Past Transgressions by CJ Ruff

Ms. Ruff has a Bachelor’s Degree in English from Lourdes College, a private liberal-arts college in Sylvania, Ohio. Her work has been featured on the online publication MysteryWeekly.Com and she received an Honorable Mention for a short story that will be published in the next issue of The Creative Writers Journal. Ms. Ruff lives with her husband Richard, cat Henry, and cocker spaniel Penelope in Toledo, Ohio.

Sister Charity considered the future as she gazed from the convent window at a dark and unusually cold afternoon in late October. Autumn had always been her favorite season. But this one was different. This one brought dread and foreboding. Charity and several other sisters were the last of the faculty and staff of the nearly defunct St. Mary’s College. The school was set to close in December, and Charity and the others had the responsibility of cleaning up the last few details before turning over the keys to the new owners who had plans to turn the college into low-income housing.

She walked away from the window and wondered where the past had gone and why the future was so different from what she had anticipated it would be twelve years ago when she and her best friend Shannon had so enthusiastically joined the Mercy Sisters of God.

She recalled how Shannon had not had any interest in teaching and was content to handle all household chores while the other sisters worked in administrative or teaching roles.

The first couple years had passed uneventfully. Then Shannon had, without warning, insisted on moving from the third floor, where all of the sisters lived, to the basement.

“But why Shannon? Won’t you be lonely without all of us nearby?” Charity had asked her.

“Oh no, I’ll be just fine.” she insisted. “It’ll put me closer to the kitchen and laundry room.”

Two years went by. It was a strangely silent morning when Charity awoke earlier than usual. She recalled feeling that something was not right in the house. She never knew what guided her downstairs to the dark basement where she found Shannon lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Her wrists had been slashed in the most shocking fashion; the gashes were jagged and deep. She rushed to the dead nun’s side, dropped to her knees and began to pray the rosary.

“Why Shannon?” she whispered through sobs. She sat on the floor for what seemed an eternity before she was able to calm down. Finally, she stood up and noticed two envelopes on the nightstand. One was addressed to her and the other to a Father Cameron. She took both envelopes and slipped them into her pocket and hurried back upstairs to her room. There she changed and cleaned the blood stains off her clothing as best she could. She couldn’t sleep, but she could at least hide from reality. It would not be long though before she heard the sobbing of Sister Cynthia in the hallway and then a hurried knock.

“Charity, Charity,” she cried as she furiously wrapped on her door. “Something terrible has happened, something so terrible.”

She shook her head as if she could somehow lose the tragic memories and fast forward to life after Shannon. But as she was packing that morning, she came across the letters. She had never read hers, and she still had the priest’s letter, the priest who was now a bishop and living a block from the school.

At that time, she and the other sisters had felt they were doing the right thing by keeping Shannon’s suicide a secret, but as the years wore on, she knew it wasn’t right. She recalled with shame and revulsion how she and Sister Cynthia had labored for hours in the basement cleaning up the mess, and then how the mother superior had contacted a funeral home that would help them keep their secret. No one was the wiser when they viewed Shannon in her casket clothed in white with her hands folded neatly across her chest.

She resolved to deliver the bishop’s letter to him soon.

“Hello, Father Simmons. How are you?” inquired Charity.

“Why Sister Charity.” the elderly priest spoke delightedly. “Please come in.” he said as he waved her in. “It’s so nice to see you. What a nice surprise.” Then over his shoulder he spoke to Bishop Cameron. “Blake look who’s here. It’s Sister Charity.”

The bishop quietly and gracefully walked towards Charity and took her hand, smiled and said, “Sister, hello. How are you?” then he paused and spoke sadly. “How is the move going? I know you’re responsible for closing the college. It’s a big job. But I know you’re the best one for it.”

“Thank you Bishop, I hope I am. But I do have the help of several other sisters.” she said. A sad look swept across his face, but it went away just as quickly.

“Sit down. Would you like a cup of tea, or perhaps coffee?” asked Father Simmons.

“Oh no, thank you Father; I’ve just really come here to speak with the bishop for a few moments, if you have the time.” she said as she turned towards him.

He smiled eloquently and bowed his head slightly. “Well, yes, I do have some time right now.”

“Could we speak in private?”

“Certainly.” he smiled. They went into his office and he quietly shut the door. He gestured towards two chairs near the window and they sat down.

“Bishop, several years ago one of our sisters, Sister Shannon, died at the convent, in the basement, to be exact. She had been living there for a couple of years, in the basement that is, and I am the one who found her that morning.”

Charity paused before going on. Her heart was racing as she began to tell the bishop the truth about Shannon’s death.

“At the time, it was believed that she had died from a bad heart. That fact is bishop she took her own life.”

She watched as the bishop turned pale and grasped the table’s edge. Then she continued. “Bishop, I didn’t know, or I don’t know, I guess, if you knew her very well. I don’t recall you attending her funeral. But she wrote two letters and left them on her nightstand; one was addressed to you and one to me. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I’ve kept these letters all these years. I’ve never read either of them, nor have I told anyone about them.” Charity paused.

The bishop raised his hand as if to silence her. “Sister, wait. I need to lie down, and I need for you to get me a glass of water, please.”

Charity did as she was told as the bishop moved swiftly to the sofa across the room.

As she hurried to him, she began again. “Bishop, are you okay? You’re not blaming yourself for what Shannon did are you? I mean, maybe the letter is just her way of confessing to a priest. Perhaps she just used you as that instrument. She never mentioned knowing you. You can hardly hold yourself responsible for what happened.”

He took a swallow of the water. “Thank you.” He held the glass against his forehead.

The bishop had always been a handsome man. He was tall, thin, with dark hair and sad kind eyes that always seemed to be searching for something. Charity had never been this close to him. She didn’t know how to react to his strange behavior.

She tried to hurry their meeting along by handing him the letter. “Bishop, here is the letter. I’ve always felt guilty about keeping this letter from you for so long. Please take it.”