJ decided that while he didn’t know what a convent was supposed to look like—to feel like—this wasn’t it. If anything, it seemed more like a standard home than did Father Tom’s rectory. There was also something like the feel of college dorm, without the loud music and pizza boxes.
“How many rooms are in this place?”
“Twelve bedrooms,” the sister answered. “But only five of them are occupied.”
CJ couldn’t tell if that was resignation he heard in her voice, but he decided to let it go.
The kitchen was enormous. It was done in a pastel green that evoked a country charm, dominated by a large island that CJ could imagine several nuns working around during meal preparation. Right now the kitchen was empty save for the abbess and her visitors. She moved a teakettle onto a burner and then pulled two cups from a cupboard before motioning CJ to an adjoining breakfast nook and the small table that sat by a bay window. CJ let Thor off the leash, and after a quick circle around the immediate area, nose to the floor, the dog curled up beneath the table.
“Thor?” Jean Marie asked as she sat opposite him.
“Short for Thoreau.”
She waited a beat before responding. “Of course it is,” she eventually said.
Before he could ask what that meant, she smiled and said, “So what do you think of Adelia after being away so long?”
He took a moment to answer because, while he’d considered the question some since he’d been back, he hadn’t pressed himself for a response succinct enough to fit into a real conversation. After a while he said, “I think the parts that have changed are dwarfed by what’s stayed the same.”
She nodded, and CJ saw a hint of a smile touch her lips.
“An accurate answer without a value judgment,” she said. “You know, that’s a skill.”
“That’s kind of my thing,” he said with a grin.
The low whistle of the teakettle came to them from the stove, and the sister rose and crossed to it, followed by Thor. As she poured the water into the cups she said, “I was surprised to hear you’d decided to stay.”
“It’s very temporary—just until I can work a few things out.”
“Rumor has it that you and your wife have called it quits.”
“Calling. Not quite called,” CJ corrected.
“Oh, so there’s hope still?” She’d returned to the table with a serving tray carrying two cups, spoons, cream, and sugar.
“Don’t know,” CJ said, “but it’s not looking good.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jean Marie said. “Janet, right?”
He nodded.
“Most of your books are dedicated to her,” she said in response to his unasked question. “All but the last one.”
“I realized I’d never dedicated a book to my dog,” he said with a shrug. He reached for a spoon and emptied three spoonfuls of sugar into his cup.
“How’s that arm of yours?” she asked. “Still have that slider?”
That drew a laugh. He hadn’t thrown a ball in a very long time, not to mention one that’s notorious for ruining many a good pitcher. He’d wondered a time or two if his preference for and skill with the slider spoke of some unknown desire to exit the game as quickly as he could—torque the arm to the point where no major league team would take a chance on him.
“I take it that’s a no?”
“Sister, I’d throw one pitch and wind up in the hospital.”
They drank their tea for a while in silence, until they began to hear dog snores floating up from beneath the table. Even then, they let that be their background music.
“Adelia’s an odd Walden,” the abbess said, which pulled a smile out of CJ.
“What makes you think this qualifies? I hardly think this place signifies disengagement.”
Jean Marie took a sip of tea, considering the question. After a time she said, “I