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"Maybe . . . maybe Tony has a point," Lola hesitantly ventures, the first crack in her resolve showing. "If there's a chance for Mom to have some peace . . . "
"No." Dick shakes his head vehemently. "What about our principles? Our loyalty to Dad?"
"Principles don't comfort the dying, Dick!" I shoot back, pounding a fist on the wall. A picture frame trembles, threatening to fall. "This isn't disloyalty; it’s mercy!"
"Mercy?" Jenny scoffs, her skepticism a physical barrier between us. "You call accepting a favor from Dad's killer 'mercy'?"
"Isn't it mercy to end Mom's pain?" My throat aches, and my voice is barely above a whisper now. "Dad is gone, but Mom’s here, and she's hurting."
"Your arguments change nothing," Dick stands firm, unyielding as stone. "Liam's offer is blood money, tainted and vile."
"Even if it saves a life?" I ask, the silence swelling after my question like a bruise.
"Enough!" Jenny's exclamation is sharp, slicing through the tension. "We’re not doing this. We can't."
"Then what?" I challenge them. "Watch her fade away without trying everything?"
"Everything but this," Dick asserts, his decision final.
"I think it is kind of moot saying that we all hate Liam, well, some of us, at least—”
“ . . . ohhh, give it a rest. It is insulting that you constantly say that I am soft on Liam. Let’s move on.” I say, irritated.It’s enough already.
" . . . well, I was just about to say, before I was rudely interrupted, that maybe we need guidance from someone impartial."
"Father O'Malley?" Jenny suggests, her voice weary, resigned.
"Fine." I nod, deflated but not defeated. "Let's seek Father O'Malley's counsel. Let’s see what he says."
I send Father O’Malley a text, and he immediately responds that we can go see him, and we all pile into our cars, a family united in agony, yet divided, at the crossroads of an unbearable choice.
The hush of St. Mary’s is immediate, a shroud of silence that envelops us as we shuffle down the aisle toward where Father O’Malley stands waiting for us. The air smells of beeswax and old wood, the candles at the altar casting a warm, flickering glow on the crucified Jesus, making my heart weep even more for Him than when I see Him during the day.
Dick leads our little entourage, his shoulders squared in stubborn righteousness. Jenny follows, her eyes flickering with a battle between anger and desperation. Lola clutches her purse like a lifeline, and I trail behind, my heart pounding out an erratic rhythm.
"Father," Dick starts, his voice echoing slightly in the vastness of the church, "we've come for your counsel."
"Yes, I know. Tony mentioned a little something when she texted. Sit." He gestures to the front pew, and we obey, our movements synchronized by years of Sunday service.
“How detailed was her text, Father?” Jenny asks, already sending intentional or unintentional feelers seeking an ally in Father O’Malley. He is the tiebreaker. She and Dick are firmly opposed, I am for, and Lola is kind of on the fence but can be persuaded to vote yes. She keeps wavering back and forth, but I know when the chips are down, she will do right by Mom.
Twenty minutes have gone by, and no obvious resolution is in sight. We are still locked, two for two.
"Forgiveness," Father O'Malley begins (after a storm of Dick’s fury), “is not just a spiritual act, but a psychological necessity. To forgive is to release oneself from the burden of hatred that poisons the soul.”
I watch Dick’s jaw clench, the muscle twitching in silent protest. Jenny’s hands are folded tightly in her lap, knuckles white.
"Father," Dick finds his voice again. Of all of us, he seems to be the one hit the hardest. Maybe that’s because he is the oldest,and therefore the head of our family, so to speak . . . or maybe because he is the only son, and so he assumes the role of Dad!!! I can’t tell, but he soldiers on, saying, "Our mother is dying. And Liam, the man who—"
"Is the man accused of taking your father's life," Father O'Malley finishes. "Yes, I am aware, but his offer could save your Mom's life."
"But how . . .?" Lola murmurs beside me, her voice quivering, "How can we accept help from him?"
"Sometimes, the path to healing requires us to walk through the valley of our darkest emotions,” Father O'Malley says. “Consider the good Samaritan, who aided one who would have been his enemy. Compassion transcended enmity."
"Is it compassion," Dick challenges, "To let the man who shattered our family pretend at being a savior?"
"Richard," Father O'Malley addresses him, "your pain is valid. Yet consider this: what benefit does holding onto this pain serve? Does it honor your father's memory, or does it prolong your own suffering? And what of your mother's?"
