“Where?”“In my pocket,” I said.“In my pocket, what?”“In my pocket, Sister.”“Let me see it.”I took it out and held it low at my sid..., balled up in my fist. Sister yanked it out of my hand.“I’ll keep this, since you have no interest in it,” she said. “And if you cannot dress decently, you might as well not dress at all. Take off every stitch of your clothing.”The message went over my head. A nun would never say anything like that, so, obviously, Sister Lucretia could not possibly have said what I. She shook the world.Her beauty drew me in. Her unpredictability made me stay.That two-sided quirkiness -- that duality about her -- in anyone else would have been a reason to go. Call it quits. Run away. And fast.She could be intensely close; then instantly distant. She would ask existential questions one minute; then talk about what she was going to name her floppy cat the next. She could be bold and provocative and profane; then instantly shy. She was not only the most beautiful woman I'd. More

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