Sweetest Sin(14)

“I haven’t sung in a long time, Mom,” I said.

“I know. Not since his funeral.”

I flinched. Mom had a tendency to over-share, especially since the program encouraged her to expose, reveal, and accept all that had happened prior to her recovery. She gripped my hand. The wedding ring pressed into my knuckle. It wasn’t hers. She’d sold her jewelry to buy the pills she used to make it through his funeral.

Now she wore Dad’s ring, fitted to her finger by wrapping string around the base. The twine was dirty and tattered, but Dad’s ring shined bright and gold. I’d kept it hidden in my room until Mom was sober enough to realize that it was the last treasure of his we had and couldn’t be pawned.

“My little Honor couldn’t finish the song during his service.” She explained the situation to the group, though no one had asked about anything so personal. So painful. “But I know her daddy would have been pleased to hear her sing.”

I doubted she remembered the day. Other people must have told her what happened when I ran from the dais mid-song. Father Falconi tended to me then—cold, informal, and offering platitudes that didn’t ease the pain of watching strangers take my father’s casket away because Mom’s addiction had alienated most of our friends and family. At least Dad had us at the gravesite, even if I couldn’t finish the hymn.

“Join the choir. It’d be good for you.” Mom stroked a lock of hair behind my ear. “It’s a fresh, new start for both of us here, back home where we belong.”

“Right,” I whispered.

I gracefully ducked away as Judy cleared her throat. Again. Alyssa and Samantha took the seats next to me. The older women frowned as they crossed their legs at the knees and adjusted their skirts so just enough of their thighs showed.

“Well, it is nice to see a new face in our little group.” Judy tilted her head, though the motion was lost amid the waves of her scarlet hair. “Honor, welcome back to the St. Cecilia’s Women’s Group. Second week in a row.”

Mom beamed, wrapping me in a hug. “She is thrilled to be a permanent member.”

I nodded, accepting the well-wishing from the others in the group, from the elderly to the newly married and freshly pregnant. They thanked me for the cookies—chocolate chip and shame did pair well together.

“I do apologize,” Judy said. “We didn’t get to talk to you last time, what with that crisis with the pierogi freezer. We’ll take the opportunity to get to know you now, Honor Thomas.”

I didn’t speak.

His voice struck through the meeting room, a low hum of absolute confidence, authority, and warmth. I stiffened, drawing my gaze to the priest poised in the doorway.

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Father Raphael’s presence filled the room. The women greeted him with beaming smiles. “I know Honor is a woman of many virtues. She should share them with our parish.”

Did he do it to be cruel?

To watch me stiffen, shudder, and silence before him?

Father Raphael didn’t need the white collar or black cassock. When he spoke, he earned respect. When he listened, he honored those speaking.

And when his dark eyes narrowed upon me and the curl of his lips pressed into a secret smile, he controlled me in a way I should have feared.

Why was it so exciting?

And why couldn’t I catch my breath?

I didn’t look away from him, trapped in the intensity of his gaze—so unrelenting it’d have seemed inappropriate if it weren’t a holy man studying my every quiver. “There’s not much to talk about.”

“That’s not true.” Mom was the first to rescue me, except she popped me in the spotlight instead of allowing me a graceful escape. “Honor is an absolute dream. She’s a stellar student. Always helps her community. She’s studying to be a social worker, so she can start and manage her own charity one day. I know she’ll bring pride and faith to this parish.”

“Thanks…Mom.” I gritted my teeth. “That’s good.”

She wasn’t done yet.

“When I needed help, Honor came to my aid.”

“That’s sweet.” I squeezed her hand. “But really, we don’t have to talk about it—”

“I lost myself in a world of drugs and alcohol for sixteen years.” Mom spoke even as the women stared with wide eyes. “Sin and vice stole me. I bankrupted my family. I ruined my marriage. And I nearly lost my baby girl twice.”

I tried to stop her. “You never lost me.”

“No, literally.” She met the stunned gazes of the women’s group head-on. “My addictions were so bad, CPS nearly took my baby.”