moment.
“Let’s do it,” Zack said.
“When?”
“Well, how about I…” He stopped himself. He should give this responsibility to Zack.
“How about you call the school and find out when they have beginners’ classes. You can sign us up.”
“You probably think I won’t call,” Zack said with a grin.
“I hope you will,” Rory said sincerely.
“I’d really like to do this with you.”
The emotional edge to his voice must have been a little too much for Zack, because he stopped talking, turning back to watch the gliders sail off the dune. And Rory turned to his own thoughts, his own memories. Did teenagers still climb these dunes at night, he wondered, after the park was closed and it was not allowed? He remembered one particular night out here. The dunes may have shifted over the years, but that memory was planted firmly and forever in his mind.
It was one memory he would never share with his son.
Should I leave this blind open for you. Father? ” Shelly asked.
“Or is the light in your eyes?”
Sean Macy looked up from his desk. Shelly was dusting the blinds in his office, while he pretended to straighten papers, shuffling them from one side of his desk to the other. Shelly had been chattering to him, but he had no idea what she’d said until this question about the blind.
“Leave it open,” he said, although the sun was indeed in his eyes.
“It’s fine.”
“So, anyway,” Shelly said as she moved on to the next window with her duster, “I think they’d be perfect together.”
Perfect together? Who was she talking about? Whoever it was, he couldn’t think about it now.
It was Friday afternoon, almost time for him to hear confessions, but he was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn’t know how he would be able to focus on the sins of his parishioners. He was in deep trouble—with God and with his own conscience. He looked down at his hands where they rested on top of a sea of unfinished paperwork. His hands were large, well shaped and swept with delicate gold hair. They were the hands of a sinner.
“Did you know him?” Shelly asked.
“It seems like everybody knew him.
Except me, ‘cause I was too little. “
“Know who?” he asked, struggling to catch up with her one-sided conversation. He couldn’t seem to give her his attention today. Usually when he was troubled, he found Shelly’s presence a comfort. He would share his concerns with her, enjoying her sympathetic ear—and the fact that she did not easily put two and two together. He could safely share things with her that he wouldn’t dare tell another soul. Being able to speak his problems out loud was somehow cathartic and helped him think through his options. He never named names, of course, and was always careful to tell her that she must keep what he said to herself. He was confident that she did.
Shelly was nothing if not honest. Besides, the relationship was symbiotic: he was the keeper of her secrets, as well.
“Rory,” Shelly said. She turned away from the windows, grinning at him with the devil in her eye.
“I don’t think you’ve been listening to me, Father Sean,” she said.
He tried to return the grin.
“You’re right,” he admitted.
“I’m sorry.
Shelly. “
“It doesn’t matter.” Shelly sat down in the chair near the window, the blue duster resting on her knees.
“But I didn’t tell you the best part yet,” she said.
“What’s that?” He leaned back in his chair, determined now to give her his attention.
“Rory’s going to find out for me who my real mother is.” The expression on Shelly’s face was childlike. Ingenuous. Expectant. And Sean felt the floor of his office give way beneath his feet.
“I don’t understand,” he said, completely attentive now.
“Who is… do you mean Rory Taylor?”
“Yes! He wants to tell about me on his True Life Stories program.
Isn’t that cool? “
Sean played with a pen on his desk, rocking it back and forth with his big, golden sinner hands.
“And what do your sisters think about this?”
he asked.
“I don’t care what they think,” Shelly said, and Sean thought it was the first time he’d ever seen that look of stubborn rebellion on her face. He knew that the Cato sisters would not approve of Rory Taylor’s tinkering with the
