Sweetest Sin(65)

“Yeah…” Alyssa snorted. “We’re on Mary The Dawn. What’s gotten into you?”

Good question.

The choir groaned. After I sang another three ear-piercing mistakes, the cell-phones whipped out and everyone whined for a break. Deacon Smith finally relented, giving us fifteen to banished whatever it was that keyed us so out of tune.

It was me.

Alyssa and Samantha collapsed in the pews, but they waved me over with a smirk.

“Part of me almost wants to do badly at the festival,” Alyssa said. “Just so I could repent with Daddy El in private.”

Samantha shook her head. “Not me. Daddy El’s been a bit too grumpy lately. I’d rather be the one who makes him smile again. I hate to disappoint him.”

I did too. And I feared I had in the best possible way.

“Why are you so quiet?” Alyssa offered me a licorice whip from her bag of snacks. I took it, but I forgot to take a bite. “You’ve been weird all night.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just running myself ragged.”

“No wonder. You’re acting like a little Mary. Save some good works for the rest of us.”

No faith or works would save me now. “Just trying to stay busy.”

Samantha dug through the snacks until she found the Skittles. “Even God rested on the seventh day.”

But I hated to think what would happen if I finally rested, let my guard down, realized the truth of what I’d done.

“Hey…” Samantha tossed a Skittle at me. It thunked off my forehead. “Everything okay?”

I frowned and bent to pick up the candy before Father Raphael had a fit that we were eating in the sanctuary. “I’m fine.”

My friends shared a worrisome glance. Alyssa leaned close, her voice low.

“Is this about your Mom?”

I stiffened. Samantha touched my arm.

What was going on?

“What about my mom?” I asked.

“You know…” Alyssa shrugged.

I didn’t.

“In the bathroom?” she asked. “After the women’s group meeting?”

I slowly shook my head. Samantha smacked Alyssa’s arm, and they both silenced.

No, no, no. They weren’t keeping this from me. My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was nothing.” Alyssa faked touching-up her perfect ponytail.

Samantha downed a fistful of Skittles to avoid talking. “Yeah. It was probably just an aspirin.”

Now I did panic. My jaw tensed so much it popped, and I clutched the pew with trembling fingers.

“What are you talking about?”

Samantha twisted her fingers in her skirt—too inappropriate for the church and entirely too short for anything that would tempt Father Raphael. “Okay. Some of the women said they saw your mom take a pill in the bathroom after the women’s meeting.”

Oh God.

She rambled a little too fast. “But they didn’t know what it was. And your mom scooted out of there pretty quick once the others came in.”

My stomach pitted. “Have they…told anyone?”

Alyssa looked sheepish. “It’s nothing. Things have been pretty boring around here, and you know how these old ladies get. It was just gossip.”

Gossip that would turn us homeless.

The help we received from the charities were only offered to those who were clean. Recovering. If Mom had started using again…

But she wasn’t.

I’d have known. I’d have seen it. Heard it in the slur of her speech. She still felt like the clean and sober stranger in our home, not the lazy and disjointed mother I remembered.

I hoped.

I hadn’t been paying that close of attention. And I had been busy, running back and forth between classes and meetings and work and volunteering. I was hardly at home, even though I’d specifically returned to help her.

And I hadn’t.

I’d been home for two months, and I hadn’t done a blessed thing for her besides cleaning the apartment, organizing the bills, and begging favors from others so I wouldn’t have to help her myself.

I clutched my phone and stood. “I…I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” Alyssa said. “I’m sorry. Really. It was probably nothing.”

Or it might have been something.

I escaped the sanctuary, and my heels clipped against the stone. I didn’t escape through the front of the church. I darted out the side entrance, into the back of St. Cecilia’s second lot. The corner property was large enough for picnics and events—or for an entire festival that was coming too fast.

I followed the path to the shrine surrounded by meticulously trimmed roses blossoming around a bench. The Mary garden was a small section of earth tended for the Holy Mother, where the remnants of the communion   wine was often poured after Mass.