Family Connections Never Die by Nico Mara
FICTION
The welcome sound of a whistling kettle greeted Sr. Miriam as she brought in the last of the luggage from the car. Sr. Mary was preparing supper, while Sr. Ann was putting fresh bedlinen on the three of the four beds in the simply furnished cabin. One of the nuns had lit a fire in the small hearth to take the evening chill out of the spring air.
Miriam remembered coming here for her first retreat. The cosy homeliness of the cabin reminded her of her own home far away and was in stark contrast to the vast space of the convent with its ornate statues and solemn silence. It was the first time she felt at home in this strange country with its unique wildlife and she felt closer to God and nature as she walked by the seashore, away from the oppressive silence of the convent and the hustle and bustle of the city.
She was the senior nun now, despite being only a few years older than her companions and she hoped that they would find the same peace here that she found in the more relaxed atmosphere that the cabin allowed.
Retiring early that night, lulled to sleep by the gentle whisper of the sea, the nuns awoke to birdsong and after morning prayer set about domestic chores before tackling the day. While preparing breakfast Miriam saw a calender on the wall and noted the date; 29 November. As she enjoyed her walk in the spring sunshine, she thought of her family on the other side of the world facing into winter and thought of the last time she had seen her parents. Despite joining a congregation in her home town, she was not allowed to go home to say goodbye, nor were her family allowed inside the convent, so the night before she left, her parents had come and said their goodbyes over the convent wall, neither party knowing when they would be together again.
Later that evening as the three nuns enjoyed a singsong around the piano, there was a bang on the door. Knock, knock, knock. Three ponderous bangs. The nuns jumped. It was too late for unexpected guests and they hadn’t heard a car. Being two miles from the nearest cabin, any visitors would have had to drive to the isolated cabin.
Adjusting her habit, Miriam opened the door, with the younger nuns behind her. Peering out they could see nobody. Gingerly, Miriam stepped outside and looked around, but again they could see nobody. They froze as they heard the rustle of bushes in the still night and Ann laughed with relief when she spotted the kangaroo bouncing into the undergrowth.
The nuns went back to their entertainment, the incident soon forgotten. Miriam however, couldn’t shake an unsettling feeling and despite the warmth of the cabin, she felt a foreboding chill. The remainder of the retreat passed without incident and buoyed by the fresh sea air, the three nuns returned to their convent in good spirits and joined the rest of their order in preparing to celebrate Christmas.
Early in the New Year a long awaited letter arrived at the convent for Miriam. Recognising her father’s spidery writing, Miriam tore the envelope open and read the letter hungrily.
‘Dear Mira,’
‘It is with deep sorrow that I have to inform you that your darling mother died peacefully last November 29.’
Nico Mara lives in rural Ireland. Her work can be found in Discourse Magazine, Here Comes Everyone, and Readers Digest, amongst others. Nico Mara is a pen name.
