Crux Sacra Sit Mihi Lux
Early spring 1972...
Monday, the beginning of another week at St. Catherine Central High School, sent Ruth Cahill's mind wandering while she stared at the open window during History class. Winter, heavy with snow and cold, dragged her down. But winter moved on and spring has moved in. Easter Sunday ushered in bright blue skies and a symphony of birdsong after mass. Today the budding trees nodded in the light breeze, drawing Ruth's attention away from the unanswered question on the essay test in front of her.
The girl's fingers briefly touched the top button on her uniform blouse before picking her pen back up.
Identify three social causes of the French Revolution.
Ruth bit her lip and exhaled loud enough to draw attention from the front of the classroom. "Ruth, eyes on your own paper. Stay on task."
"Yes, Sister."
Several agonizing minutes later, and Ruth was able to eke out enough words to fill a page and a half. She knew it wouldn't be enough. Her teacher, Sister Ambrose, had high standards. Ruth figured she'd be lucky to get by with a C, but she just couldn't think of anything else to write. She was too excited, maybe. Excited by the change in weather and looking forward to Friday.
Ruth looked up at the wall clock and brought her test paper up front. "Um, Sister, there's something I need to tell you--"
"After the bell rings, Ruth, you may." The dour looking nun stared over the tops of her glasses at the girl. She stood up and clapped once, loudly, to get everyone's attention. "There's a minute or so left, ladies. Anyone who hasn't already done so, please pass your test up front." A chorus of weak groans rippled through the rows of senior girls. Some hurried to finish their last sentence or paragraph while others gathered their things to stand by the door.
After an agonizing minute and a half, the bell rang. The nun stood sentinel, collecting test papers at her desk while Ruth waited. When they were finally alone, Sr. Ambrose sat back down. She shuffled the papers and put them in a file folder before putting them in her bag to grade later. "I presume you have something important to tell me."
"Mom and dad are going to Chicago Friday." Ruth said. "They won't be back home till Monday afternoon. I don't mind staying home alone, but--"
"They called Sr. Clement yesterday and she said it would be nice to have you stay with me this weekend. The others are attending a retreat, but I'll be staying here."
"Really?" Ruth gushed. "That's great!"
The nun stared gravely over the tops of her glasses again. "I'll thank you in advance to keep this just between the two of us." She said.
"I won't say anything at all--promise!" Ruth softly replied. She was a little cowed by the nun's admonition.
Sr. Jean Ambrose had a presence about her. She taught World History and PE at the small school of 280 girls. The slim 42 year old Dominican nun had a reputation as a fearsome and demanding taskmaster. She had a steel trap memory in the classroom and a way of regurgitating historical facts as if she were telling a riveting story around a campfire. Ruth never needed to take notes because Sr. Ambrose told such gripping tales, but she did it anyway.
Gym class at St. Catherine was run with militaristic routine. And although Ruth loved History class, there were times when she couldn't deny looking forward to gym a little more. It was really the only time Ruth saw her teacher wear regular clothes. During gym, the nun wore short sleeved shirts and track pants. For one blissful period of the day, her coif and veil were noticeably missing, revealing a nimbus of short, blunt and extremely light blond hair. Ruth's eyes fixated on the woman's graceful, almost swanlike neck. The cords stood visibly out whenever she blew her whistle or barked out a command. Her voice was powerful, deep, and curt.
Sr. Ambrose fascinated Ruth. She wasn't like the other nuns. Ruth sensed almost right away that Sr. Ambrose wasn't even like other women in general. She was odd and uniquely mysterious. The middle aged woman stood at average height, about 5'6", 5'7". Her build could best be described as lithe, yet solid like a competitive runner. Piercing light blue eyes shot existential daggers from behind the oval frames of her glasses. Her features were a little rugged and somewhat masculine--butch was what she'd heard the father of one of her classmates said. Later when Ruth looked the word up in the dictionary, she thought the description fit her teacher well.
Heads turned when the veteran teacher entered a room, and Ruth remembered the overwhelming feeling of awe that came over her when she saw her during the first week of her freshman year.
Ruth was now 18 and graduation was a little more than a month away. The thought of this made her sad and anxious. During her four years at St. Catherine's, Sr. Ambrose slowly formed a rapport with Ruth. Though she had a few friends at school, Ruth wasn't close with any of them. She'd always been a somewhat shy and introverted type, so she kept mostly to herself. But when Sr. Ambrose was around, Ruth felt herself opening up. It was strange how natural it seemed and how well they got along with each other.
Ruth remembered picture day last year, what a disaster that was! Her mother bought some hideous dress she'd ordered from the JC Penney catalog. After going downtown to pick it up at the store, her mom took her to Lil and Jill's Beauty Spot where she'd lost a couple inches of her stunning light strawberry locks. It'd taken over a year to grow it past her shoulders. Ruth was immensely proud of her hair even if she tried never to show it. When she stood and looked at the mirror, the reflection staring back had finally grown from an awkward and reticent child to a fresh-faced and lovely young woman. Her mom ruined that as far as she was concerned.
At lunch, Ruth didn't feel much like talking to anyone so she sat alone. She finished picking at the contents of her tray and was about to get up to dump the leftovers in the trash when Sr. Ambrose appeared. "Hey there, kid, why so glum?" She asked.
