Page 45 of The Holiday

I noticed that her eyes changed when she talked like this. “But what led you to actually join an order of nuns?”

“I pitched in on a food drive in one of the poorest neighborhoods I’d ever seen. People looked tired, like they’d worked all day and come home to still find their cupboards empty. And I dug into the research and found that the cost of living had risen so drastically in America over these past few decades that the lowest wage earners weren’t able to keep up. Minimum wage increases weren’t even coming close to closing the gap.” Tilly tore small strips off a paper napkin as she talked. “So I started volunteering, and I realized that God was everywhere: He was in every detail. At least for me,” she added quickly. “I understand and am fully aware that it’s a wholly personal experience, finding religion. I don’t push it on anybody.”

“You look nothing like a traditional nun,” I pointed out. She wore a t-shirt that day and a pair of cut-off jeans with beat-up red Converse.

“Yeah, that’s the idea. My work takes me into schools, neighborhoods, and communities where people are living real lives. Walking around in a wimple and holding up a cross would make me look like I was putting on a play. People need real help, not frippery and artifice. No offense to my wimple-wearing sisters,” she said with a smile.

“It’s a progressive approach,” I said, pushing for more.

“It is. And I’m a progressive nun. I wear what I want, I support the causes I believe in, like reproductive rights for women, and, as you know, I’m married to a woman. The sisters in my order are extremely forward-thinking, and we understand that God is interested in our hearts, and in our good work. He’s not interested in whether I swear occasionally, or if I go home at night to a husband or a wife.”

“That makes perfect sense to me, as someone who is fairly loose and untethered to any religion,” I said. “But do you encounter a lot of disbelievers? People who think that you can’t possibly be a real nun?”

“Sure. But that’s fine. I’m very secure in who I am, and very committed to what I do.”

It was all amazing to me: Tilly’s transformation from tough teen to unselfconscious nun; the way she’d committed her entire life to helping others; and the ease with which she presented herself to the world these days, without armor or pretense.

“I want to be of service in this life,” Tilly said, stirring her rapidly melting ice around with a straw. “My grandfather took me in, no questions asked, and raised me with love in a place where I was completely safe. Not everyone has that.” Her eyes shifted and she looked towards the water at the end of the street, where a cluster of smallish boats bobbed at the dock. “My mother couldn’t care for me, and I had someone who could. I want to make sure everyone I meet feels like they have someone who cares for them, whether it’s family, me, or God. That’s important work.”

I couldn’t argue with that, nor did I want to. “Ruby would be proud,” I offered instead, knowing how fond my wife had been of this girl—now woman.

Again, a huge smile broke across Tilly’s face. “Oh, Ruby,” she said. “Wow.” It took her a minute to recompose herself, and she pushed the frizzy loose hairs away from her forehead with one hand. “She saw me. That lady really saw me for who I was. I can’t tell you how important she was in my life.”

This touched me in a way that not a lot of things do. To think that Ruby was able to get through to a girl as tough as Tilly had been as a teenager kind of overwhelmed me. "What did she do, if you don't mind me asking?"

Tilly blew out a breath that made her cheeks puff out. "Wow. A million things, I guess." She sat back in her chair, putting one of her ankles on the opposite knee. "She didn't let me take myself too seriously, which I always admired. Lots of adults would have seen me coming with my dark scowl and my bad attitude and turned the other way. But Ruby always seemed like she was trying not to laugh. She was in on the joke, you know?"

I did know. It was one of the best things about Ruby, in my opinion, the way she could look at anyone and see them for who they truly were. I'd seen her do it on numerous occasions. "I loved that about her, too."

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't make it easy to get to know me, and it was even more off-putting to people--particularly older ones--to just be up front about my preference for women. But even that didn't make Ruby flinch."

"No, it wouldn't have."

"I threw a lot at her to see what might push her away--that was the hurt little girl in me," she added, staring me in the eye. "My mom left, and so I assumed everyone else would throw me away, too. I wanted to give them enough ammo to do it and prove me right, so I always opened with the worst stuff I could: I'm a lesbian, I love horror movies, I read books about serial killers, I'm totally sarcastic. Seems like kid stuff now," she said with a laugh. "But at the time it really did work to keep people at arm's length."

"Except Ruby."

"Except Ruby." She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, holding them like that for a long moment before opening them again. When she did, there were tears glistening on her eyelashes. "I had my heart broken one time, by a girl I met online. I took a boat to Destin to meet her, and it was--ugh. I can't even talk about it, but suffice it to say that I was humiliated. I came back here in tears, and Ruby was in the bookstore. I stumbled up from the dock and knocked on the door, and she was there for me--one thousand percent."

"What did she do?"

"She let me in and made me a cup of tea. It was November. Raining. Almost dark out. She turned off the lights in the shop, and we sat in the chairs in the very back room with just a couple of lamps on as the rain pounded against the windows."

"How old were you?"

"Nineteen. But I probably acted like a fourteen-year-old. I feel like I matured so slowly--maybe it was living here with so few romantic prospects, or maybe it was the time I grew up in, but I was not savvy at all when it came to love or life." She shook her head, remembering. "Anyhow, we sat inside the shop and I cried. And then she told me how her husband broke her heart, and she cried too."

"I never knew about this."

"Of course not," Tilly scoffed. "Women share lots of moments like this and we never tell a soul. In that moment, we were just two girls with broken hearts who needed someone to listen. But then she told me some funny stories and we both laughed, and for that one moment, I tried to imagine that she was my mom--I wanted to be as lucky as Harlow and Athena." She looked out at the road, giving a distracted smile to someone passing by on a golf cart. "Do you think they knew how lucky they were to have Ruby as a mom?"

"I do," I said without reservation. "I know for a fact that they appreciated her as much as she deserved to be appreciated."

"That's good." Tilly nodded. "That's good to hear."

We sat there for a minute or two, and the sun had shifted enough that my back was now covered by the warmth of the sunlight. "If you could tell Ruby something now," I asked, "what would it be?"

"Oh." Tilly seemed surprised. "Easy: I would tell her that I finally believe in myself as much as she believed in me. She was always telling me that I was destined for life out in the big, wide world, and that she could see the good in me--things I probably snorted and rolled my eyes at as a teenager--and I finally do see what she saw. I would also thank her for accepting me exactly how I was, because there weren't many people in my life who didn't want me to change to fit into their version of the world. But Ruby was never like that, and I'd love to thank her for that."

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