Page 2 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

I stare at the twirling blue ribbon and silver chains, and for a moment, I’m not here. I’m in the past, when my father was still alive, and I was in another bathroom, watching blue and white ice cream flush away.

It was summer at the country club, and the air conditioning had surrendered hours ago. It felt like even the tables sweated through their white linen and the air smelled like sour perfume. Daddy sat with his tie loosened a careful half-inch, going over the same folded papers he’d been holding all afternoon. Mom swept the room, networking like a shark and keeping an eye out for important people we were meeting who would make everything better.

I was nine and didn’t care about any of it. The leather booth seat stuck to my skin, and the stupid dress I had on was too small. I’d already started puberty, but we couldn’t afford to keep up with my growth. I had my head on Daddy’s lap, a crayon in one fist, and an ice cream in the other.

Two violations of my mom’s golden rule already.

No food, no mess, and no inappropriate physical contact in public, Joan. We are not animals.

He let me anyway. While I scribbled and licked my ice cream, and he read his papers, he idly twirled a lock of my hair. God, I still remember the feel of his hand in my hair, the way he smiled down at me, eyes crinkling. Never once did he try to hurry me up, even though he’d bought the ice cream without my mother knowing.

And then Mom came back with her smile frozen in place, and her eyes doing something entirely different.

“Joan,” she hissed, “you’re too old for that.”

Daddy’s hand tensed in my hair. “For Heaven’s sake, Ava, she’s nine.”

“She’s a nine-year-old already bursting out of every dress I buy her.”

My dress was too small because she wouldn’t let me buy the sunflower dress I wanted. She said it was too gaudy, whatever that meant. It never made sense because the next day she went out and bought her own sunflower-print dress.

“Let the girl eat an ice cream for once.”

“Hi, Bob! Kids grow up so fast, don’t they?” Mom shook off her frozen smile and waved. Two seconds later, she stooped between us and whispered loud enough that everyone heard, “People are looking, George. You look utterly perverse with her head down there, clutching that sticky thing.”

My father’s thighs went rigid under my head. Something ugly and sad twisted his face, and then he suddenly stood up. Frantic. Horrified like I’d caught fire, I rolled off beneath the table and hit the carpet. My ice cream cone landed a second later. By the time I scooped it up and crawled out, sticky-fingered and red-eyed, it was worse than I realized. The important men had arrived, and Daddy was already reaching out to shake their hands, smile screwed on, oblivious to the ice cream stain on his groin.

Gasps. Choking sounds. One of the men looked at me with a smirk.

My mother grabbed my wrist before I could stand. Ice cream ran down to my elbow as she marched me to the bathroom. She didn’t say a word until the door swung shut. There was hardly any left, but she made me watch it flush down the toilet while she told me what I was, what I did to men, and what I’d keep doing if someone didn’t teach me better.

A part of me always knew that bitch had a role in my father’s death, but I never realized how much until now. When the business deal failed, she told everyone at church I distracted Daddy on purpose because I was jealous his attention was elsewhere.

My vision blurs.

Now is not the time to lose it. I just need to get through this trip to Rome, then I can fall apart.

I face my reflection, fix my wimple and veil, then stretch my lips into a beauty queen smile. I walk out of there with my head held high.

Two

Mercy

On my way out, I check on the orphans and find Tawny inside their fort, braiding hair, popping gum, and listening to Alice’s old Nina Simone records.

The thought of our old Team Leader makes my throat ache. I itch to give her a call just to hear her voice, but I know I’d just make myself miss her more.

Tawny freezes when she sees me. “Uh-oh.”

The girls gasp, wide-eyed.

“Okay.” I fold my arms. “That doesn’t seem suspicious at all.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” By the foot of the fort, Lucia subtly slides something behind her back.

My brows raise, and I turn to Tawny. “I hope that’s not contraband.”

She screws up her nose. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”