Habit To Heels Chapter 13

The sounds of the chapel bells and the rapids of the Grand River mix to set the mood. Tara adjusts her wimple as she prepares to attend morning prayers. She smiles and nods to Sisters Willa, Carolyn, and Andrea. She takes a seat between Sisters Asia and Alexa. Everything feels familiar, but Tara senses change coming.

As prayers conclude, Sister Eugene approaches with a gentle smile, that hides her intent. "Tara, dear," she says softly, "I have some news."

Tara already knows.  

Sister Eugene still tries to smile, "Due to new ownership and management changes, St. Rose can no longer send you to work at Maple Tree Rest." Eugene's words are not unexpected, nor without foreshadowing. "I know you'll leave your vocation as a social worker with the same dignity and poise you've always shown," Eugene continues.

The financial reality is equally clear to Tara. Her work stipend returns to St. Rose as tithe, covering her apartment and board. Now, without her work at Maple Tree, her time living outside the convent also concludes. The possibility of returning to life inside the convent fills Tara with a tangle of emotions.

As Tara walks toward the Sky Chicken, Sister Andrea runs and catches up to her in the parking lot. Andrea says, "Tara, there's talk that you're moving back to live with us here at St. Rose. Is it true?"

Tara watches Andrea closely, unsure of her motive. Still, she answers honestly,

"Yes, Andrea. By next month, I'll be back here." She glances up at the large, dark grey stone building.

Andrea offers an olive branch, "Tara, I know we haven't always agreed. But come back and be my roommate. Remember when it was you and me, years ago?" She places a hand on Tara's shoulder. "Think about it seriously. And think about how many of the Sisters here want you to become our next Mother Superior. I'll talk to Sister Willa and others. If the Abbot doesn't choose Tabby, he'll choose you. You know it, and so do the others."

Tara climbs into the Sky Chicken, then turns back as she turns the key, she looks up and says, "OK, Andy. I'll consider it."

As Tara arrives at Maple Tree Rest, a muzak version of Sam Cooke's A Change is Gonna Come can be heard over the intercom.

Tara barely steps into the foyer before Jenna intercepts her. "We're supposed to be friends," Jenna says.

Before Tara can respond, Mrs. Sherwood, Maple Tree's manager, hurries down the hallway. She is still far away, but she starts verbalizing anyway, "Oh, Sister Tara. There you are, we need to speak."

Jenna can see that she has been interrupted. "Tara, we need to talk soon," Jenna insists, then turns and walks away with her head slumped.

Tara, relieved by the temporary escape, nods toward Mrs. Sherwood. Tara says, "OK, OK. I know I won't be the social worker here much longer."

Before Mrs. Sherwood can respond, Brenda, the nutritionist, arrives wearing her kitchen whites. She nods briefly toward Mrs. Sherwood, and quickly interjects, "Sister Tara, did you hear the news? Sister Evelyn from St. Rose will be a resident here starting next week. We will be her home while she recovers from her stroke."

The words land hard for Tara. Evelyn will be staying as a resident just as Tara is leaving.

"Thank you both," Tara says quietly. "It's a lot to take in at once. I understand the new owners and management doesn't want a nun as a social worker. I get it. And I'm sure Sister Evelyn will benefit from Maple Tree's care after her stroke." She smiles faintly, then walks away.

After evening prayers, Tara heads down the long hallway at St. Rose toward the storage lockers. She's looking for large moving boxes. As she opens a locker door, Sister Tabby appears like a shadow, blocking the light, Tabby's presence is hard to ignore.

"Hello, Sister Tara. A word?" Tabby's voice clear but unreadable.

Tara rolls her eyes privately before responding, "Yes, Reverend Mother. How may I help you?"

Tabby slowly begins, "Sister Tara, I have known you since you began living at St. Rose, when you were still a teenager. I was one of your early teachers, remember?"

Tara looks up from her boxes, "Yes Reverend Mother. Are we traveling down memory lane tonight?"

Tabby's tone is more clipped now but, calm. Tabby says,"I know your time staying in your apartment and working at Maple Tree is ending. Also, Sister Evelyn will be at the rest home for the foreseeable future."

Tara picks up a box and adds it to her growing stack. She says, "Yes. All true. That's why I'm collecting moving boxes."

Tabby clears her throat. "Sister, stop gathering boxes for a second. This is important!"

Tara pauses, and takes an exasperated breath, "OK, Tabby. What's so pressing?"

Tabby steps fully into the doorway now, her habit casting a long shadow across the storage floor. "Tara," she begins, voice even and deliberate, "I want to offer you something I rarely offer, a glimpse into what it truly means to lead this place."

Tara straightens slowly, the box still in her hands. Turns toward the shadow and says, "I'm listening."

Tabby folds her hands, and continues, "You've been in the field. You've served. You've sacrificed. That I don't question. But here, inside these stone walls, leadership is not compassion alone. It's decision-making. Cold, constant, and often difficult."

Tara says nothing, but Tabby has her attention.

"You see Sister Tara," Sister Tabby continues, "When you sit at the top, every choice you make ripples. Food budgets, room assignments, staffing changes. One misjudgment and someone suffers. Quietly, of course, but they always do."

She walks toward a stack of old hymnals nearby, trailing her fingers across the dusty covers. "Choosing between two sick nuns and one open space. Between silence and transparency. Between dignity and control. And everyone," Sister Tabby pauses, and then gazes right into Tara's eyes, "Tara, Let me tell YOU, EVERYONE, will believe they could have done it better. They tell you that straight to your face."

Tara finally sets the box down and replies, "Is this your way of warning me off? Or recruiting me?"

Tabby quickly laughs at Tara's remark. The acting Mother Superior continues,   "It's my way of showing you the cost of ambition, Sister Tara. You might have allies now. But support fades when people don't get what they want. And it's lonely up there. As they say it's very lonely at the top."

Tara looks down at the box, then back at Tabby. "So you're saying I shouldn't want the role."

"I'm saying," Tabby says coolly, "be careful what roles others want for you. They may be offering you the crown, only because they don't want to wear it themselves."

A long silence stretches between them.

Then Tara nods. "Thank you for your honesty, Reverend Mother."

Tabby turns toward the hallway. "You're welcome. But remember, honesty doesn't mean encouragement." She leaves without waiting for a response, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Tara exhales slowly, alone now, surrounded by boxes and the faint smell of old wood dust. She doesn't know if Tabby's words were meant to discourage, intimidate, or invite understanding. Either way, Tara knows It is her against Tabby when the Abbot comes to decide on a permanent Mother Superior going forward at St. Rose.

As she steps into her apartment. Tara muses out loud, " Hey it's Wednesday night."

She picks up her phone and dials.

"Deb? It's Tara. Can you meet me at Bonita's? I need makeup. For tonight."

Tara laughs laughs. "Yes I'm sure, I'm sure?"

"I'll pay you the forty. I know I can't really afford it."

A pause. "OK see you soon." Tara hangs up the phone.

Tara grabs the Rutherford Department store bag from under her bed. Inside the bag are the plum-colored bra and matching panties. Satin. Never worn.

She changes quickly out of the Habit and into her usual traveling sweats. She briefly stops while nude in front of the mirror, and catches a gaze of her own form. She turns on profile and twists to check out her own ass. Tara smiles, as she kicks one of her legs backward.   "Amateur Night," she says out loud.

She grabs her bag and walks out the door into the soft, sweet night air. It's the first warm day of the year.