New Habit - Chapter 2 - PG

[Penina Spinka]

NEW HABIT – Chapter 2

When Mother Superior walked into the 9th Grade Art class at Saint Agnes High School, the uniformed students rose as one to curtsey and bow. It was only then that they noticed the dignified Bishop Counting in one of his less formal robes of office. His appearance required another polite show of respect. “I believe you all know Father Counting,” said Mother Superior. “He has graciously visited our class with a special guest all the way from Paris, France. Bishop Counting, thank you for coming. The class is ready for you.”

Mother Superior stepped aside and the older man replaced her at the podium. “Your regular art teacher, Sister Therese, will save her lesson for another day. Sister Anne Marie, who took her vows in Paris, is in Los Angeles for a short visit. Her father was curator at the Lourve. I’m sure you are all familiar with the greatest museum of Paris. It holds art and furniture from the best-known artists and periods of European, Middle Eastern and Egyptian History. Please welcome Sister Anne Marie.”

Coraline had been standing behind him, completely hidden from most of the students during the beginning of her introduction. She peeked around him and glanced at the classroom, pleased to see photos of artwork and cathedrals, most spectacularly Notre Dame, on the walls. The students were still standing. The girls’ uniform dresses were blue checks with formal white apron. The boys wore stiff dark slacks and white, long sleeved shirts with blue ties. How she had hated those ugly nuns that were brought to the palace to teach the young people discipline and their catechism when she was this age. Nearly one hundred and fifty years later, most of the nuns looked the same. At least, boys and girls were allowed to attend together. Nuns’ habits hadn’t changed much since then, and hers was itchy. She made a point of ignoring it while she searched for the youth she expected to see, young Mick St. John.

When she stepped out from behind the Mother Superior and Armand, she gave the class her most captivating smile. She noticed happily that Mick’s mouth hung open. Even without makeup her natural beauty made an impression. He couldn’t take his eyes off her until the girl at his side gave him what was supposed to be a secret kick with her toe that shouldn’t have been seen behind their joined desks. “Please, all of you, take your seats,” she said.

In the general sounds of wooden chairs being moved and scraped across wooden floors, a human wouldn’t have heard a whisper, but that didn’t stop Coraline. “Close your mouth,” hissed Ronnette. “She sees you.”

“But, nuns are supposed to be ugly. She’s gorgeous,” he whispered, unable to stop the words. Ronnette glared at him. At least he did close his mouth.

Between the photographs and her memories, Coraline managed to get through the first day. She told the students that music was a part of art, and both were a form of prayer. She would give each of them a chance to either make her a picture to critique or play for her. She already knew Mick had been practicing the trumpet.

It was several days later when he had a private interview with the beautiful French nun. Ray and Lila said she showed little interest in their drawings, both of them based on the sights of Paris pictured in their art books. “Why do you care what she thinks of your trumpet playing?” Ray asked.

“I don’t know,” Mick responded. “It doesn’t really matter, I guess.”

“I saw her yesterday and I don’t think she’s really interested in us,” said Ronnette. “If you fall over your feet when you walk into her interview, she’s going to laugh at you. She’s a nun. She only thinks about Heaven and getting the boys to become priests. Wipe that stupid look off your face.”

Mick held his trumpet under his arm when he walked into the Bishop’s study, temporarily being used for Sister Anne Marie’s private interviews with the students. She looked up from the pile of drawings on the desk and gave him a welcoming smile. Regardless of Ronnette’s warning, Coraline’s sexual allure was so intense; it made his knees feel wobbly. He reached for a corner of the nun’s desk for support.

The nun didn’t laugh, but she reached for his instrument and asked him to take a seat. “A trumpet?” she asked, looking at it. “Well, they say the Archangel Gabriel plays the trumpet. Have you ever thought of going into seminary?”

“Seminary?” Although Mick’s voice had pretty much finished changing, it squeaked. “Be a priest? Me?”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t think I’d like it. I want to have a wife, and lots of children some day. We’ll send them all here,” he said as if to compensate for not becoming a priest.

It was half of the answer she hoped for. “The Church would appreciate that too. Not everyone is cut out to be a priest.” said Sister Anne Marie. She could make sure he got a wife, but a family would be difficult. Perhaps she could work a kid or two into her plans if he wanted them so much. She smiled at the thought of a vampire family. “You can still do good work,” she said. “If you can play holy music, you’ll do well enough. Let me hear something.” She handed the trumpet back to him.

He took it, still looking between his instrument and the face of the nun, while he wondered what to play. “You probably never heard of them, but I like Armstrong on trumpet and Goodman on clarinet. They sound like heaven to me. Have you ever heard of swing over there in Paris? Jazz? Blues?” She looked scandalized at his question, and he blushed.

“It’s popular in Paris too. Before I became a nun, I heard some of it,” she said, “but I want to hear about you like. Play for me, but not any of that Devil’s music.” He put the mouthpiece to his lips and began to play a piece he liked.
He did a bit of “As the Angels Sing,” thinking it was a good choice for a nun, but he jazzed it up the way Goodman did. She listened for a while. He wasn’t bad; in fact he showed promise. When he stopped, she stood up. “It’s a good melody, but with the flourishes, I don’t know,” she said sweetly. “Such sounds might put impure thoughts into people’s heads. It might make them think of bright lights, dancing, touching each other.”

“Huh?”

“Listen,” she said and picked up the guitar that rested on the couch behind her. She lifted the strap over her head and adjusted the pick to her finger. He sank back while she played, lifting her beautiful voice to a French hymn. “That’s holy music,” she said when she finished. “Think about learning to play the guitar. If you aren’t planning to go into seminary, what are your plans for the future, Mr. St. John? Did you expect to play in a band?” At his slight nod, she added, “Not in a jazz club, I hope.”

Mick sat up straighter. He was tired of coming across as a stricken schoolboy even if that is what he was. “Maybe for a while,” he answered, “but I’d like go to medical school some day if my family can afford it,” he said. “I’ve always been interested in how things work. You know – bodily organs.” That came out wrong and he began to blush again. “I meant kidneys and lungs when I said organs. You understand?” Why was he blushing? Why did everything he said become something else? It was as though she was pulling his strings and he was a marionette, yet she’d never said an impure word. She probably never had an impure thought. “You see, I’m interested in treating sick people by studying things like, well, blood. I read the other day that Karl Landsteiner just discovered there are different blood types and that can make transfusions work much better.” Talking about blood was safe, better than mentioning organs.

Sister Ann Marie’s face lightened. “What an excellent idea! It seems you’re a boy with many interests. I hope you will succeed.” With that, she dismissed him with a warm smile that made his heart beat faster.

Before he left for home that day, he told Ronnette, Ray and Lila he was staying behind for a while. He wanted to swim in the pool. What he really wanted to do was cool down after the way Sister Anne Marie left him feeling.

He was floating in the semi dark of the basement pool when he heard a splash and looked around. He hadn’t heard the door open and there didn’t seem to be anyone else there. He swam a few laps, then turned onto his back again, trying to clear his mind. The dim light bulbs made the water appear green. Their reflections swayed on the ripples left by his exertions. “Shh,” said a sweet voice.

“Who’s there?”

“No one. You’re dreaming.”

The nun was stunningly naked. Water dripped from her hair like a mermaid. Were there mermaids? Strong arms turned him to her and caressed his cheeks and his limbs. He felt and saw perfect breasts, so beautiful, so soft, but cold. He saw pale legs no statue of Venus could match, and the soft triangle of dark hair above them. The image or dream, whatever it was, leaned against him. His breath came harder, but she didn’t seem to breath at all. “You can’t be real,” he protested, “but I wish you were.”

“Not yet. Someday,” came the sweet voice of Sister Anne Marie.

He closed his eyes, wondering what had become of the real world, but deciding he liked this one better. When he opened them again, she was gone.

[bluedahlia3]

Penina! *blue runs and give hugs* I didn't know you were posting here! Good news...I'll have to go and poke into your office. Coraline as a nun? Well she is seducing the young Mick, thats about right. The scene in the pool is lovely. Very well done. And her disregard for everybody else, typical. Good job at catching Cora.

[ash]

that woman....