Free Black Apple by Joan Crate Page B

turned to months without word from the Mother House, Sister Joan had grown increasingly optimistic that her role of “interim administrator,” as she had proclaimed herself, would be elevated to that of “superior,” in theory, a position under the leadership of Father David, but in practice, the unchallenged head of the school. It was a wish she had not failed to convey to her good friend and co-administrator, Sister Grace . It was Grace’s knowledge of this ambition, she suspected, as much as her later promotion, that Sister Joan was never able to forgive.
    Mother Grace had taken her appointment as superior at St. Mark’s to be a sign from God; He had chosen her for this position, and she was eager finally to confront the weighty destiny she had believed to be hers since she took her vows. In fact, she now realized, she had been both blind and prideful.
    Things had gone well at first. After just one month in her new position, she had not only prevailed upon Father Alphonses to bring volunteer workers from both Hilltop and the Reserve to the school, but she had elicited the promise of extra funding from the Oblates, having written a persuasive letter on Father David’s behalf. From that point on, Father David—or Father Damien, should David be unavailable—had only to sign her letters and, at times, practise a modicum of conviviality when parishioners arrived with hammers and wood. Several repairs, long overdue, were made or scheduled at St. Mark’s, and morale, with the exception of Sister Joan’s, improved greatly. Mother Grace then turned her hand to systemizing the administration, drawing up and balancing a feasible budget, and taking over the ordering of supplies.
    “Don’t stir the pot if it’s already boiling,” she had overheard Father David mutter to Father Damien. “Let Gracie do all the work if she’s so hell-bent on it.” Mais oui , that had been just fine with her.
    At the start of the next school year, she had been determined to institute a new, more liberal visiting practice. Every Sunday, the girls’ parents would be allowed at St. Mark’s for Mass. Afterwards, they could visit their children in one of two rooms, a small one off the school’s entrance for the little girls and a classroom upstairs for the older ones. Parents with both first-year and older students would be allowed to take the younger ones with them to the room set aside for older girls.
    Father David had complained that such a practice was in direct opposition to the government of Canada’s policy of assimilation, but she had argued passionately. “How can we reach the children if we do not also encourage enlightenment in their parents?” She had been quite pleased with her oratory in those days. That was before it came back to bite her, as Sister Margaret would put it.
    “Our job is not done when our students leave this school. We must continue to reach out to all the Indian race, to instruct and guide on an ongoing basis,” she had argued.
    And it had worked. Father David, with Father Damien following his lead, had grudgingly withdrawn his objections. Even dear Father Patrick had expressed his admiration for her “progressive” visiting policy, and a few other Catholic residential schools had followed her course of action, including, not a year later, the new St. Gerard’s School for Boys, to the south. To this day, parents still complained about their sons and daughters having to attend different schools, but it was for the best, Mother Grace was convinced. St. Mark’s had become overcrowded with the influx of students from Antelope Hills after that school burned down and, besides, boys distracted girls from their studies.
    She had been optimistic. Mother Paul Pius and most of the sisters, including her, had thought that the opening of St. Gerard’s would solve most of their problems. And it might have, if the staffing had been handled properly. Lifting her glasses, she pressed a finger and thumb against her