Sister Bernarda had caught a ride with Frances an hour earlier and was waiting for her in the parlor, hoping to hear some positive news. Sister Agatha shook her head in response to her unspoken question, noting at a glance that she hadn’t slept a wink either. Sister Agatha stopped by the provisory, the pantry, and offered Pax a bowl of kibble. The dog took a few bites, then lay down, opting for sleep instead. Breakfast was in the refectory, the monastery’s dining room. It was a simple meal—mostly bread, today toasted and with homemade apple butter—plus tea or coffee. A somber mood had settled over everyone. Sister Ignatius was staring at the wall, where a large wooden cross had been hung over a small table that held a skull. Its purpose was to remind the sisters of the shortness of earthly life. Looking over at Sister Ignatius’s plate, Sister Agatha couldn’t help but notice that it was empty. Although fasts were common here, she hated to see the older nuns follow that practice.
