Page 40 of Calling on the Matchmaker
Finola had been only ten when the revered nun had asked her to come to her office after school. As Finola had stood trembling on the opposite side of the big desk, the Mother Superior had complimented her on her progress and encouraged her to consider joining the convent, telling her she had all the qualities that a Sister needed.
Later that day, when Finola relayed the Mother Superior’s suggestion to Mam and Da, they’d only shaken their heads and muttered about how the Mother Superior certainly wanted Finola to join but for reasons that had more to do with the amplitude of her dowry than the quality of her character.
Even with her parents’ skepticism, Finola hadn’t been able to put the possibility out of her mind. The seed had been plantedand had only grown over the years so that now it was ripe for harvesting—as the Mother Superior liked to say.
In fact, just before Christmas, the Mother Superior had pulled Finola aside and asked her to take the commitment more seriously, had even offered to communicate to her parents on her behalf. Finola had insisted she needed to be the one to talk to her da and mam about it and assured the Mother Superior that she would do so soon.
“I need to speak with Finola.” The Mother Superior gave the four Sisters a nod, which sent them scurrying with their baskets down the hallway to the back exit of the building. They wouldn’t have the soup from the Shanahan kitchen to take to the immigrants today. Nevertheless, they’d have the day-old bread to distribute.
As soon as the door closed behind the Sisters, the Mother Superior crossed to Finola, her hand outstretched.
Finola knelt and kissed the woman’s hand, then rose and waited with eyes cast down for the nun to start the conversation.
“I received news that your father has called on the matchmaker on your behalf.”
“Aye, he has.” Finola wasn’t surprised the Mother Superior had heard. Gossip in their Irish community spread quickly.
The revered nun was silent a moment. “Does this mean you’ve chosen not to join us after all?”
“No, Mother.” Finola met the woman’s gaze. “I am still planning to become a nun.”
“But your father has already signed agreements for your match.”
“I don’t intend to go through with it.” Even though her first efforts at pushing Riley away had failed, she wasn’t giving up.
In fact, she’d gotten the idea to foil her suitors from the Mother Superior after she’d broached the subject of enteringthe convent to her parents for a second time a couple of years ago. When she’d told the Mother Superior that her parents wished for her to get married, the wise woman had encouraged Finola to seek ways to show her parents that she was more suited to become the bride of Christ instead of the bride of a man.
She’d tried to do so ever since.
“Have you entreated with your parents about the matter?” The Mother Superior gentled her voice as though talking with a child.
“My da said this is the last time he’ll intervene, that if this suitor fails, then he’ll allow me to enter the convent.”
The Mother Superior pursed her lips. “Entering into service for God shouldn’t be a last choice because all else fails. It should be the primary priority for a heart like yours who seeks to do the will of God.”
Finola nodded. “Aye, I agree, that I do.”
“The matchmaker rarely fails in making his matches.”
“He hasn’t had to make a match for a woman like me.” Bellamy hadn’t madeanymatches before, but even if Oscar had been arranging the match, she still would have ensured she was one of his failures.
“Very well, child. See that you accomplish what you need to soon.” The Mother Superior spoke to her for several more minutes about the benefits of serving Christ—all the reasons Finola had heard a dozen times before.
After the Mother Superior’s dismissal, Finola walked away from the convent with slow and uncertain steps. She’d hoped to find solace and peace among the ladies like she normally did. Instead, her guilt only weighed heavier. Guilt at not doing a better job in keeping Enya safe. And guilt in not yet succeeding in showing her parents that she was more qualified to be a nun than a wife and mother.
Yet, how could she persist in ruining the match with Rileywhile Enya was gone? They were experiencing enough difficulty with Enya’s waywardness, and Finola didn’t want to add to their woes and heartache more than she already had.
Should she put a halt to the scheming during this crisis?
A chill crept into her hood and down her backbone, and she huddled within her thick wool coat, the trim of fur more for show than for warmth.
Aye, she wouldn’t do anything to purposefully disrupt the match for a few days until Enya was found. Instead, she’d use the time to come up with new ideas for how to scare Riley away. If he didn’t get himself killed first...
How had Riley fared last night in breaking up the gang fight? Had he ended up bruised and bloodied? Broken bones? Or worse?
She didn’t want to care what had happened to Riley. But her heart began to speed anyway, and she couldn’t control the overwhelming need to make sure he was okay.
As she neared the corner of Morgan, instead of crossing over to the next block, she turned east toward the river. She’d keep her visit short. Tell Riley she’d been in the area and was merely doing the neighborly thing in checking on him.
