29 Creative Intersections When we arrived at my town and got off the bus, we had to cross the wide main street to walk to my house five blocks away. I asked Sister Rita if she wanted to walk those five blocks or if I should get my car and come back to pick her up. “I’ll walk,” she said. I thought we were crossing the street together but turned to find that Sister Rita lagged far behind. Her face was flushed. She took tiny, clearly difficult steps. There was a bench at the bus stop on the opposite side of the street. Plan B was implemented: “Okay, Sister Rita. You sit on this bench and I will come back in a few minutes with my car.” I drove her to my house so that she could rest for a few minutes and have a glass of water. She gave me her friend Pat’s phone number and I called to tell her everything was okay and that Sister Rita would arrive at her house very shortly. We learned there was an all points bulletin out. The police were looking for Sister Rita in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. She had been missing for hours. Pat had called the convent and they sent out an alarm. No one knew what had happened and they feared for her safety. I told Sister Rita that when it was time to go home, she should call me and I would drive her; she was never again to take a bus to New Jersey. I made her promise that anytime she planned to visit her friend, she should call me. I would drive to Philadelphia and pick her up, “I forbid you to ever ride a bus to New Jersey again.” She laughed but agreed.
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