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“I have to go.” My announcement is abrupt, but I don’t care. I climb to my feet.
“Wait.” Noah scrambles to stand, too, reaches out, touches my arm. “Please don’t go. Or—or we can both go. We can go to my place. I want to . . .” He lowers his voice a notch. “Help make you forget.”
Forget what? For a heart-stopping moment, I think he means his father—that he wants to help me forgethim. But then he says, “Your mom. I heard. I’m really sorry.”
Like simmering water coming to an angry boil, my insides clench, threatening to erupt with sudden rage. He acted like he didn’t know. He sat here beside me, cool as a freaking cucumber, letting me ask him abouthisfather,hisfamily, letting me think he hadn’t heard the news, that he was pleased to see me back in town—but really, he knew. I yank away from him, turn to go.
“Elizabeth.” His voice is a bark, an order.
It makes me go still. Takes me back to a dim motel room, the rough carpetbeneath my knees—
Noah’s arms wrap around me, crush me against him, holding me tight.
I should scream at him. Should knee him in the balls and stalk out of here.
Instead, I melt.
I breathe.
And I give in and let a man comfort me for the first time in twenty years.
CHAPTER
31
You look good.” I smile. It’s sad that it’s probably the first time I’ve given my mother a compliment in . . . Well, maybe it’s the first one ever. And she’s lying in a casket for it. Dead. Even sadder is that it might also be the first time our conversation doesn’t end in an argument. Unexpected tears fill my eyes, and I sniffle them back.
It feels like I should say a prayer. She’d like that. I probably wouldn’t have given that to her when she was alive, but somehow it feels okay to do now. Maybe it’s because I’m doing it on my terms; I’m not being forced. My eyes drop to the floor in front of the casket. There’s a kneeler, a cushioned block of wood to rest your knees. But hell will freeze over before I’m ever in that position again.Sorry, Mom.I bow my head, close my eyes, and whisper the Hail Mary.
A few moments later, there’s a light knock at the door. Kenny Chapman steps into the viewing room.
“How is everything?” he asks. “Is there anything you’d like changed before visiting hours begin?”
“No. They did a really good job on her hair and makeup. She looks pretty. At peace.”
“Excellent.” He nods. “An early guest has arrived, as well as a florist with a delivery, but we still have a couple of minutes, so I’ll let you have this time with yourmother alone.”
I look over at Mom, take a deep breath, and shake my head. “It’s okay. You can let them in. I’m done.”
“Very well.”
A florist carries in a big white cross made of roses. I’m still standing at the casket, watching them set it up, when Father Preston walks up and joins me.Where did Kenny Chapman go? Is it too late to change my mind and say I’d rather be alone?
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Elizabeth. Your mother was a wonderful woman, a devout member of Saint Matthew’s.”
I nod, manage to mumble a thank-you. I’m going to need to get better at this if I’m going to survive today.
Father Preston turns and faces me head-on. “I came by to visit Theresa the other morning. We had a long talk, and I promised her I would speak to you.”
“About what?”
“Your mother would really like you to attend confession.”
I feel my heart skip a beat. “Why? What did she tell you?”
“She expressed concern about your relationship with Christ. Many times when people veer away from their faith, it’s because our bond with God is broken by our sins. Confession allows us to seek true forgiveness and repair that connection.” He searches my face. “Everyone sins. Big or small. Even I go to confession, Elizabeth.”
“Really? And what do you have to confess?”