I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(100)

My little sister would have turned ten this year, but she’ll forever remain six. Sarah will forever be a child, a child who never was given a chance to grow up. She’ll never someday find love like the kind I’ve found with Chase. Usually I can accept a sad fact such as this, but today it just makes me feel guilty.

I try to distract myself from these morbid ruminations with more work. I spend over an hour updating the bulletin, then keep busy finding other mundane tasks to occupy my time. But the guilt doesn’t fade completely; it only recedes from the forefront of my mind.

When I hear someone come into the office, I glance up from my seat at the desk to find my blue-eyed boy. “Hey.” I check the time. “It’s only eleven. Aren’t you a little early for lunch?”

When I look into Chase’s eyes, I know immediately that Father Maridale has told him about Doug’s mother’s accident. That means he is well aware that Doug is in town.

Chase walks over to my desk and kneels down next to my chair. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, but my observant boy doesn’t miss my hard swallow.

“Hey…” He pivots my chair so we’re eye level. Cupping my chin, he rubs my cheek with his thumb. “Why don’t you come with me to pick up Will? No one will care if you leave a little early today.”

Clearly, Chase doesn’t want me running into Doug while he’s gone. But I have to stay put; I have to spend time with Sarah this evening. I wish I could just tell my guy why I need to stay, but he has an obligation too—picking up his brother—and I don’t want him driving to the airport and worrying about me anymore than he already will be.

So I say, “I’ll be fine, Chase. I’ll stay here on the church grounds, and then go straight back to the apartment.”

He frowns, and I snatch up his hand. I hold it close. “I know you’re worried about me running into Doug, but I’m sure he’s staying at the hospital. Pick up Will, okay? Everything will be fine.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll be waiting for you and Will back at the house. I can’t wait to meet him.”

This brings a smile to my boy’s face. I try to lighten things up from there by talking about all the things he and I can do with Will over the next few days. I don’t know what fifteen year-old boys like, but I suggest we take his brother to see one of the summer’s big action-adventure movies. It’s based on a comic book, so that’s sure to be a plus.

Chase agrees. “That’s a great idea. My brother will love it.”

Everything is good for now, back to normal. Well, as normal as things can be under the circumstances.

Chase and I go to lunch, and afterward, on the walk back, my boy teases me a little. He’s trying to get me to smile bigger than he is at the moment. He’s so happy today, anticipating seeing his brother. I wish I could share more fully in his enthusiasm, but my heart feels burdened. Even so, my boy gets me to smile a little here and there.

When we reach the church office there’s nobody around. Chase pulls me to him and kisses me, far dirtier than he should on church property. Still, I love every second. I love it even more when my incorrigible boy whispers all the filthy things he’s planning to do to me later tonight. “You’re brother will be at the house,” I remind him.

He runs his hand down my back, cups my ass, and moves me to where I can feel he’s getting hard. “He won’t be over in your apartment, baby,” he whispers huskily into my ear.

Good point.

We kiss and grind shamelessly for the next several minutes, but then we hear a noise and stop. It turns out to be nothing, just the air conditioning coming on, but in the interest of “better safe than sorry,” we separate, but not before promising one another this will continue later.

Chase leaves and I actually feel much better, definitely distracted. As usual, my boy has done a good job of making me forget the worries of the day. But, as time passes, one by one, the worries plaguing me earlier seep back into my consciousness.

How can I forget Doug Wilson is in town, or that his mother is in the hospital and in serious condition? But what brings a lump to my throat is the thought that it’s almost time to go to the cemetery behind the church and visit with my dead little sister, the little girl who died four years ago today.




Work ends and I start my journey. I leave my purse behind in the rectory. I don’t bring Peetie either. Today it’s just me, for better or worse. The sun burns low in the sky as I walk past the iron gate and make my way to the back of the graveyard.

But when Sarah’s grave comes into view, I falter. There’s someone standing there—a woman—right in front of her marker.

I creep closer. This lady doesn’t hear my approach. Her head is down, and her hair, the color of mine, shields her face.

Oh, my God.

I know this woman. I don’t need to see her face. I’m not even close enough for her to hear a word I say, but my mouth opens of its own accord and one word tumbles forth, “Mom?”

I don’t know how she hears me—maybe there’s some unbreakable mother-daughter bond that is still there, alerting her to my presence—but my mother turns to me and our eyes meet, caramel-on-caramel. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and sway unsteadily on my feet.

My body is torn. Do I run to this woman or crumple to the ground. I kind of do both, I take a few steps in my mother’s direction, and then pitch forward. I land on my bare knees, the skirt of my dress puddling around me as my fingers dig into the cool blades of grass.