told me I’m going to have to take it easy for a while,” she says. “I’ve been thinking—I know I wasn’t keen on the stay-at-home-mom role before, but I think I’d like to give it a try. I think that I’d like to raise our baby full-time. Would that be okay, Michael?”
“Nothing would make me happier,” I assure her. “I’m so glad we’re on the same page.”
“What do you mean?”
As I brush my fingers over her hand, I perch on the edge of her bed. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to come back to work once we had the little one, so I hired someone to take your place.”
At that, she frowns. “What—you mean at the office?”
“I have a new personal secretary. She said she knows you, actually. Recognized you from a picture on my desk. She said she worked with you at your previous job, and that last summer, my company was all you talked about.”
All the color drains from Colleen’s face. “Who?”
“A girl named Tiffany. I think she’s going to be a perfect fit.” I pause. “But, sweetheart, why didn’t you ever tell me you worked at a women’s clinic?”
COLLEEN
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” I dab two fingers to my forehead. Center of my chest. My left shoulder. My right. “My last confession was in July, six months ago. Before I begin, I need to ask you something, Father.”
He lowers his head toward the screen dividing us. “Of course.”
Outside the confessional, the church is filled with attendees for Joanna’s funeral. I can hear people speaking in low, grieving voices. A few seconds ago, I slipped out of the pew, telling Michael I needed a moment to myself, and my heart hasn’t stopped pounding since.
“Is it true that you are bound, as a man of the cloth, to keep my confession secret, no matter the sins I’ve committed?”
“I am,” he says.
“Even if they’re mortal sins?”
“Mortal sins are a deadly offense against God, but He will forgive every sinner who is truly sorrowful. The sinner must confess, complete penance, and set a firm resolution not to commit the sin again.”
“I see.”
“If you are ready to repent, rest assured the sacramental seal is inviolable. Sins confessed to me still remain between you and the Lord—I am merely the vessel you will use to cleanse your spirit. Now, what sins have you committed that you would like to share with the Lord?”
I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of oil and candles, and try to meet the gaze of the priest sheltered behind the screen. I can’t see his face, only the wispy white hair that falls down the sides of his head, and the deep crease lines etched around the corners of his eyes and mouth. Outside the confessional, another priest begins a prayer for Joanna to comfort everyone who loved her. I cringe at hearing her name.
“Lord forgive me, I have committed three sins,” I confess softly. “The first way I’ve displeased God is by lying. During the application process at my job at a clinic, I used my mother’s maiden name rather than my own. It was a rash attempt at reinvention, to forge a new identity after running from a man who didn’t treat me well. I didn’t want him to find me, and I thought—well, I thought it’d be easy to become someone else. Like shedding one skin and trying on another.”
“And what consequences came from executing this sin?”
“I never heard from him again,” I say, satisfied. “I’d done what I set out to do: eliminate him from my life. But after a couple months, my boss at the clinic started asking questions. I hadn’t thought the details through. By the time he confronted me, though, I’d already committed my second sin.”
As the priest crosses one leg over the other, the wooden bench groans beneath his weight. “Which was?”