I felt lines of confusion dig into my brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Ed and Ant stopped by the deli counter after you left. Ant showed me the photo of you.” His glance shot up again, pleading, then angry. “You coulda told me you and him were dating.”
My hand flew to my throat, and I glanced up at the cross. I might not love going to church, but I was a Pantowner. I’d been raised with a healthy fear of God. I knew we should not be talking about that snapshot on holy ground.
“I’m not. We’re not. It was a stupid night.” My shame flipped to rage at Ant. Too bad Claude was here instead. “What business is it of yours anyhow, huh?”
His jaw dropped like I’d slapped him. “I guess it isn’t,” he said, heading into church.
I stood there for a few beats, somewhere between crying and screaming. I couldn’t believe Ant had shown Claude that picture. It shouldn’t even matter, not with Maureen dead and Brenda missing, and it didn’t, not anything like those losses did, but it stung at a time when I didn’t have room for more hurt. I shuffled back under the tree next to Mom and Junie, wondering who else here had seen me in my bra, crying, in that dumb-bunny photo I let Ant take.
After a few minutes, Dad waved us over and we followed him into church.
“What did the reporters want to know?” Mom asked him.
She’d played two rounds of Life with us in that quivering cavity of twilight time, chatted with Junie about hairstyles and me about work, asked Dad about his cases. It felt like she soul-shined all of us, just like the old days, but I was wary. With Mom, what went up must come down, and it was a mystery what exact combination would make life too much for her.
It’s time for a vacation, Gary, she’d say, her voice sounding like it was coming from a deep well.
That’s why I was so horrified Dad had told her about Brenda on the drive to church. What had he been thinking? We couldn’t shield her from everything, but we could usually control the rate at which bad news reached her. She’d seemed to take it in stride, which made me uneasy. But then I thought maybe it was for the best, given that Father Adolph would surely mention Brenda’s disappearance during the sermon. Mom could take a lot of bad news in church. She said she felt supported here.
“They wanted to hear if there were any updates on the missing girls,” Dad said, making the sign of the cross and guiding us into our pew. Mom, Junie, and me followed suit as the last bells tolled overhead. The rustling of movement inside the church stopped on cue with the final clanging echo of the bell. I breathed in the comforting smells of frankincense and wood soap while the candles were lit. The choir began the entrance song as Father Adolph approached the pulpit, followed by his altar boys. He bowed and swung his incense holder before nodding at a helper to take it away.
“All rise,” he said, looking like a bad wind was blowing right through him.
The congregation stood as one.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” Father Adolph intoned.
“Amen,” we said back. Mom reached behind Junie to squeeze my hand. Had I amened too loudly? But Mom kept her eyes on the priest.
Father Adolph continued. “Welcome to all who have joined us for worship today; may you find solace and strength among your brethren. I am so grateful for your presence. We must trust in our Lord Jesus Christ and with His strength, rely on each other. Right now, in this moment, three of our families need our love desperately.” He looked up from the pulpit, his eyes sorrowful, his face drawn. “Gloria Hansen.”
We all glanced around like she might stand up. I didn’t see her among the congregation.
“Her precious daughter is with our Lord, and it’s up to us to tend Gloria here on earth.” He nodded solemnly, then continued: “The Tafts also need our love.”
Same response, all of us gawking but no Tafts to be seen.
“Their daughter, Brenda, has gone missing. If you know anything about her disappearance, please talk to Sheriff Nillson.”
This brought some gasps from the few who hadn’t heard the news, followed by a murmuring disquiet. Sheriff Nillson, who was sitting a few rows up and to the left, raised his hand, as if there were anyone here who didn’t know who he was.
“In the meanwhile, we must pray for our dear Brenda’s safe and speedy return. The same goes for Elizabeth McCain, who hasn’t been seen since she disappeared from the Northside Diner over a week ago. If you know anything, even if you don’t think it’s important, talk to Sheriff Nillson. Let us give our hearts in prayer to these missing girls and their families.”