All the Stars in the Heavens Read Online Free PDF Page A

nun.”
    â€œYou won’t be working for the church, but for a family. I’m told this is a fine Catholic family, very devout. You would be a secretary to one of the daughters. She works in pictures. Her name is Loretta Young.”
    In the recesses of her memory, Alda remembered the name. Perhaps she had seen her on the cover of one of the fan magazines that the girls passed around.
    â€œI’m sending you to the family today.”
    Alda thought about her fellow novices who had left the order before her, dismissed in secret, banished at night. It was always the same. There were hushed conversations behind closed doors, followed by lonely footsteps, and the creak of the doors as the novices who remained looked out to see who was let go. The novice’s room would be empty, save a blanket folded on her cot and an empty washbasin. There was never a meeting, a discussion, or a proper farewell. The novices who remained were left to fret about the transgression that led to dismissal and agonize over their own shortcomings.
    A convent runs on two kinds of fear: fear of failing God and fear of dismissal.
    Alda would join the novices who failed, those who would never take final vows, young women who had broken the long line of the gray habit. There was mystery in the divine, but none in real life. If Alda had worried about how the rejected would fend for themselves beyond this convent in the world outside, she was about to find out.
    Alda noted that the sun was shining brightly on her dismissal day. Maybe this was a sign. She wasn’t leaving in darkness, but in the warmth of the morning sun. She fought hard not to cry, and knew better than to plead with Mother Mary Justine any further. It did little good for the girl who wanted to keep her baby, and Alda knew it would do even less for her.
    Alda stood and bowed to Mother Superior. She kissed her hand and thanked her. Mother walked Alda back to her office in silence.
    Alda entered the same small room next to Mother Superior’s office, where she had changed out of her traveling clothes and put on the work habit of the Daughters of Charity years before. This time, a satchel had been packed with a cotton slip, one set of undergarments, one pair of stockings, and a nightgown.
    A simple navy-blue cotton shirtwaist dress hung on the back of the door.
    Alda removed her habit, the veil, the wimple, the apron, the long tunic, and the petticoat. She rolled down her black wool stockings and folded them neatly. She pulled on pale gray stockings instead and slipped back into her shoes. She was allowed to keep her brown work shoes, as another pair had not been provided.
    Alda pulled the cotton slip over her head. She stepped into the blue dress. It felt flimsy after the layers of wool and work apron. She shivered.
    There was no pocket in the dress, so there was no place to put her train ticket. She looked at her work habit hanging on the wall and wept.
    There were many pockets in the habit, pockets under the apron, sewn into the bias of the tunic, to keep rosaries, thermometers, handkerchiefs, and a small missal to read while the girls slept. And now she wore a garment that didn’t have a single pocket.
    The sisters had taught Alda how to read, write, and speak English, care for expectant mothers and coach them through the birth of their babies. She had developed skills, but wondered if they had any value in the place she was going. For the first time since she could remember, Alda did not have a purpose.
    Alda dried her tears. Without saying good-bye to the novices, the nuns, or the girls in the ward she had read to the night before, Alda left Saint Elizabeth’s through the same door she had entered six years earlier.
    Alda had entered the convent to hide, hoping that a life of contemplation, prayer, and service would give her a fresh start after what she had endured in Italy. Now she was on her own again, to invent anew life once more. She had been afraid of the