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“Angela, what is it? Is everything okay?” Sister Pip inquired softly.
Kindness was hard to deal with when one was in a vulnerable state. At least, that had always been Angela’s experience. Which was why, instead of lying and saying everything was peachy, she burst into tears instead.
“No. It’s really not,” she practically wailed. What followed were great big heaving sobs. It wasn’t her proudest moment, given all the snot that accompanied the tears. Sister Philomena sat quietly, unbowed by the storm of emotions. She was a solid presence, an anchor for Angela to tether herself to so she didn’t get lost in the miasma of her past.
“I’m sorry,” Angela said once she quietened. “I’ve never been a graceful crier.” She accepted a Kleenex from Sister Pip appreciatively.
Sister Pip smiled softly. “On the contrary. Crying is always full of grace.”
Angela shook her head, grateful for the wonderful, wise woman beside her. “Thank you.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” Sister Pip asked.
Angela shook her head. “Not really.” She looked around, feeling a little lost. She spotted Morrigan where she’d left her. She was looking at the ground, apparently having found something very interesting there. Morrigan was uncomfortable with displays of emotion, unless it was the result of pain she had personally inflicted. Then she loved it. Angela was relieved when the knowledge caused her lips to twitch. She faced her elderly friend once more. “But I guess that’s why I’m here.”
Sister Pip’s eyes searched Angela’s face. “Trouble with Roman?”
“No. Yes.” Angela groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want there to be. At least, I don’t think I do. But then, maybe I should want there to be trouble. I mean, what does that say about me if I don’t care? That I’m a pushover? That I’m oblivious?” She gripped her hair, realizing belatedly that it was a hell of a mess. “But then, what does it say about me if I do care? That I don’t trust him? That I blame him for something he had nothing to do with? I’m so confused. And it just hurts so bad.”
“Breathe,” Sister Pip reminded her. “That’s it. Now, I managed to follow most of that. And I understand the gist of your dilemma. But without context...” She smiled, patting Angela’s arm. “Start at the beginning, dear.”
Angela blanched, knowing she must sound like a crazy woman. But she refused to be embarrassed. Besides, it was hard to feel embarrassed or ashamed, or even shy around the elderly nun. Sister Pip embraced anything and everything in her way. It was a wonderful, yet unique, quality to have. And Angela had never been so grateful for the other woman’s genuine friendship.
Angela took a moment to gather her thoughts. Her therapist and Sister Philomena were the only people on the planet she had ever confided in until Roman. Which meant two simple words were enough to give context. “The Foreman...”
Sister Pip’s expression changed in an instant. From gentle and nurturing to cold and angry. Angela wondered, not for the first time, who exactly the nun had been before she turned to God.
Sister Pip cleared her throat, her expression returning to normal. “What about him?”
“Roman knows him,” Angela revealed. “He’s known him for years. He works with him.”
The Sister’s mouth opened in shock. A hand, lined and spotted with age, flew to her heart and stayed there. “Roman is working with that vile man? No. That can’t be right.”
“But it is right. The Foreman, he was at Omertà this morning. In Roman’s office. He walked past me, so close I could have reached out and touched him.” Her breaths started coming hard and fast, and she knew she was dangerously close to a panic attack.
“That’s enough of that,” Sister Pip said sternly. “You breathe now. Take your time and breathe. In and out. That’s it.”
Angela followed the instructions of the no-nonsense nun until her body got the memo that she wasn’t in imminent danger. “I’m sorry.”
Sister Pip huffed. “If you really want to make me mad, keep saying silly things.”
Angela laughed a little, wiping some beads of sweat from her forehead where they had popped up in her stress. “You’re a hard-ass, aren’t you?”
“Of course, dear,” Sister Pip confirmed. “Why do you think Mother Superior stationed me here? Who else could hold their own in this neighborhood if not a hard-ass?”
Angela shook her head and smiled. “I’m glad. I’m glad it’s you here. And I’m glad that I met you.”
Sister Pip patted Angela on the cheek. “You’re feeling sentimental. I don’t blame you. I’m glad I met you too. Now, I need you to explain more about the Foreman and Roman. Roman knows him?”
Angela forced herself to get back on track. “Yes. But not as the Foreman. He knows him as Godfrey. A businessman that comes to town every year or so and hires out Roman’s protection services while he’s in town. Roman says he didn’t know what he was into. Nor his real name.”
Sister Pip hummed thoughtfully. “And you don’t believe him?”
“I do believe him. At least, I want to. It just... hurts,” she confessed. “It hurts knowing the most important person in my life has been helping my worst nightmare.”
“I would say that’s a healthy reaction to such news,” Sister Pip offered.
Angela shrugged listlessly, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline wore off. “Probably. You know, when I fell in love with Roman, I was sure that I accepted him for who he really was. His past, his present, his future—I told myself, and I told him—that none of it mattered as long as I was with him. Yet, here I am, questioning him—questioning us—within months of our commitment.”
