The Mystery at Sag Bridge

Chapter 12

She took a few deep breaths, walked back to her car, and got behind the wheel. She didn't want to be late. She just hoped she didn't look like a basket case when she got there.

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She didn't get her wish. Father Dennis McGrath, pronounced "McGraw", was watching for her when she arrived. "From the look on your face I'm glad I decided to see you right away," he said in greeting, with his gentle smile.

Father McGrath was a short, slight, balding priest with a round reddish face that suggested kindness, intelligence, and good humor, and wire-rimmed glasses that often slid down his nose. He dressed casually in black jeans, a black polo shirt, and black sneakers. He led her to a large parlor with four comfortable-looking overstuffed chairs facing in a circle in the middle of the room, and closed the door. Bookcases lined the room, full but neat. Cora recognized a classical work playing softly.

"It seems strange to be seeing you here instead of at our dinner table," Cora said, as her gaze roamed the room, wondering where he wanted her to sit. "This is nice. I love Mozart's Requiem. Remember when we went to the Chicago Symphony performance, and Cisco fell asleep?"

His eyes twinkled and he nodded, then gestured to one of the chairs, inviting her to sit. He turned the music off and took a chair across from her.

"I'm sorry, Father," Cora said. "This is going to sound pretty immature for an old lady like me, but I've just been crying because I miss my mommy!" she admitted, with a wry smile and a chuckle.

"Sometimes the pain comes back, even a year or two later; that's quite normal, as long as it doesn't dominate your life. How bad is it?" He focused his eyes on her face, but she avoided eye contact, sitting rigidly with her purse on her lap.

"It's okay. I bury it, and don't let myself think or talk about her. Avoidance, isn't that what it's called?"

He nodded. "It works sometimes."

"I miss having someone to go to who will care about little things. Who can I tell when I'm miserable with a cold? It's no big deal to anyone else, but it would be to Mom," Cora said.

"Yes, moms are good about that. But you said when you called that it wasn't grief that's troubling you. You wanted to talk about something else that's going on?" Father leaned back and crossed his legs, slumped comfortably in his chair, and watched her closely.

Cora and Cisco met Father McGrath shortly after moving to Lemont, when they worked together on a community project. She represented the library, and Father the local churches, in a project to enhance communication and share resources. It was a great idea that failed despite the enthusiasm of the committee, primarily because each organization refused to give up independent control. Cora, Cisco and Father hit it off and stayed friends. Cora took pleasure in their intelligent and lively discussions, and Father appreciated Cisco's open and unpretentious views on life. When Cora's mother moved in, they saw less of each other, although they emailed frequently.

The room was pleasant, with a huge mahogany desk that would dwarf the diminutive priest. Sheer curtains covered a long row of windows along one wall, looking onto a porch at the front of the rectory, which had been converted from an old home. Late afternoon sun pierced the curtains, warming and brightening the room, flickering with moving shadows of nearby bare tree branches. Cora watched the shadows for a moment before answering the priest's question.