Page 86 of Priestly Sins

“I’ll die before that happens.”

I plant a small kiss right below her ear. “Now, sleep, baby. Know that I will never let anything happen to you.”

She nods and drifts off to sleep. I lie awake for hours, holding her and trying to wrap my brain around what this all means. In the wee hours, I fall into restless, dreamless sleep.

Forty

Iwake alone and the sheets are long-since cold. I find Clara in the kitchen in her purple unicorn pajamas eating cake for breakfast. Icing rings her mouth and the deer-in-the-headlights look has me fighting not to laugh. One day this will not strike me as funny, but today is not that day. I face the window to avoid her seeing the twinkle in my eyes and ask, “What’d you have for breakfast?”

“Cereal?”

“You don’t know?”

“I do know. Cereal.”

I turn and sit at the table and keeping the smile on my face, I drop my voice just a little. “My beautiful girl, you are better than a lie. I may not like decisions you make, but I’ll never be disappointed if you tell me the truth, okay?”

She drops her eyes a little, but says, “Okay, Poppa.”

“Clara?”

Her little head pops up, her wild hair everywhere. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Poppa!”

During this exchange I hear the back door open and close ever so quietly. Quiet footsteps sound near what has become the guest room.

“You might want to go wash your face and hide the evidence,” I whisper conspiratorially and wink. There’s no way her mom won’t know. Sugar is her cocaine. Besides, the cake, usually perfectly sliced, is mangled and lopsided. And that’s not the half of it. The kitchen is a wreck, but still.

Clara puts her one finger over her mouth and her eyes bug out as she tiptoes in footed pajamas to the sink and then flies down the hall. The sugar is coming!

I transfer the dishes to the dishwasher and wipe down the counters and the table.

I’m killing time, I know. I just know she’s pissed. I did it; her mom was killed because of me. Not by choice or by contract, but just being myself. I’m responsible.

And I can’t lose her.

After rinsing out the sink and starting the coffee, finding nothing else I can do in the kitchen, I wander to what was once Sirona’s room before she moved into the master at New Year’s. I knock lightly and wait.

Nothing.

Again, I knock.

I’m met with silence and, having nothing to say that I haven’t already, I head to the bedroom and get dressed. Today’s going to be a chilly day.

Around lunch the bedroom door is still closed. I text Sirona.

Me:Lunch is ready.

No response

Me:Baby. Need to know you’re okay.

Still nothing.

Me:Don’t make me use the big guns.