Beautiful Mistake(76)

“And what happened?”

“I told him to keep away from you and your sister. He said some horrible stuff, and then he came at me with a wrench.”

“He hurt you?”

“Couple of cuts and bruises, but I was fine.”

My head was spinning. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I’m so sorry, Rachel. For everything. For lying to you all those years ago. For not going to the police and getting help sooner. For getting you hurt. If I hadn’t told you to come meet me, that animal wouldn’t have caught you packing, and he…” The pain in Caine’s voice was agonizing. “He wouldn’t have hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

As much as it upset me to see Caine distraught, I needed to be alone. I needed some time to think. It was too much to take in at once.

Talking to that priest had been a lifetime ago. I couldn’t remember all the things I’d told him, but back then, I was lost. He was the only person who made me feel safe. Finding out none of it was real made me feel…confused, angry, violated.

But worst of all, I was ashamed. I’d always regretted hiding what was going on for so long, and I felt responsible for not stopping what my sister went through sooner.

“I need to lie down.” I felt Caine looking at me, but I couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “You should go.”

He was quiet for a moment while I continued to look away. Then I heard him stand. His voice was a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m so sorry.”





Rachel



I’d wanted to come back for so many years. But that part of my life was a locked box, and I’d been afraid to open it for fear of finding things inside I couldn’t stuff back in. Yet over the last four days, since Caine had revealed so much, the call to come back here had gotten so strong I couldn’t ignore it any more.

There was no service going on, but in the last ten minutes people had started to wander in and sit in the pews near the confessional. Perhaps, they were waiting for a session to start. I sat on the other side of the church, lost in my thoughts for the better part of an hour. My attention kept drifting over to the people going in and out of the confessional door—the sinners. A woman with a young child walked in and sat down. The little girl was probably about ten years old, not much older than I was when I’d started to come on Saturdays.

After an older gentleman exited the confessional, the woman leaned over and said something to the little girl before going inside for her turn. It reminded me of when I used to come with my mom before she got sick. I closed my eyes and saw Mom and me sitting in those pews twenty years ago.

“You know how when you have a stomachache or a fever and you go to the doctor?” she said as we waited for her turn to go into the weird room.

“Yeah.”

“Well, this is where you come when something is bothering you inside here.” Mom patted her chest.

“When my chest hurts? Like when Riley had pa-noma?”

Mom laughed. “Pneumonia and no. Not your chest. What’s inside of you that makes you feel a certain way.”

I crinkled up my nose. “What’s inside of me?”

“Your soul. It’s the thing you can’t name. It’s the truth of what makes you you.”

I laughed. “I don’t understand.”

Mom smiled. “You don’t have to right now. Just remember this is a place you can come to talk to God about anything.”

“What if He’s busy?”

She leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “Then one of His angels will be listening.”

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until a tear landed on my folded hands. Opening my eyes, I looked over to where the little girl was sitting, and the pews were all empty. She was gone, and so was her mother. They’d gone without my even noticing. The open confessional door caught my attention. Looking around, I realized I was the only person left in the church. My chest had a crushing sensation inside from the old memories of my mom.

“Well, this is where you come when something is bothering you inside here.”

“What’s inside of me?”

“It’s the truth of what makes you you.”

Before I could debate it, I’d stood and headed over to the confessional.

It was surreal to step inside after all these years. I might be twenty-five now, but it was a ten-year-old girl who took a seat. Nothing had changed. The room looked the same as it had the last time I’d stepped inside. I could hear breathing on the other side of the confessional—the priest was waiting. And this time I’d seen him walk in. I knew it was actually a priest.

Eventually, after I debated walking out over and over, I took a deep breath and slid open the wooden window that covered the lattice screen.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been fifteen years since my last confession.”





Except for a few go on and tell me more comments, the priest had been relatively quiet. After a rocky start where I wasn’t sure how to begin or what to say, I miraculously babbled on for the better part of half an hour. It was the most I’d ever spoken to anyone about my mother, my sister, my guilt, or the years of struggle over being ashamed for what I’d allowed to happen.

“What brought you here today? It sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of tinking of late.” Thinking—I thought I’d heard a brogue.