After the Sun Sets (18+)

CHAPTER 20a - Pilgrimage pt.2

The chapel looked dark and foreboding as Lora stood just outside its doors. Her shadow stretched before her, reaching the middle of the aisle. It was quiet and empty inside. There were still two hours for the next service. Father Louis would be home for lunch and the helpers were long gone, but Lora's heart was hammering as though a legion of pilgrims was right around the corner, ready to pummel her with stones as soon as she set foot inside.

Her gaze was fixed determinedly on the altar as she searched for a scrap of recognition, for a divine sign that told her she was welcome inside. But the divine sign never came, and so Lora had no choice but to trust her faith and take the leap.

She put her right foot forward, then her left, then she stopped. She took in a breath, held it, counted to ten, and let go. And then she did it again and again and then she was inside. She waited with bated breath.

Nothing happened. No cracking open of the floor to swallow her whole. No thunderclap or lightning aiming to strike her down. No wailing souls reaching to drag her to the pits of hell. Just silence. Quiet. Waiting.

She exhaled steadily, as though the fact that the hand of God himself had not come down to curse her gave her an ounce of courage. Slowly, slowly, she made it halfway down the aisle, the uncomfortable feeling, hollow and heavy at the same time, growing intense in her belly. She had never felt so juxtaposed. The shrine in front of her was familiar and yet foreign, welcoming and menacing. She felt alone and yet she was certain she was being watched. She felt the resistance but at the same time, she was being pulled towards the altar. It was strange. It was overwhelming. And suddenly, it was all too much.

She all but ran towards the altar, scared and desperate, or maybe something had thrust her forward, and crashed onto the steps. Tears streamed down her cheeks and, as she fearfully lifted her eyes towards the holy sacrament, she could barely see. She could barely think. Everything was foggy. Her sight, her thoughts.

Her heart broke. Lora was certain it had snapped clean in two and the pain oozed out of its four chambers, sticky and submerging and suffocating, filling her lungs.

"What am I doing?" she gasped for hope, for air, for answers. "Where did you go? Why did you leave me? I'm lost. I'm lost! I don't know who I am anymore. I'm having an affair. I want a divorce and I want it so badly. I will do anything to get away from this! My life, my vows. I will leave a crippled man on his own. I will abandon my nieces and forget about what is best for my children. My innocent babies! Who am I? Where did you go?"

Lora was so distressed she didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind her, first slow and then hurried and urgent. She didn't hear her mother's voice calling out her name. She was slamming her fists on the cold, marble floor, head bowed in shame and voice pleading. Pleading for direction, for answers she could follow blindly, for another chance to be a loyal sheep.

And finally, when her mother's hands wrapped around her shoulders and turned her into her chest, Lora felt it. The love. The safety. The acceptance of a listening ear and a soothing heart. "I can't do this anymore, Ma," she cried. "I can't. It's too hard."

And while Carmen had no idea what happened, she understood. She couldn't even begin to fathom what had tormented her daughter so. But her mother, being a mother, knew. And so she did the only thing she could and held her. She rocked her and smoothed her hair and told her exactly what she needed to hear. "Have faith, my child! God is merciful."

Lora gripped onto her mother's shoulders, if not onto her words. "I don't know what to do! I've been shown more mercy than I deserve and yet..."

"Yet, what?" Carmen asked holding her daughter even tighter, praying she won't hear the apprehension in her voice or the increased beating in her chest.

"It's so hard to stay, Mama. I want more. Don't I deserve more? I just want to run away. I want to run away and never come back. I'm a coward. I feel selfish."

Carmen kissed the top of Lora's head to buy herself the time she needed to get her words in the right order.

"You are not a coward," she said firmly, "and you are most definitely not selfish. You have had the toughest life and borne the gravest of sorrows. It's only natural to break. It is normal to doubt yourself and your faith and think that God has abandoned you. Because sometimes, that is exactly what it feels like. But remember, you can only run so far and for so long. Eventually, you'll get tired, and you'll want to come home. God is greater than you think. He is beyond what is rational. Look at Wayne and Janet! They were on the verge of breaking down and then God gave them hope."

"Hope? What hope do I have?" Lora sniffed, wishing that she could simply accept her mother's words, just like she had so many times before. "I am beyond hope, beyond salvation now. I have no right to pray for hope."

And sadly, Carmen knew the feeling. After all, when her daughter died she was made to feel like a fallen woman. A failure. And soon after that, her husband died and she believed it was God's way of punishing her. She had somehow allowed her eldest to discard the life the Lord had so graciously given her and then allowed her youngest to sacrifice herself without a second thought. Anything to stop the people from talking. Because there was talk. Even after the wedding, there was talk.

Why was little Lora always at her sister's house, even after she died? Was little Lora pregnant? Was that why she was marrying her late sister's husband? Had they been betraying her all along? Was that why poor Hannah killed herself?

Oh, yes. Catholics went to Church. Oh, they were a tight-knit community. Oh, they were charitable. And oh, how they loved to talk.

Carmen talked too. She talked to Father Louis and he explained it perfectly. There may be things beyond our control, he told her, but not beyond His. There are things we do not understand because we do not possess the ability to do so. But everything is a test. An opportunity. A chance to forgive, to repent, to praise, to believe. It was all there for the taking, and God was at the very centre of all.

"Where there is life, there is hope," she answered in a steady voice. "Have faith, be patient, and you will find it."