Mary Helen studied Anne wreathed in wisps of white smoke. The only thing that looked relaxing to her was that hard little pillow bulging below Anne’s faded blue jeans.

Inwardly, she thanked God she was in history and not campus ministry. Outwardly, she said, “No thanks, Anne. Getting down would be one thing. Getting up would be something else again. I’m going outside to read.” She patted her paperback.

“Prefer spiritual reading, huh?” Anne winked.

Mary Helen checked the young nun’s face to see if she knew. She knew. “St. P.D. James,” Mary Helen said.

“The cover’s a nice touch.” Anne wriggled on her pillow.

“Late afternoon… old gray-haired nun… sitting alone with book in lap. Everyone expects a prayer book. Right?” Mary Helen asked.

“Right.”

“Then, why blow the stereotype?”

Anne’s low chuckle followed Mary Helen down the corridor. At the head of the stairs she met Sister Therese. Therese simply held her nose, rolled her eyes, and pointed toward Anne’s bedroom.

Oh, oh-a generation gap right in the convent corridor, Mary Helen thought, heading out the front door into the sun-baked campus.

The heat formed wavy lines just above the asphalt. Squinting into the sun, groups of bare-armed, barelegged students dragged themselves up the hill. Mary Helen joined them until, about two-thirds of the way up, she noticed a narrow dirt path leading off into the wooded hillside below the campus. She’d take it.

Prickly junipers lined the path. Just a few feet from the main driveway and it was like being in the woods. Mary Helen avoided stepping on two tiny pine cones that had fallen. The faint, antiseptic odor of a eucalyptus grove mingled with the pungent, Christmasy smell of Scotch pine. Several hundred feet up the path, hidden behind a clump of trees, she discovered a clearing with a lovely, carved stone bench.

Now here’s where I could use Anne’s pillow, she thought. Settling herself on the bench, she drank in the view. Before her, the tall spires of St. Ignatius framed a patch of sky. Brightly colored houses with clumps of lawn zig-zagged up the Buena Vista hills. The huge television tower atop Mount Sutro, like a giant orange-and-white mantis, gave a futuristic touch to the scene.