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some people belonged in the community. Others were remembered as lying
in the gutter when the parish offered a blanket and a few dollars. Mom insisted
on giving back, and the women had no idea how to accept her gratitude.
    I set the cookies
and coffee on the table, and two women stole me away. I recognized their
giggles. One perk of returning home after attending a college across the
country was the high-school reunion with old friends.
    Of course, the two
giggling women who welcomed me home weren’t the…established members of the church.
Last I saw them, they owned the cool kids’ section of the choir. Alyssa and
Samantha had stayed in the area after high school, attending the local Catholic
college in the city. Neither had changed. Alyssa dyed her hair a brighter shade
of blonde, and Samantha still didn’t fasten the top two buttons on her blouse. But
it was nice to have friends my age in the church. My generation rarely stayed
in the congregation once they were able to order a drink at the bar.
    “We really ought
to start making the coffee Irish around here.” Alyssa dumped four sugars into
her cup. “Even Jesus brought wine wherever he went.”
    Samantha giggled.
“Could you imagine these old bitties drinking on a weeknight—or at all?”
    I said nothing. It
was still too easy to remember Mom drinking at all hours of the day. I glanced
at her, hooting at her own joke with Judy and Susan. The program’s chip, the
year-long declaration of sobriety, hung around her neck.
    “You don’t often
come to these meetings, Honor,” Alyssa said. “Don’t tell me you’re bored now
that you’re home.”
    “I wish,” I said.
“This summer is killing me. I don’t have time to be bored. I’m taking three
classes to make up for the credits that didn’t transfer, and I need to do a ton
of community service. Plus I’m trying to get a couple extra hours of work in
each week. But you know how it is.”
    They didn’t. Both
Alyssa and Samantha were endowed with more than what they stuffed into their
size-too-small blouses. Their trust funds grew by the hour.
    I nibbled on a
cookie. “Besides, Mom wanted me to come. She said it’d be…fun.”
    That wasn’t quite
it. Mom asked for me to join her so that we might experience life together .
It was part of her programs and therapies, and it was a good way to get to know
my new, sober mother. I thought it’d be easier when we were in a group. Less
pressure that way. Fewer questions.
    Not as many awkward
silences.
    I didn’t trust my
friends’ eager giggles and glances to the door. “So…why are you guys helping
the woman’s group? I thought you hated most of these church functions?”
    “Oh…” Samantha bit
her lip and gave Alyssa a side-long glance. “We have our reasons.”
    “Solemn reasons,”
Alyssa agreed.
    Samantha sighed. “And
brooding.”
    “Very brooding.
And so worth the hour or two a week.”
    “Three if you
count Mass.”
    “Six or more if we
do the festival.”
    I counted with
them but had no idea what they meant. “Well, that’s a lot of church activities…”
    Alyssa twisted her
finger in a lock of spiraling blonde hair. “Oh, come on. Like you don’t know.”
    I shrugged.
    “ Daddy El ?”
    How long had I
fallen from grace? Was I missing another new phrase? It was hard enough
remembering And with your spirit , but as far as I knew, the Vatican
hadn’t changed anything else. All the lessons taught by the church were set in
stone—or papyrus—centuries ago.
    “Daddy El?” I
asked.
    Samantha rolled
her eyes. “Daddy El? Father Rapha el ? Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed
him.”
    Oh .
    I shuddered,
wishing my heart would beat steadily instead of flaring to life in a dramatic
rush every time his name was mentioned.
    “I don’t know…” I
said.
    Alyssa’s smile was
wicked and completely unapologetic. “Oh, Daddy El. He brings out the Mary
Magdalene in me. Don’t tell me you haven’t looked.”
    “I don’t…we