Evangeline’s interests were more practical, and she would rather pore over the lists of local charities run by the sisters-the food bank in Poughkeepsie, the Spirit of World Peace Study Group in Milton, and the St. Rose-Salvation Army Annual Clothes Drive that had drop-off locations from Woodstock to Red Hook. But like all the other nuns who took vows at St. Rose, Evangeline had learned the basic facts about angels. She knew that angels were created before the earth formed, their voices ringing through the void as God molded heaven and earth (Genesis 1:1-5). Evangeline knew that angels were immaterial, ethereal, filled with luminosity, and yet they spoke in human language-Hebrew according to Jewish scholars, Latin or Greek according to Christian. Although the Bible had only a handful of instances of angelophony-Jacob wrestling an angel (Genesis 32:24-30); Ezekiel’s vision (1:1-14); the Annunciation (Luke 1:26-38)-these moments were wondrous and divine, instances when the gossamer curtain between heaven and earth ripped and all of humanity witnessed the marvel of ethereal beings. Evangeline often wondered at this meeting of man and angel, the material and immaterial brushing against each other like wind against the skin. In the end she concluded that trying to capture an angel in the mind was a bit like scooping water with a sieve. And yet the sisters of St. Rose had not given up the effort. Hundreds and hundreds of books about angels lined the shelves of their library.
To Evangeline’s surprise, Sister Philomena joined her at the fire. Philomena’s body was as round and dappled as a pear, her height reduced by osteoporosis. Recently Evangeline had become concerned about Sister Philomena’s health when she began to forget meetings and misplace her keys. The nuns of Philomena’s generation-known by the younger generation as the Elder Sisters-were not able to retire from their duties until much later in life, so dramatically had the order’s numbers decreased in the years after the Vatican II reforms. Sister Philomena in particular always appeared overworked and agitated. In some ways Vatican II had robbed the older generation of retirement.
Evangeline herself believed the reforms beneficial for the most part-she had been free to choose a comfortable uniform over the old-fashioned Franciscan habit and had participated in modern educational opportunities, taking a degree in history from nearby Bard College. The opinions of the Elder Sisters, by contrast, seemed frozen in time. Yet, strange as it seemed, Evangeline held views that were often similar to those of the Elder Sisters, whose opinions had been formed during the Roosevelt era and the Depression and World War II. Evangeline found she admired the opinions of Sister Ludovica, their oldest sister at 104, who would command Evangeline to sit at her side and listen to stories of the old days. “There was none of this laissez-faire, do-what-you-want-to-with-your-time nonsense,” Sister Ludovica would say, leaning over in her wheelchair, her thin hands shaking slightly on her lap. “We were sent to orphanages and parochial schools to teach before we knew the subject! We worked all day and prayed all night! There was no heat in our cells! We bathed in cold water and ate cooked oats and potatoes for supper! When there were no books, I memorized all of John Milton’s Paradise Lost so that I could recite his lovely, lovely words to my class: ‘Th’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile, / Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived / The mother of mankind, / What time his pride / Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host / Of rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring / To sethimselfin glory above his peers, / He trusted to have equalled the Most High, / If he opposed, and with ambitious aim /Against the throne and monarchy of God, / Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud, / With vain attempt.’ Did the children memorize Milton, too? Yes! Now, I am sad to say, education is all fun and games.”
Still, despite their vast differences in opinion about the changes, the sisters lived as a harmonious family. They were protected from the vicissitudes of the outside world in ways that seculars were not. The St. Rose land and buildings had been bought outright in the late nineteenth century, and despite the temptation to modernize their quarters, they did not borrow on the property. They produced fruits and vegetables on the grounds, their henhouse gave four dozen eggs a day, and their pantries were filled with preserves. The convent was so secure, so abundantly stocked with food and medicine, so well equipped for their intellectual and spiritual needs, that the sisters sometimes joked that if a second Flood were to encompass the Hudson River Valley, it would be possible for the women of St. Rose Convent simply to bolt the heavy iron doors at the front and back entrances, seal the windows tight, and pray on as usual for many years to come in their own self-sustaining ark.
Sister Philomena took Evangeline by the arm and led her to her office, where, stooping over her work area, the dolman sleeves of her habit brushing the keys of the typewriter, she searched through the papers for something. Such hunting about her office was not unusual. Philomena was nearly blind, with thick glasses that occupied a disproportionate portion of her face, and Evangeline often helped her to locate objects that were hidden in plain sight. “Perhaps you can help me,” Sister Philomena said at last.
“I am happy to assist,” Evangeline said, “if you tell me what to look for.”
“I believe we received a letter regarding our angelic collection. Mother Perpetua had a telephone call from a young man in New York City-a researcher or consultant or something of that nature. He claims to have written a letter. Has such a letter come across your desk? I know I would not have missed it had I found such an inquiry. Mother Perpetua wants to be sure we are consistent with St. Rose policy. She would very much like a response sent at once.”
“The letter came today,” Evangeline said.
Sister Philomena peered through the lenses of her glasses, her eyes large and watery as she strained to see Evangeline. “You have read it, then?”
“Of course,” Evangeline said. “I open all mail the instant it arrives.”
“It was a request for information?”
Evangeline was not used to being questioned so directly about her work. “Actually,” she said, “it was a request to visit our archives in search of specific information about Mother Innocenta.”
A dark look passed over Philomena’s face. “You’ve replied to the letter?”
“With our standard response,” Evangeline said, leaving out the fact that she had destroyed the letter before mailing it, an act of duplicity that felt deeply foreign. It was unsettling-her ability to lie to Philomena with such ease. Nevertheless, Evangeline continued, “I am aware that we do not allow amateur research in the archives,” she said. “I wrote that it is our standard policy to refuse such requests. Of course, I was polite.”
“Fine,” Philomena said, examining Evangeline with particular interest. “We must be very careful when we open our home to outsiders. Mother Perpetua gave specific orders to block all inquiries.”
Evangeline was not at all surprised that Mother Perpetua took such a personal interest in their collection. She was a gruff and distant figure at the convent, one whom Evangeline did not see often, a woman with strong opinions and a heady management style whom the Elder Sisters admired for frugality and faulted for modern vision. Indeed, Mother Perpetua had pushed for the Elder Sisters to implement the more benign Vatican II changes, urging them to discard their cumbersome woolen habits for those of lighter fabrics, a suggestion they did not take.