Last Call by Laura Pedersen Read Free Book Online Page B

stone exterior. With the roof sagging in places it looks more like a dilapidated fortress than a house of worship. And no matter how many fire escapes are attached it could never be enough. The enormous weeping willow trees on the front lawn and rows of dark green hedges alongside the building are thick with solitude.
    “Listen,” says Hayden, quickly wondering what might make the best case for seeing her again, “I’ve been doing some research into all this death and dying folderol, and I’d be happy to share my files if you’re interested.”
    A dark shadow crosses Rosamond’s face, as if she’s forgotten how she became acquainted with Hayden in the first place.
    “I mean,” Hayden continues, “if you want to give me your number—”
    “There’s no telephone here.”
    “Oh, well, then I’ll give you my address—”
    But Sister Rosamond is already shaking her head from side to side indicating that this is also forbidden. She carefully rearranges her habit before exiting the car. Beyond the tall iron gates the warm summer sun can be seen dipping behind a tomb of dark gray clouds.
    “Then I guess it was nice meetin’ you,” Hayden calls through the window on the driver’s side. He’s surprised to feel so disappointed at being turned down, the sting of the no-sale compounded by the personal rebuff. But really, what’s the point? He’s dying, she’s dying. And to top it off she’s a nun. They’re as different as chalk and cheese.
    “Thank you so much,” she says through the open window. “For a few hours I forgot about all my woes and felt like a schoolgirl during recess.” The simple daily routine of the convent is supposed to free one’s mind to concentrate on God. Yet Rosamond can’t remember feeling so exultant as when the batter hit a surprise home run during the final inning and hundreds of spectators collectively gasped before bursting into wild applause. And Hayden reached around and squeezed her shoulder as if they’d known each other forever.
    However, this unexpected surge of emotion only increases Rosamond’s sense of being a complete failure as a nun. On the twentieth anniversary of taking her vows she’s not coming at all close to fulfilling her calling, to achieving a state of exhilaration in her love for Him and progressing toward grace through the power of contemplative prayer and devotion. Instead, she feels spiritually bereft, with a heart like a dried-up riverbed. And now this terrible disease, certainly meant as a test, is muddling her faith worse than ever rather than providing the focus and clarity she so desperately craves.
    “So long,” he and Joey both shout as Hayden slowly turns the car around in the narrow gravel driveway lined with tall dark elms. The onset of dusk makes the chinks of remaining light that filter through the trees appear as if gold dust is falling to earth.
    As they pull away Joey glances out the back window. “Hey, Grandpa, stop the car. The nun is chasing us!”
    And sure enough, in the rearview mirror it appears as if a diminutive Darth Vader complete with flowing black cloak is awkwardly dashing after them through the deceptive shadows of twilight.
    “It’s Attila the Nun!” Hayden rolls down his window.
    “Perhaps you can pick me up on Friday at ten?” she asks breathlessly. “I’ll say it’s a doctor’s appointment.”
    Hayden nods in agreement, but before they can make further plans she turns and runs off again. Rosamond hurries through the hedge and back toward her world without television, newspapers, radio, movies, fashion, or men, except for Father Edwin, who comes to administer the sacraments and hear confession. Back to a place where the passing of time is marked by the changing colors of the altar clothes, and the vitality of someone such as Hayden MacBride is noticeably absent. Rosamond briefly stops in front of the permanently open but empty grave located at the entrance to the chapel, an ever-present reminder of the rich