There was a long pause as Father Hotchkiss digested what I had said. "Your parents have done as they thought best," he said at last. He didn't deny that I was adopted, and I still felt humiliated that practically everyone had known but me.
"My birth mother is dead," I said, pushing on. I swallowed, feeling uncomfortable, even nervous talking about this. "I want to know more about her."
"My child," Father Hotchkiss said gently. "I understand your wishes. I can't say that I would not feel the same, were I in your place. But I tell you, and I speak with years of experience, that sometimes it really is best to leave the past alone."
Tears stung my eyes, but I hadn't realty expected anything else. "I see," I whispered, trying not to cry.
"My dear, the Lord works in mysterious ways," said the priest, and I couldn't believe he was saying something so clichéd. He went on. "For some reason, God brought you to your parents, and I know they couldn't love you more. He chose them for you, and He chose you for them. It would be wise to respect His decision."
I sat and pondered this, wondering how true it was. Then I became aware that other people were waiting after me and it was time to go. "Thank you. Father," I said.
"Pray for guidance, my dear. And I will pray for you."
"Okay." I slipped out of the confessional, put on my coat, and headed out the huge double doors into bright November sunshine. I had to think.
After so many gray days it was nice to be walking in sun-light, kicking through the damp, brown leaves underfoot Every now and then a golden leaf floated down around me, and each one that fell was like another second ticking off on the clock that turned autumn to winter.
I passed through downtown Widows Vale, glancing in the shop windows. Our town is old, with the town hall dating back to 1692. Every once in a while I notice again how charming it is, how picturesque. A cool breeze lifted my hair, and i caught a scent of the Hudson River, bordering the town.
By the time I got home, I'd thought about what Father Hotchkiss had said, I could see some wisdom in his words, but that didn't mean I could accept not knowing the whole truth. I didn't know what to do. Maybe I would ask for guidance at the next circle.
Walking two miles had warmed me up nicely, and I tossed my jacket over a chair in the kitchen. I glanced at the clock. If I assumed my family followed their usual routine at the diner, they wouldn't be home for another hour or so. It would be nice to have the house to myself for a while.
A thump overhead made me freeze. Weirdly, the first thought I had was that Bree was in my house, possibly with Raven, and they were casting a spell on my bedroom or something. I don't know why I didn't think of burglars or a stray squirrel that had somehow gotten in—I just immediately thought of Bree.
I heard scuffling sounds and the loud scraping noise of a piece of furniture being jolted out of place. I quietly opened the mudroom door and picked up my baseball bat Then I kicked off my shoes and headed upstairs in my stocking feet.
By the time I reached the top of the landing, I could tell the sounds were coming from Mary K.'s room. Then I heard her voice, saying, "Ow! Stop it! Damn it, Bakker!"
I stopped, unsure of what to do.
"Get off me," Mary K. said angrily.
"Oh, come on, Mary K.," was Bakker's response. "You said you loved me! I thought that meant—"
"I told you I didn't want to do that!" Mary K. cried. I flung open the door to find Bakker Blackburn entangled with my sister on her single bed. Her legs were kicking.
"Hey!" I said loudly, making them both jump. Their heads turned to stare at me, and I saw relief in Mary K.'s eyes. "You heard her," I said loudly. "Get off!"
"We're just talking," said Bakker. Mary K.'s hands pushed against his chest, and he resisted it. Fury roiled inside me, and I raised the bat.
Whap! I gave Bakker a smart rap on his shoulder to get his attention. I hadn't been this furious since Bree and I'd had our last fight.
"Ow!" Bakker yelled. "What are you doing? Are you nuts?"
"Bakker, get off!" Mary K. said again, pushing at him.
I thrust my face close to Bakker's, and with my teeth clenched, I spoke as menacingly as I could. "Get the hell off her!"
Bakker's face went stiff, and he quickly moved away from the bed. He looked embarrassed and angry, his eyes dark. Then he snapped out his hand and knocked the bat out of my grip. My jaw dropped in surprise as the wood went flying across the room.
"Stay out of this, Morgan," he said. "You don't know what's going on. Mary K. and I are just talking."
"Ha!" said Mary K., jumping up from the bed and yanking down her shirt. "You're being an ass! Now get out!"
"Not until you tell me what's going on," Bakker said. "You said come over!" He was almost yelling, his voice filling the room. "You said come up here! What was I supposed to think? We've been going out almost two months!"
Mary K. was crying now. "I didn't mean that," she said, holding her pillow to her stomach. "I just wanted to be alone with you."
"What did you think being alone with me was all about?" he asked, his arms wide. He took a step closer to her.
"Watch it, Bakker," I warned, but he ignored me.
"I didn't mean that," Mary K. repeated, crying.
"Jesus!" he said, leaning over her. My teeth clenched, and I started edging over toward the bat. "You don't know what you want."
"Shut up, Bakker," I snapped. "For God's sake, she's fourteen."
Mary K. cried into her pillow.
"She's my girlfriend!" Bakker shouted. "I love her, and she loves me, so stay out of this! It's none of your business!"
"None of my business?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "That's my little sister you're talking about!"
Without planning it, I snapped out my arm, finger pointed at Bakker. Before my eyes a small ball of spitting, crackly blue light shot out of my finger and streaked toward him, hitting him in the side. It was like the light I had given to Jenna last night, but different Bakker yelped and stumbled, clutching his side and clawing at the bedspread. I stared at him, horrified, and he stared back at me as if I had suddenly sprouted wings and claws.
"What the hell—," he gasped, clasping his side. I was praying blood wouldn't start running out through his fingers. When he took his hand away, there were no marks on hit shirt no blood. I breathed out in relief.
"I'm out of here," he said in a strangled voice, lurching to his feet He turned back to look at Mary K. one last time. She had her face buried in her pillow, and she didn't look up. With a last glare at me Bakker stormed through the bedroom door and pounded down the steps. The front door slammed moments later, and I peeked out down the stairwell to make sure he was gone. Through the front door sidelight I saw him striding fast down the street rubbing his side. His lips were moving as if he was swearing to himself.
Back in Mary K.'s room, she was holding a tissue to her eyes and sniffling.
"Jesus, Mary K.," I said, sitting next to her on the bed. "What was that about? Why aren't you at the diner?"
She started crying again and leaned forward into me. I put my arms around her and held her, so thankful she hadn't been hurt, that I had come home when I had for the first time in a week it felt like the two of us again, the way we used to be. Close. Comfortable. Trusting each other. I had missed that so much.