Echoes

“Yes, thank you, Mother, I did.” Amadea had closed the door behind her when she entered the room. “I have something I have to tell you, which I didn't know when I came in.” The Mother Superior waited. She could see that it was something serious. The young nun looked upset. “I never knew that my mother wasn't born Catholic. She told me today that she converted to Catholicism before she married my father. She was born Jewish. Her family was deported the day after Kristallnacht. I never knew them because they disowned my mother when she married my father, and never saw her again. My grandmother finally met us two years before I came in. But my grandfather never allowed my mother to see the rest of them again. They wrote her down as dead.” She looked up at the Mother Superior, and took a breath. “She says that no one seems to have any record of her history. She never registered, she has no passport. My parents lived in Switzerland for three years before we moved back here. I was born there. She has her marriage certificate to my father, which says she's Catholic. My birth certificate says they both are. But I'm half Jewish, Mother. I never knew that before. And I'm afraid now that if I stay, I will put everyone at risk.” It was exactly why Sister Teresa Benedicta had just left.

“We are not at risk, my child, and neither are you. From what you're telling me, no one knows your mother's circumstances. Is she planning to register as a Jew with the police?”

Amadea shook her head. “No, she's not. She leads a quiet life, and there is no reason for anyone to find out.” It was not honest, admittedly, but it was practical, and there were lives at stake. Both Daphne's and hers, and Amadea's. Even those of the other nuns perhaps. The Mother Superior did not appear to disapprove. “Sister Teresa Benedicta's circumstances were entirely different from yours. She was born fully Jewish, and she was well known as a lecturer and an activist, before she came here. She's a convert. You're not. She brought a great deal of attention to herself before she became a nun. You are a young girl who grew up as a Catholic. And with any luck at all, no one will ever realize that your mother didn't grow up Catholic, too. If she stays quiet, hopefully no one will ever know. If something happens to change that, I'm sure she'll let us know. In that case, we can spirit you away somewhere. This is precisely what I didn't like about Sister Benedicta's circumstances—it panics everyone. There is no need for alarm in your case. You came here as an innocent young girl, not as a grown woman who was known, had converted, and drawn attention to herself. In her case, it was wisdom to leave. In yours, it is imperative to stay. That is, if you want to stay.” She looked at her questioningly, and Amadea looked relieved.

“Yes, I do. But I was afraid you would want me to go. I will, if that is ever what you wish.” If so, it would have been the ultimate sacrifice to Amadea, for the good of the others. And her “small way” of denying herself for them. Saint Teresa's “small way” was self-denial in God's name.

“It's not. And Sister,”—she looked at her sternly then, as a mother would to admonish a child—“it is very important that you not discuss this with anyone. No one. We will keep this information between us.” And then she looked up with concern. “Do you know what happened to your mother's family? Has she heard anything?”

“She believes they were sent to Dachau.” The Mother Superior said nothing and pursed her lips. She hated what was happening to the Jews, as they all did.

“Please tell her that I'm sorry when you write to her. But do it discreetly,” she said, and Amadea nodded, looking grateful for her kindness.

“Mother, I don't want to leave. I want to take my solemn vows.”

“If that is God's will, then you shall.” But they both knew it was still four and a half years away. It seemed an eternity to the young nun. She was determined to get there and let nothing stand in her way. They had just overcome a great obstacle in the last half-hour. “Do not confuse your circumstances with those of Sister Teresa Benedicta. That is a very different case.” And it had been a severe one, with high risk for all concerned. This was not, in her opinion.

“Thank you, Mother.” Amadea thanked her again and left a moment later, as the Mother Superior sat at her desk, looking pensive for a long moment. She wondered how many more of these circumstances existed behind the convent walls. It was possible there were others she wasn't aware of, and perhaps the nuns themselves had no idea, as Amadea hadn't. But it was better not to know.