Page 99 of Priestly Sins

She nods this time and looks meaningfully at the door before turning and walking down the hall. The rubber soles of her shoes whine against the waxed floors as she walks away.

I reenter the room.

“I was worried, Mommy.”

“Why, baby?”

“Because PawPaw said we need to come here and that you were hurt.” She begins to cry and Sirona looks over her head meaningfully at me, holding my gaze. A single tear runs down her cheek.

I’m sorry, she mouths.

“And I remember how sad you were when your mommy was at the hospital.” She burrows into her mother and chokes out a sob. “I was scared.”

I drop my head. This hurts to watch. My girl, afraid of losing her mom.

“Oh, this is so different.” She looks into Clara’s eyes.

“Couple of things you need to know, my precious girl. One, I’m okay. You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going anywhere.”

Clara nods and sniffles.

“Two, and this is a bit of a grown-up lesson, okay?”

Clara nods.

“Everything has a risk. Every time I cook, every time you play with Hagrid, every time Poppa gets on the treadmill, there’s a risk. Most of those things have a low risk and are worth it. Remember when I’d ask you to hold my hand and look both ways when we were in New Orleans? I wanted to make sure you were safe. Everything has a risk, baby girl. You just have to decide what’s worth it.”

“Was it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Sirona looks up at me and continues, “It was definitely worth it.”

“You aren’t scared to bake again?”

“Nope. I’ve cut myself before. It’ll happen again. But I really hope it’ll never be this bad.”

“What if I don’t want you to do it?” Clara whispers.

“We can talk about that. But I’d bet you’d miss my pink cupcakes, and my scones, and my doberge cake, and my pies, and my cookies.”

With each mention, Clara’s nod gets a little bit bigger, her eyes a little wider.

“I’m not ready to bake tomorrow, but I will be by your birthday. Think if I’m safe, it’ll be worth it?”

I sit here amazed.

Sirona has taken what has been the scariest day I can remember, fraught with the unknown, a life-and-death fight, with a terrified daughter, and taught her something I would’ve never even considered.

Clara stares a long time at Sirona’s heavily bandaged hand. Her eyes trail to the IV in her left arm and then the hospital gown. She looks at the monitors and the spiking waves on the screens that tell Sirona’s heartbeat. Finally, she looks at her eye and slowly reaches and out gently runs one finger down the bruise.

“I don’t know” she finally says and snuggles in, fighting her eyes that want to close.

* * *

Killian calls justas visiting hours are drawing to a close.

“How’s Sirona?”