physical demands of religious life. The doctor’s prognosis for her life span eventually proved inaccurate. But for Eileen, the die had been cast. She had been brought up to be a nun, not a wife and mother. Her virginity appeared to her and her family to be a gift from God. And so she embraced it. This much should be said for Eileen: Her celibacy was a much more fulfilling and positive experience than Oona’s.
Of all the sisters, the one most likely to break the cycle of spinster-dom was Maureen. The baby of the family, guarded and guided by two doting older sisters, Maureen enjoyed a relatively carefree childhood. For an Irish Catholic girl attending parochial school, she dated extensively and often. Unabashed, she confided in her sisters, and, through her, the sisters lived a vicarious storybook adolescence. Except that for Oona and Eileen it was fiction.
Maureen hid no dating detail from her sisters’ eager ears. There was nothing much to hide. While her dates included dancing, roller skating, ice skating, swimming parties, and a good deal of necking, she never went “all the way.” So her Catholic conscience did not much trouble her. But for her, unlike her sisters, her social and romantic life was an embarrassment of riches. There were so many boyfriends, some more serious than others, that Maureen never seemed able to settle down and select the one who would be a life’s companion. And so it went until her prospect of marriage thickened and finally congealed. The two little girls became her life.
As time went by, Mary Lou seemed to grow closer to Maureen. She certainly was more dependent. It was likely she never lost the deep fear that she might be returned to the orphanage. That might explain why she virtually became Maureen’s shadow. Occasionally, friends would observe that Mary Lou was becoming a clone of the sisters. As an adult, she flitted from one job—usually clerical—to another. The problem had nothing to do with incompetence. It was more a case of thin self-confidence.
As more time went by, Mary Lou came to alternate employment with learning experiences. The testimonials to her accomplishments piled up. On the walls of her room were certificates of graduation from schools of cosmetology, financial management, floral design, and the like. It was difficult for Mary Lou to grow close to Brenda because …
Brenda was the antithesis of Mary Lou. Brenda was filled with quiet self-confidence. Life was marked with goals and achievement of goals. Thus it surprised many when she took a job with the chancery of the archdiocese of Detroit. A secretarial position, even at the top, in the chancery’s Department of Finance and Administration paid only a fraction of what she could have earned in a secular office. The only logical conclusion was that it had to be a stepping-stone to something else—though what that something else might be certainly was a mystery.
That made up the dramatis personae of Oona’s birthday party.
Father Koesler pulled into a parking space near Eileen’s property. As he approached her gate, somewhere inside a dog was barking furiously.
Three other cars were parked nearby. Given the likelihood that all were here for Oona’s party, they were still one guest shy. Eileen’s car would be in the single garage. That left two sisters, two “nieces,” and him. Five. But there were only four cars in the lot. Since he was just two minutes early, someone was going to be late. As he had not memorized who drove what, he had no clue as to who was tardy.
With some trepidation, he eased open the gate. No dog in view. Thank God. But the barking grew more frantic. It must be Eileen’s latest mastiff. As long as the beast was confined to the basement, Koesler could be unconcerned if not downright fearless.
He tried the doorknob. Locked. How like Eileen. If the gate was unlocked, the door certainly would be locked. Come to think of it, she would be happier with both locked.
He knocked
Of all the sisters, the one most likely to break the cycle of spinster-dom was Maureen. The baby of the family, guarded and guided by two doting older sisters, Maureen enjoyed a relatively carefree childhood. For an Irish Catholic girl attending parochial school, she dated extensively and often. Unabashed, she confided in her sisters, and, through her, the sisters lived a vicarious storybook adolescence. Except that for Oona and Eileen it was fiction.
Maureen hid no dating detail from her sisters’ eager ears. There was nothing much to hide. While her dates included dancing, roller skating, ice skating, swimming parties, and a good deal of necking, she never went “all the way.” So her Catholic conscience did not much trouble her. But for her, unlike her sisters, her social and romantic life was an embarrassment of riches. There were so many boyfriends, some more serious than others, that Maureen never seemed able to settle down and select the one who would be a life’s companion. And so it went until her prospect of marriage thickened and finally congealed. The two little girls became her life.
As time went by, Mary Lou seemed to grow closer to Maureen. She certainly was more dependent. It was likely she never lost the deep fear that she might be returned to the orphanage. That might explain why she virtually became Maureen’s shadow. Occasionally, friends would observe that Mary Lou was becoming a clone of the sisters. As an adult, she flitted from one job—usually clerical—to another. The problem had nothing to do with incompetence. It was more a case of thin self-confidence.
As more time went by, Mary Lou came to alternate employment with learning experiences. The testimonials to her accomplishments piled up. On the walls of her room were certificates of graduation from schools of cosmetology, financial management, floral design, and the like. It was difficult for Mary Lou to grow close to Brenda because …
Brenda was the antithesis of Mary Lou. Brenda was filled with quiet self-confidence. Life was marked with goals and achievement of goals. Thus it surprised many when she took a job with the chancery of the archdiocese of Detroit. A secretarial position, even at the top, in the chancery’s Department of Finance and Administration paid only a fraction of what she could have earned in a secular office. The only logical conclusion was that it had to be a stepping-stone to something else—though what that something else might be certainly was a mystery.
That made up the dramatis personae of Oona’s birthday party.
Father Koesler pulled into a parking space near Eileen’s property. As he approached her gate, somewhere inside a dog was barking furiously.
Three other cars were parked nearby. Given the likelihood that all were here for Oona’s party, they were still one guest shy. Eileen’s car would be in the single garage. That left two sisters, two “nieces,” and him. Five. But there were only four cars in the lot. Since he was just two minutes early, someone was going to be late. As he had not memorized who drove what, he had no clue as to who was tardy.
With some trepidation, he eased open the gate. No dog in view. Thank God. But the barking grew more frantic. It must be Eileen’s latest mastiff. As long as the beast was confined to the basement, Koesler could be unconcerned if not downright fearless.
He tried the doorknob. Locked. How like Eileen. If the gate was unlocked, the door certainly would be locked. Come to think of it, she would be happier with both locked.
He knocked
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