Sanctuary of Sins

by Roger Kazanowski

  Sharing some wine and having wonderful discussions about the past, Charlotte was the happiest she’d ever been. She raised her glass: “Gentlemen and lady, I can’t tell you how nice it is to be here. Life has been surreal for the past six months, and being able to be here with you, my old friends…” She wiped away a tear. “May God continue to bless you and your families. I love you all.”

  Afterward she was told she had a surprise. She was directed to the backseat of her private car, where she leaned her head back, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she was near the Sweetest Heart of Mary. She knocked on the window partition separating her from the driver. The window rolled down.

  “Could we stop at the church for a minute?” she asked. “If it’s no trouble…”

  “No trouble at all,” the driver said.

  As they pulled into the parking lot, the church’s lights were burning into the night sky. The lot was empty aside from a single old Buick, which she knew to belong to the same trusted custodian who had been there since she became a priest, Milton.

  Charlotte climbed out of the car and made her way to the looming oak double doors with an expression of reverence on her face. The door creaked open and she slipped into the deserted church, its cool air finding its way into her lungs. She breathed deeply, eyes closed. She could hear Milton mopping in the back rooms, his old-timey music echoing down the aisle from the pocket radio attached to his belt.

  Charlotte moved down the center aisle, gazing at each pillar and pew as if for the first time, her fingers softly touching the pews while her eyes swept over the beautiful organ at the head of the church. Moonlight pooled onto the wood floors beneath the stained-glass windows, giving the room a spectral appearance.

  She bent to her knees, crossed herself, and prayed. In her prayers were many people who had come across her path over the years. Images of their fleeting faces drifted to her, those living and dead. She thanked them with all her heart.

  After what seemed like hours, Charlotte was interrupted by Milton whistling along to an old bluegrass tune while entering the nave of the church. “I know my eyes ain’t what they used to be,” he said, wide-eyed, “but right now they’re telling me there’s a pope sitting right in front of me. Now what am I to make of that?”

  “Milton,” Charlotte said with a warm smile.

  They talked for several minutes, with Milton explaining the goings-on of her old church, to which he was a proud and loyal member. Charlotte recounted stories of the Vatican, leaving out the more stressful parts. When they parted ways, Milton said, “You’ll always have a home here at the Sweetest Heart of Mary. Don’t you forget that.”

  “Never.”

  The car took her to the Rattlesnake Restaurant. Escorted through a back hallway, there was a table for two set in a private corner overlooking the Detroit River. The lighting was kept very dim, only one waiter allowed in the area. This corner was used frequently by celebrities and rock stars, so the staff was familiar with privacy.

  John was waiting at the table as Charlotte entered. “Hi, friend,” he said with a smile.

  Charlotte gasped. “John! What on Earth is this?”

  “A special occasion. Now,” he beckoned her to a chair, “won’t you sit, Pope Frances?”

  There was a bottle of wine sitting on the table; a $6.00 bottle of red, the same blend he and Charlotte shared when they first met. There was also a plate of asparagus in honor of the asparagus stand where they bumped into each other all those years ago. John poured them each a glass.

  “John Adams,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “That’s not all,” he teased. After a minute the waiter brought out a covered canvas on an easel. John stood up and uncovered the small painting: an impressionist reimagining of the café they used to frequent at the Eastern Market.

  Charlotte cupped her mouth. “John, it’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Wait, I also have something for you,” she said, reaching into her jacket pocket and bringing forth a rosary. She held it up to the candlelight, admiring it thoughtfully. “The pope gave it to me shortly before he passed.” She offered it to him. “I want you to have it.”

  “Charlotte, I can’t—”

  She got up and placed it over his head. “Yes you can.”

  When they’d sat down again, they sipped their wine and ate the asparagus. A few minutes into their meal, they heard a child’s laughter ring out from across the restaurant. When they faced each other again, a heavy silence fell between them.

  “John,” Charlotte began slowly, “there’s something I need to—”

  “I know about Sherri,” he said, looking into her eyes.

  Charlotte gasped. Ten thousand thoughts and emotions raced through her in an instant. She felt overcome with shame, her eyes welling with tears. “I’ve wanted to tell you. All these years I’ve wanted to… I just… I didn’t know how, John. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. It’s unforgivable, I know it is.”

  “No,” John said, “that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say I understand, Charlotte. And it’s okay. Will I always wonder what life would have been like? Hell yes, but I wonder already. About you, just as you wonder about me. Will there always be a hole in my heart? There already is, the one you left behind when you realized you couldn’t be with me anymore, the one Maria left when she passed on, and now another. But there can be holes in my heart because I know everything that happened, however heartbreaking, happened because it was meant to. I don’t know God’s plan and I won’t pretend to. I don’t know the answer to life, nor have I solved the mysteries of the universe, but if there is one thing I know, it’s that love trumps all. Always. Your sister and Tom are two of the best parents a child could ask for, and they love Sherri with everything they have. Your very vocation was started because of your love for humanity. And Maria… I will love her until the end of my days and beyond. She’s up there waiting for me, loving me and the girls every moment.

  “The thing I’ve come to realize, Charlotte, is that sometimes when you feel the most pain, it’s because you feel the most love. We can’t change the past, but we can still love that girl and be there for her. We’ll just have to do it from afar. I’m here for you. I’m here for Maria and the girls; I’ll always be. That’s what this dinner is about: it’s a celebration of love.” He shrugged, his palms open. “That’s what I wanted to say to you tonight. Everything is okay.”

  Charlotte reached over and clasped his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. Thank you.

  “How about a toast?” John offered. “To clear the air.”

  Charlotte nodded, smiling through her tears. “I’d like that.” Sniffling, she raised her glass.

  John did the same. “To the past,” he said.

  “And to the future,” Charlotte added.

  Clink.