The Quarry Girls(68)
“All rise,” he said, looking like a bad wind was blowing right through him.
The congregation stood as one.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” Father Adolph intoned.
“Amen,” we said back. Mom reached behind Junie to squeeze my hand. Had I amened too loudly? But Mom kept her eyes on the priest.
Father Adolph continued. “Welcome to all who have joined us for worship today; may you find solace and strength among your brethren. I am so grateful for your presence. We must trust in our Lord Jesus Christ and with His strength, rely on each other. Right now, in this moment, three of our families need our love desperately.” He looked up from the pulpit, his eyes sorrowful, his face drawn. “Gloria Hansen.”
We all glanced around like she might stand up. I didn’t see her among the congregation.
“Her precious daughter is with our Lord, and it’s up to us to tend Gloria here on earth.” He nodded solemnly, then continued: “The Tafts also need our love.”
Same response, all of us gawking but no Tafts to be seen.
“Their daughter, Brenda, has gone missing. If you know anything about her disappearance, please talk to Sheriff Nillson.”
This brought some gasps from the few who hadn’t heard the news, followed by a murmuring disquiet. Sheriff Nillson, who was sitting a few rows up and to the left, raised his hand, as if there were anyone here who didn’t know who he was.
“In the meanwhile, we must pray for our dear Brenda’s safe and speedy return. The same goes for Elizabeth McCain, who hasn’t been seen since she disappeared from the Northside Diner over a week ago. If you know anything, even if you don’t think it’s important, talk to Sheriff Nillson. Let us give our hearts in prayer to these missing girls and their families.”
Father Adolph bowed his head and began murmuring. We all followed suit. Someone in my row stood, probably to use the bathroom. I didn’t pay it much mind. Even though I desperately wanted Brenda back, safe and sound, I was ashamed to say that I was too busy thinking about that photo Ant was showing everyone to pray. What if my dad heard about it? Or worse, saw it?
“You know where they are!”
The shrill cry sliced through the soft church murmurs like a box cutter. We all looked up. Mom had slid past Dad into the aisle, where she was swaying and yelling at Father Adolph, her face raspberry-colored with rage.
I gasped.
“You know where those children are! I have talked to the Lord, and He says you must return them!” She turned in a slow-motion circle, her eyes ablaze. “You all know what happened to them. They had to pay the Pantown price, and every one of you bears responsibility.” She pointed at the congregants, poking the air as she spat each word. “Every. One. Of. You.”
Father Adolph was hurrying down from the pulpit, but Dad was already at Mom’s side, his hand at her waist, trying to lead her out. She was twisting against him, fighting to free herself, eyes wild, screaming for help.
Numb with horror, I could only pull Junie close, covering her ears.
Sheriff Nillson stepped toward the pulpit and faced the congregation, using his best booming, man-in-charge voice. “It’s a trying time to be a mother, no doubt about it. Father, get back to your flock. Gary will take care of his family.”
Nillson turned toward me and nodded. Go. Now. Git.
Hot with shame, I grabbed Junie and led her toward the side aisle, stumbling over others in our rush to escape. By the time we made it outside, Dad was already pulling out of the parking lot, speeding in the direction of the hospital.
“I don’t want to stop by Ant’s,” Junie said, kicking at the sand. Saint Patrick’s was only a mile from our house, but the heat doubled the distance. “I want to go home and watch TV.”
“There’s nothing good on Sunday mornings, and you know it. Besides, it’ll only take a few minutes. Ant has something of mine, and I need to get it back.”
“What does he have?”
“A picture.”
“Oh.” We walked another block in silence. There was little traffic. Most everyone was in church.
“How long do you think Mom will be gone this time?” Junie asked, breaking the quiet. She was wearing a gingham dress, ribbons in her hair. Despite the girlish clothes, Ed had been right. She looked a whole lot older than she was, sixteen at least.
“As long as it takes her to get well.”
Junie screwed up her face. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
She was quiet a little bit longer. I could see Ant’s house at the end of the street, the driveway empty.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Junie said quietly.
I’d almost forgotten she was next to me. I’d been rehearsing in my head what I was going to say to get that photo back.
“Sometimes I wish she’d never come home,” Junie finished.
My head whipped toward her. “What?”
She jutted out her chin, staring at me with a challenge in her eyes. “Mom. Sometimes I wish when she went to the hospital, she’d stay there and not come back. The house feels so much bigger without her in it. Dad whistles more. You even smile sometimes.”
I scowled. “I smile all the time.”
“You used to,” she said, blinking slowly. Her green eyes were enormous and long lashed, almost cartoonlike. “When I was real little. Like, before I could walk. I know because there’s pictures.”