Ascension Pt. 02

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.

1 John, 4-7

Saturday, Early Spring, 1972...

The dreams Ruth Cahill had last night! Were they dreams, or were they messages from God himself? She woke slowly, relishing the warm comfort of the thick blankets drawn up around her. She felt refreshed, but now she was keenly aware of a flutter in her stomach and chest. Last night, and in her dreams, God spoke to Ruth.

She saw it. She felt it. She smelled and tasted it: God's love.

Wrapped up in these exhilarating new feelings, the girl sat up in the bed in the small room she shared last night with Sr. Jean Ambrose. Sister was gone, probably downstairs. The window next to the dresser was opened. A soft balmy breeze made the curtains dance. A wistful smile lit the lovely features of Ruth's face and she softly exhaled. It looked like the curtains were waving at her.Good Morning, Sunshine!

Ruth sat up and slow motioned out of the bed. She yanked at the bedding and wrapped a sheet around herself before padding across to the tiny bathroom. She closed herself in and used the toilet before deciding to brush her teeth and get dressed. She saw that some of her toiletries had been placed around the sink. She brushed her teeth and rummaged through her overnight bag for the clothes she wanted to wear. Jean must have gotten up early and gone downstairs, Ruth thought. As she finished putting her clothes on, she closed the window.

"Jean?" Ruth called out in the upstairs hallway. There was no answer. While she was getting dressed, she noticed the nun's glasses were gone from the dresser where she'd left them last night. She must be downstairs.

From the top of the stairs, a warm smell of strong black coffee filled Ruth's nostrils. She breathed in this familiar aroma and smiled. She followed the aromatic smell, complex and resinous with the slightest hint of something like chocolate, to the kitchen. The large space was awash with morning sunlight. The windows above the sink were open, admitting a light breeze through the screens.

Sr. Jean Ambrose sat alone at the small kitchen table. A large pile of papers stacked next to a smaller pile sat on top of a file folder. The nun, dressed in full habit, looked the picture of untarnished virtue, as she poured over the papers before her, wielding a red pen. Her veiled head was bowed as if in silent meditation while she read and applied the occasional marks and scribbled out the occasional comment. She paused to sip from the steaming cup of coffee beside her. Two small oatmeal cookies lay untouched on a saucer beside the cup.Cookies for breakfast! Ruth fought a sudden urge to laugh.

The red pen in Sister's hand paused, as if sensing the girl's presence. She looked up from her papers, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one finger. She didn't say anything when Ruth stood at the table opposite. A sudden bout of anxiety invaded the pit of the 18 year old's stomach. Maybe it was the intense quiet surrounding them. Maybe it was sight of Jean sitting there in full habit. After what happened last night, it seemed to signal a regression, a desire to retreat to the way things were. Ruth blinked and glanced briefly at the kitchen window as an errant breeze kissed her cheek.

"Jean, I called and couldn't find you, so I...came down here." Ruth said softly.

Sister's eyes, like twin chips of clear ice, stared at Ruth over the top of her glasses. "Remember, I am still Sister Ambrose when we're at school." She said. "Sit down."

Ruth swallowed hard, obliging the nun's inexplicably cold command. But it was often her way during class and in the hallways when students were present. Jean stood and went to the cupboard near the sink. From there she fetched a clean glass and poured Ruth some milk. "Are those the cookies Sr. Donovan made?" The girl wondered.

"Yes. There's cereal in the cupboard by the fridge." Jean replied as she sat back down. "Corn Flakes, I think, and Rice Krispies."

Ruth reached for a cookie. She took a small bite and washed it down with milk. "Uh, this is fine."

Jean shuffled through the papers she'd finished grading. Finding the one she wanted, she placed it on the table and pushed it towards Ruth. "The largest room in the world, kid, is room for improvement."

Immediately Ruth saw that it was the essay test she struggled with last Monday. The C minus in red pen near the top of the page by her name glared at her. "My--my mind was on other things, I guess..." Ruth's voice trailed off when she said this.

Identify three social causes for the French Revolution.

Sister's finger tapped the sentence on the test paper. "You write here that Louis the sixteenth had lost the Mandate of Heaven, but you didn't elaborate. You say nothing here about the monarch's lack of leadership capabilities or the increasing tax burdens put on the poor during his reign--"

By now, a lump had formed in Ruth's throat, and her vision was blurry. She dashed at her face, trying to wipe at the burning moisture threatening to run down her cheeks. She wasn't even listening to Jean. A C minus was still a passing grade, and graduation was right around the corner. But Jean seemed so distant and cold. Why was she acting like this? Ruth couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you...regret what happened, Sister?" The girl asked, voice quivering.Please, keep it together! "Because I don't. I mean, I was kind of scared at first, but--" She stopped when she saw Jean returning her graded test to the completed pile. The nun's lips mashed together, forming a slash across her face. Her eyes stared gravely behind the oval frames of her glasses. "Godly love is sweet and sacred. I would never regret a blessing like that."

"Me neither." Ruth said.

Jean's stern and steely gaze meant business. "But this should only be shared between the two of us. Do you understand?"

Ruth nodded tentatively. "I don't want to stop seeing you, Jean, but--"

"God's love is sacred and divine. But for most people, it is incomprehensible and would cause them to come to the wrong conclusions. To understand and receive his love, we have to untether ourselves with the world."

"I think I love you, Jean." Ruth sobbed, overcome with emotion. "No, I...know I love you!"

The nun's face softened. She put her hand on Ruth's. "I love you too, Ruthie." She said. "Very much. And I think you see the magnitude of God's favor. I'm sorry if I seemed cold earlier. I just..." She sighed, seeming a little flustered. "People might not understand. They might get the wrong idea, you see."

Ruth wiped her face with her fingers. "It's okay."

"That C minus isn't the end of the world." Jean said.

"I know."

Jean exhaled loudly and got up. "I've got to step over to the school for an hour or so." She said. "Ladies' Altar and Rosary meeting is in the gym this morning. You're welcome to come along if you'd like."

"Thanks, but I've got some math and science homework I need to finish up."

Jean smiled faintly and nodded. "It's a beautiful day." She observed, glancing at the open kitchen windows. "Maybe this afternoon we can go somewhere for a nice walk. We could go out somewhere nice to eat later. Do you like Chinese?"

Ruth smiled. "Sounds good." She said.

"It's a date then!" Jean said. She gathered up the papers she'd been grading and returned them to the file folder. "Don't forget to put your glass in the sink when you're finished." She said, caressing the girl's cheek before leaving.

Saturday, late afternoon in the Convent...

"You look surprised, Ruthie." Jean laughed.

Ruth shouldn't have been, but she was. She knew that Jean and the other nuns at the convent occasionally dressed in regular clothes. Jean and Sr. Hoban changed out of their habits each school day when they taught gym class. But Jean looked different. Now, she'd exchanged her habit for a lovely light blouse and thin sweater with dark slacks. The slacks, a deep forest green, were wide and cuffed at the hems. The already slim nun looked slimmer--and taller. The colors she chose set off her pale blond hair and frosty blue eyes. "What do you think?" Jean asked.

"You don't look like a nun." Ruth said.

"Gosh almighty, I hope not!" Jean chaffed. "Wouldn't want any sticklers around town thinking we're normal like anyone else." She gave the girl's arm a playful slap. "Remember, nuns live dreary lives--no fun allowed!"

Ruth laughed. She felt her cheeks flush with heat. "You look very handsome." Ruth breathed. "Beautiful, actually!"

"You're the beautiful one." Jean quietly mused. "I'm just old." She stood behind the gorgeous teen staring in the mirror at their reflection. Ruth felt a little underdressed with her corduroy pants and print button front shirt. Her lovely strawberry locks fell in shimmering torrents past her small shoulders. A few natural curls framed her face. Tempted by the beauty of the reflection, Jean's hand reached for one of those curls. She wrapped the curl around her finger slowly and deliberately before pressing her lips against the blushing teen's head.

***

They had dinner at the Gingko Lantern Inn, this very old Chinese restaurant with beautiful silk paintings of palace garden scenery on the walls. The sensuous whine of stringed instruments played lilting tunes while they ate. For dessert, they had little slices of almond cake with fresh Lychee fruits. The Lychee were very sweet, pairing well with the lightly floral and nutty taste of the cake. Jean had a cup of tea with hers. It was strong and black. Ruth loved the place and Jean said that they'd come back very soon. "Maybe for graduation." She said. "Oh yes!" Ruth said. "But I want it to just be the two of us." Jean replied with a sly grin and finished her tea. When they finished, the two headed back to St. Catherine's and the Convent.

Later that night in the Convent. Sr. Ambrose's room...

The brush Sr. Ambrose held made contact with Ruth's head. The light ginger red hue of the teen's hair reignited the promise of the coming summer ahead. "Hmmm..." Ruth audibly sighed when she felt the first pass of the bristles through her breezy bright locks. A thrilling tingle rippled down the back of her neck to her shoulders and arms. Gooseflesh erupted suddenly and she shuddered, delighting in the special attention she was receiving.

Ruth Cahill knew. This wasn't for just anybody. This was for her. Sure, her classmate, Lainey Walsh, devoted a lot of her time to helping Sr. Ambrose in History class. Often teased for being a teacher's pet, Lainey helped Sister with attendance and grading papers. Sometimes she could be seen just outside one of the doors of St. Catherine High clapping erasers. Other times Lainey sat close by the nun, busy behind her desk in the classroom, while she quietly did her homework. Yes, Lainey got special attention too, but not like this.

Not even close.

The stiff bristles of the hairbrush kissed Ruth's scalp, sending another scintillating tingle throughout her diminutive frame. The nun paused, gathering a bit of hair aside, before passing the bristles through those long lovely tresses. "Such a healthy and thick head of hair," Jean observed wistfully. "God has truly blessed you. Wish I was as blessed." The bristles paused for a second, mid brush, as Jean shifted her position on the edge of the bed. The girl, sitting beside her, moved to turn around, but the nun stopped her. "Not so fast, kid, I'm not finished!" She teased, laughing.

Ruth spun around now and reached for the brush. "Hey!" Jean laughed at the girl as she struggled to snatch the brush away. "Gimme that!" The nun's arm shot up, holding the brush overhead, playfully taunting. Ruth lunged at her, trying to grab it, and missed just as Sister bobbed up. She opened her hand when the girl's fingers closed around her wrist, letting the brush drop to the floor with a dull thud. Their bodies brushed together, colliding, and Ruth felt the older woman's arms around her. "Come here, you little twerp!" Jean growled, still teasing, as she seized the diminutive teen.

They embraced and Ruth suddenly felt lightheaded. Her eyelids fluttered as their lips met, mouths slightly open. And when they kissed, her mind went fractal once more, thoughts coming faster than her body could move. She felt Jean's tongue probing her mouth, searching. Here they were, all alone in the Convent for another night. Just the two of them while God revealed his truths and everlasting love. "Everything okay, Ruthie?" Jean's voice floated softly in the girl's ear.

Be still. God is speaking. Through Sister he speaks, preaching his message of boundless unending love. I'm here to listen. I'm here to receive his love.

Ruth remained still, basking in the soft glow teetering into oblivion. Another sharp thrill surged in the pit of stomach. Abdominal muscles tightened as they shared another kiss. She breathed in through her nostrils while their tongues touched. The exotic aromas of spice and dark wood conjured ghost notes of ancient Chinese Court music. The melody was lovely and haunting. Ruth remembered asking Jean about the music over dinner. "It's a bowed instrument called an Erhu." She explained. "How do you know that?" Ruth asked, incredulous. The nun swallowed a bite of her Lo Mein and grinned. "We teachers know everything. Comes with the territory."

From Ruth's perspective, nothing could ever compare to this day, and night, they've spent together. Except for the night before, the night they first made love. But with this kiss, all trepidation and fear vanished. With this kiss came God's love. With this kiss came God's promise to be there always. It was tantalizing, amazing, and...transcendent. Nothing could ever come close to describing how she felt in that moment, with her lips pressed against Jean's, feeling the tingle of electric humming sensation passing between them.

God is speaking; uplifting and transforming that which he created. Listen and be still.

His promise, made flesh, flowed from Jean's body to Ruth's. The sensuous language of love remained unspoken. And the more they kissed, the higher Ruth felt. Each parting of their lips, and each swipe of the tongue, drove the lovers further and further into the stratosphere. A divine possession had taken place, manifested in Sister's deep whisper: "Still nervous?"

"A little, I guess." Ruth softly confessed.

"Do you remember what Sr. O'Neil said during catechism last week? You told me about it."

A second or two passed, and Ruth recalled. "Let go and let God."

"Cast your cares upon me." Sr. O'Neil's voice bellowed over the din of 14 girls, talking and laughing, while they took their seats. The morning class, a mix of juniors and seniors, settled down as the bell rang. The prim Sr. O'Neil closed the classroom door and continued. "Let go and let God." She paused, eyes narrowed. "Linda Rilott, suppose you share with us your thoughts about what that means."

Linda, a voracious reader, had her nose stuck in a book she'd checked out from the school library. Quiet laughter rippled through the others when Linda looked up and saw Sr. O'Neil staring expectantly, waiting for an answer. She put her book down. "Um, something to do with faith?" More laughter.

"Yes, that much is obvious, Linda." Sister's mouth stretched across her middle aged features, forming a thin line.

Karen Mayhorn's hand shot up. "Apart from God, we can do nothing." She said. "He created us in his image."

"Yes." Sister nodded, silently encouraging.

"So I guess we're like extensions of him, called to receive his message and do his work without question. We stop questioning and let him take over. Whatever happens, happens."

Yes, whatever happens...happens.

"Jean!" Ruth gasped when she felt the nun's lips making contact with her neck. She heard a murmured reply and the warm, wet brush of her lover's tongue against her skin. An eruption of pins and needles broke out around her ear and down her neck. Her stomach felt like it turned upside down, and then it stopped when the nun released her.

"I'll just be a moment, dear." Jean got up, leaving Ruth sitting on the edge of the bed. She took her glasses off and deposited them on the dresser top before shutting herself in the tiny bathroom. A few minutes passed, and Ruth heard the toilet flush before the door opened again. Jean thumbed the bedroom light switch, plunging the tiny and sparsely decorated space in darkness. A single broad ribbon of harsh yellow light from the bathroom illuminated the nun's slim frame.

The mattress sank a little as Jean returned to sit beside her shy and innocent student. Innocence. Certainly Ruth Cahill was innocent. Though she was 18 and by all rights a woman, her outlook was unspoiled by experience. She still viewed the world through a lens of wonder and curiosity. Her sincerity reflected in the delicate and beautiful features of her face. But above all else, Ruth trusted. She trusted Sr. Ambrose and she trusted God. Such virtues were irresistible.

Jean wrapped her arms around Ruth, embracing her, as they came together to share another kiss. Their tongues met again, brushing the other in greeting, while Sister's hands wandered. A sudden brush of cool air opened Ruth's eyes. She felt her clothes getting looser; coming off and dropping to the floor. Ruth imagined them being swallowed up by the dark shadows of the bedroom, lost to oblivion, while Jean kissed and caressed her bare skin.

"Lay back against the pillow, twerp." Jean softly teased. "Squirmy little thing, aren't you...we'll have to put a stop to that!" Her faint chuckle floated above the girl laying prone beneath her.

Jean straddled Ruth, kissing along the girl's neck past the little St. Benedict charm that hung around the delicate necklace she'd given her student the night before. She held Ruth's wrists against the mattress, pinning her there for a moment or two, before resuming her exploration.

"That feels really good!" Ruth breathed. She relished the feel of Sister's hand when it made contact with her breast. It closed over the pert little B cup mound, palm grazing her feverish flesh. Seconds later, she felt the warm wet sensation of Jean's mouth on the other breast. The lips closed around the nipple while her tongue teased and flicked against the rosy little node. "Oh, Jean!" The girl sighed. Her back arched, struggling to get herself closer to her middle aged lover. She let out a huff, almost in frustration, when Jean released her nipple, switching now to the other.

Ruth's eyes sprang open. Her vision was strained, flooded with the darkness of the room. "Ah, my sweet little girl's so wet..." Jean seethed. Ruth's cheeks flushed with heat when she felt the nun's hand between her legs. Her fingers traced along the cleft and softly stroked the ginger patch of hair modestly covering the girl's mound. "But you're a good girl." Jean muttered. "You save yourself for God...and me."

Ruth held her breath and closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of the nun's lips against the flat of her abdomen. She plotted a trail of kisses downward while her fingers deftly teased her young lover, stroking the dampened slit and spreading her amorous nectar. A soft moan erupted from Ruth's throat, encouraging Jean to do more; probe deeper.

Jean obliged.

The nun moved back, settling between the girl's legs, before moving in to the object of her desire. Jean's tongue made first contact, slowly sweeping up along the parted labia, before pressing her lips against the tangle of pubic hair. She delivered a few reverent kisses and softly commanded Ruth to spread her legs a little more. "Open up for me, Ruthie."

She did.

And for a moment or two, a thought intruded on Ruth's mind. Just...how did Sr. Jean know? How did she know how to kiss and where to touch? How did she wield her tongue so expertly against her sex, drawing her out, and pulling her back in when the moment was right? For now, Ruth banished the intrusion from her consciousness. It was better to listen to what she'd heard during catechism last week:Let go and let God.