Except now? I didn’t have enough money or any contacts or any leads for work that could help me support her.
But if taking food from the pantry seemed wrong, living in the women’s shelter wouldn’t feel right either.
I nodded. “I’ll go shopping after my shift…and then I’ll talk with Father Rafe.”
“You’re a good girl, Honor. A good woman.” Mom hugged me. “But you listen here. Don’t you spend all your energy on me. I ask for help when I need it, and I acknowledge that my life is my responsibility now. Your money and time is still your own.” She pulled away to study my face. “But you always did love family.”
I loved Dad.
Did that count?
God, what was wrong with me?
I said goodbye and headed inside only after I was certain Mom left. Judy waited with a box.
“No food tonight?” She practically salivated, like she couldn’t wait to tell the rest of the church of our misfortune. “Honor, you can’t go hungry.”
“We won’t.” I took the box from her and returned it to the shelves. “Cross our name off the list.”
She didn’t take the hint. “The other women and I are concerned.”
“Concerned?”
“If your mother is…relapsing.”
“She’s not.”
“But in case she is—”
“She’s clean!” I didn’t mean to shout it, but the word spat out with more venom than if I proclaimed another addiction. “She’s been sober for a year. Whatever happened in the past is over.”
“But—”
“Yes, she was an addict. Yes, she went to jail. Now she’s out, and she wants to be a part of the community. Is that a problem?”
Judy offered me that sappy head-tilt, like everyone did when they thought I was acting like a child. Naïve. But I was never innocent to Mom’s problems.
“We just want to be certain we can trust her during our functions.” Judy folded her hands. “What with the old issues and the money problems, and she signed up to help in the concession stand—”
The thought horrified me. “Do you think she’s going to steal from the concession stand?”
“No, of course not—”
“I told you she’s better. She’s worked hard. She’s a new person. She’s not the woman she was for the past sixteen years.” I gritted my teeth. “St. Cecilia’s isn’t very forgiving, is it?”
“Honor—”
“I have to go take care of some things for my mother.” I swung my purse and laptop bag over my shoulder. “Cover my shift.”
Judy paled. “Honestly, Honor, I didn’t mean anything by it—”
“Like hell.”
I slammed the door behind me and made it to the car before the anger prickled tears in my eyes. That frustration wasn’t directed at Judy or Mom.
At least, not the new Mom.
I shouldn’t have needed to defend her. Mom was clean. New. Forgiven. She started fresh—alone, without Dad to help.
Wasn’t that enough for them? Wasn’t it admirable that she tried to fit together the pieces of her shattered life?
No one liked her past, not the church, not me, but that was the darkness we weren’t supposed to forget. Those ragged, empty years had to stay there. We had to talk about them. Acknowledge them.
Accept them as something that happened.
But I wasn’t a fool. Accepting that terrible past was about as easy as confessing sins.
It gave me an idea. I checked the time. Father Raphael held Reconciliations on Wednesdays, and I could make it to the church before his hours were done.
Maybe it’d be easier that way.
I arrived at St. Cecilia’s with ten minutes to spare. No one waited in the sanctuary, and the confessional door was propped open, waiting for a penitent soul.
I prayed before I went inside, knowing full well what happened the last time I entered. I willingly trapped myself in the memory. This favor pained me, and I hoped having a solid wall and screen between us would…help?
Make it easier?
Give us distance?
I sunk onto the kneeler. The door closed, and I blinked in the darkness. Father Raphael shifted, and the light cast by his phone abruptly darkened.
“Go ahead, my child,” he murmured. “I’m listening.”
How could a man be this intimidating and yet so comforting? I nearly forgot to speak. His voice embraced me just as dangerously as his arms.
“Bless me, Father…” I crossed myself and sighed. “I…need a favor.”
“Honor?”
“Hi.”
“Hi.” His words warmed, like he was smiling.
I loved that I made him smile.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked. “There’s no one else here.”