Southern Comfort

by ANDREA SMITH

  Donna placed a helping of mashed potatoes on her plate, and shook her head. “There’s no way we can encourage or persuade her, Avery. She picks her own friends and nothing we say is going to change that. Now, I know you think the Margolis girl is trash, but Sunny has been friends with her for a long time and, the truth is, back in the day her mother was a friend of mine. It’s a complicated situation.”

  He helped himself to some chicken and eyed her warily. “You were friends with Gloria Sanders?” he asked pensively.

  “I was. That was a long time ago. Before Sunshine was even born.”

  “What happened?” Avery asked.

  “We parted ways. She turned out not to be the friend I thought she was, that’s all. We’re civil to one another, but that’s where it ends.”

  Avery didn’t press her further. He was simply relieved that his wife wasn’t fond of Gloria. He had no idea that they had once been friends. Not that it mattered now. He had terminated Gloria’s counseling and hopefully she had resumed intimacy with her husband so that all of their hard work together hadn’t been a total waste.

  “So Avery,” Donna said, “how did things go at the convention?”

  And Avery Dawson put all thoughts of his stepdaughter and Gloria Sanders out of his mind so that he could tell his wife all the wonderful connections he’d made at the seminar. He relayed to her his mission to get a youth group started at the church.

  He could tell within the first few minutes she was bored with the whole conversation. But it didn’t really matter because he loved talking about his ministry. It gave him more peace of mind than having to hear about her prattle on about her mundane job at the Piggly Wiggly, or argue about the lack of parenting she provided her daughter.

  She finally made an excuse to go downstairs to unload the dryer. It was just as well. Now he could enjoy his dinner in peace.

  Chapter 33

  The weekend spent with Gina was a bust as far as my blind date with Vince. How in the world Gina ever thought he would be perfect for me was practically an insult. On Friday night, we went to the roller skating rink, which wasn’t half bad because I loved to skate. Afterwards was the part that sucked.

  Craig drove out to Crybaby Bridge, the lover’s lane in our area, and while he and Gina where making out hot and heavy, I was in the back seat, twiddling my thumbs until Vince started coming on to me.

  After a few polite requests, followed up by shoving his hands away from me, I finally had enough.

  “Keep your nasty hands off of me!” I yelled.

  Finally, I had the attention of the occupants in the front seat that popped their heads up and glanced back to where I had my body pressed up against the car door.

  “What’s your problem?” Vince snarled. “Frigid or a lesbo?”

  “Screw you!”

  “That’s kinda what I had in mind, babe.”

  “Vince, cool it,” Craig warned from the front seat.

  “Gina, I want to go. Now.”

  There had been no argument from her and finally when we were in the privacy of her bedroom, I let loose on her. “How in the hell could you possibly have thought I’d be perfect for that son-of-a-bitch? Jesus, Gina, I felt like I was fighting off a freakin’ octopus back there!”

  Gina laughed as she slid out of her sweater and skirt. “How would I know he’d turn out to be a total ass? I thought he’d be more like Craig, you know? I’m sorry, I misjudged the dickhead, give me a break, girlfriend.”

  I was still furious. I didn’t want to give her a break. But being angry was bad karma and I knew it. I changed into my pajamas and just as we were ready to turn the lights out, there was a soft tapping on Gina’s door.

  “Gina? You awake?”

  It was her mother.

  “Yeah, Mom. Come on in.”

  Gloria came in and shut the door softly behind her. “Good, you’re both here. Eddie’s asleep and I just wanted to check with Sunny to see if she’d heard anything back from Monsignor Donahue since your visit this week.”

  Gina and I had told her mother that we’d gone there to enlist his assistance in some way with the issue of Avery and his method of counseling. The priest hadn’t given us much hope that his intervention would solve the problem of Avery Dawson’s despicable behavior. He did promise us that he would make an appointment with Avery to discuss the situation, keeping everything confidential with the exception that it had come to his attention by someone in his congregation who had reached out to a minister of another faith for assistance.

  I knew that Avery would be royally pissed at that, but since there were multiple victims, he would be hard pressed to know exactly who had complained.

  “No ma’am,” I replied, “but then again, Avery’s been out of town at some convention, so I’m sure Monsignor Donahue wasn’t able to schedule anything until after he gets back.”

  “When does he return?” Gloria asked, wringing her hands.

  “He’s back. He got back today. He’ll be preaching at Sunday’s services,” I replied.

  “Hmph,” she replied, chewing on her bottom lip. “Eddie and I will be there. I’m not going to let him think I had anything to do with letting the cat out of the bag. Let him think it’s Stella Martin.”

  “Or Gwen Marshall or the other half dozen women he’s counseled over the past couple of years,” Gina hissed.

  “Gwen?” Gloria whispered, clearly shocked. “Oh My God. Not Gwen?”

  “Why not Gwen, Mom?” Gina snapped. “Do you think Gwen Marshall is somehow above this? What about you? Did you stop to think how others might be just as shocked if they knew you were a member of Avery’s fuck flock?”

  I’d never heard Gina speak that way to her mother—or anyone with authority before. I held my breath, waiting for Gloria’s hand to land smack dab against Gina’s face.

  But it didn’t happen.

  Gloria immediately closed the distance between herself and Gina. She wrapped her arms around her daughter and pulled her close. “I’m so sorry, Gina. I’m so ashamed of myself. You’re right. How could I possibly have allowed myself to be so easily manipulated by that man? What kind of trash am I?” Her voice broke off in a sob.

  Gina hugged her tightly. “Hush now. Mom. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just I’m so damn angry about this—about you. I don’t know the right thing to do. I think you need to tell Eddie. Be honest with him.”

  Gloria’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I can’t now. There’s no way in hell. The doctor said I’m just six weeks along. It can’t be Eddie’s baby. If I came clean, it would just kill Eddie! Trust me on that. I’ve made the decision to terminate. It’s set. Nobody has to know about this, girls. I need your word that you won’t ever tell a soul, please?”

  Gina pulled back from her mother and shook her head slowly. “Of course, Mom. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or Eddie. But are you sure about this?”

  “I’m sure,” she said with a sigh. “Sunny?”

  “I would never tell. I wouldn’t want Mama to be hurt by this either. I know Avery is evil, Gloria. And I wish he wasn’t in my life or my mother’s, but for now, there’s nothing I can do about it. You have my word.”

  “Well, I appreciate that, and I also am thankful for your help with this, Sunny. I know your life must feel complicated. I feel for you, honey.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, it is complicated. But it helps that we’re going to do something about it now. I just hope we can do it without hurting Mama in the process.”

  Gloria wiped her eyes, and gave Gina a kiss on the forehead. “You two go on and get to bed. Just let me know when you hear something, Sunny.”

  “I will, ma’am, I promise.”

  “And no more ma’am stuff with me, Sunny, you hear? After all, I was there when Father Donahue poured that holy water over your little bald head the day you were baptized. So, how about we not get all caught up in formalities?”

  I nodded again. “Sure,” I reply. But this time I was total
ly taken aback by her revelation that she was there at my baptism. What was up with that? I didn’t think my mother liked her, and I was pretty damn sure she didn’t like her back.

  I waited for Gina to say something to that effect, but she didn’t. Gloria gave us both a smile and a wink and left Gina’s room.

  “Let’s crash,” Gina said, turning the lights out. “I’m beat.”

  I stayed awake long after I heard Gina’s soft snoring in the twin bed across the room. Why in the hell had Gloria Sanders been present at my baptism? Had she and my mother been friends at one time? It was hard to believe, and since I couldn’t count on getting an honest answer from my mother these days, I’d find out some other way. Maybe Gloria would fill me in when all this shit was over with Avery.

  What a tangled web…

  Chapter 34

  It was Saturday morning and Avery was catching up on all of the mail and messages that had come in during his short absence. A minister’s work was never done it seemed. Bonnie had neatly stacked his incoming mail with the oldest on top, and she had done the same with his phone messages. He appreciated Bonnie’s knack for detail. Of course he would want to address these in the order from which they’d been received.

  He rifled through the mail first. Nothing exciting there. Utility bills, junk mail, and a thank you note from the Widow Hampton on how beautifully he had eulogized her dearly departed husband, Roscoe, at his funeral services a few weeks back. She’d enclosed a check for a hundred dollars, directing him to use it for the new youth group he was starting at the church.

  Avery pulled his wallet out, and placed the check inside. He would use it as he saw fit since the collection plate hadn’t been nearly as impressive as he had hoped this past Sunday. He wondered if his parishioners understood that money collected was used to pay church expenses, and then his salary. It rankled him to no end that there were weeks Donna brought home more money from her job as a cashier at the Piggly Wiggly than he did from his ministry.

  Once he got the youth ministry started, there would be all kinds of fundraising projects that would help boost his salary, and also bring more people into the congregation on a permanent basis.

  Avery started through the stack of pink While You Were Out phone messages received during his absence. Stella Martin needed to reschedule her appointment for the following week. No biggie he thought as he scribbled a note to Bonnie to confirm the reschedule for the week after next.

  The next message caught him completely off guard. Monsignor Donahue had called three days ago, and left a message that he would like to schedule a meeting with Avery at his earliest convenience. His phone number was listed, with the box checked to call him back.

  What possible reason would Patrick Donahue have for wanting to meet with Avery? He was intent on finding out as he picked up his desk phone and dialed the number.

  “Reverend Dawson returning Monsignor Donahue’s call,” Avery barked into the phone. He waited impatiently as the housekeeper went to fetch the priest, tapping his fingers against the receiver.

  “Good morning, Reverend Dawson,” he heard from the other end. “Thanks for returning my call.”

  Several minutes later, Avery found himself staring blankly at the receiver now returned to its cradle. He knew nothing more than before he’d made the call.

  Something was amiss, that much was evident. But the priest had only said it was a matter of dire importance that had come to his attention, and that it was of a very sensitive nature. He refused to discuss it over the phone, so Avery had no choice but to schedule a meeting with the Catholic priest. Donahue had insisted Avery come to the rectory for the appointment, explaining that the subject matter was of an extremely delicate nature. Avery had bristled at the insinuation that the priest’s turf was obviously more conducive to confidentiality than his own office at the church. It shouldn’t have surprised him though. In his experience, Catholics were uppity that way.

  Avery had capitulated and made an appointment to meet with him at his parish office the following Monday afternoon. He was certain this had something to do with Sunny. What else could it possibly be? Perhaps Donahue was curious as to whether Avery knew about his involvement with Donna? Was he somehow worried that Avery would spill his dirty little secret?

  How rich was that? It might serve him well to have a priest beholden to him going forward. Father Donahue certainly didn’t want to risk his reputation in the community or with his congregation if that secret was made public. But why now? Avery frowned wondering whether Donna had been in touch with the priest in recent weeks. Perhaps she had confided something to him, in which case Avery would be livid.

  He grabbed his jacket and headed home. He needed to speak to his wife at once about this sudden development involving the Catholic priest. This had to be more than a coincidence. Had Donna run to him while Avery had been away? What had she disclosed to her former lover?

  Those were all questions that swarmed through his troubled mind as he drove home where he would demand some answers from his wife.

  Donna checked her watch as she pulled into the parking lot of Sacred Heart Catholic Church. It was quarter to four. Confessions were heard every Saturday between two and four. She had fifteen minutes to get into that confessional and make sure that Patrick Donahue heard her confession. It was the only way to save herself from Avery’s wrath. It simply had to work.

  She entered the vestibule and took a deep breath before opening the heavy oak door that led into the church. She was thankful that only a couple of parishioners were seated in separate areas of the church, praying silently.

  Her eyes darted quickly towards the sanctuary, where one of the two wooden confessionals was located. The one nearest to the marble steps that led up to the altar had the red light illuminated, meaning it was open for confession.

  The sounds of her heels clicking against the tiled floor resounded in the dark quiet of the high ceilinged church. Candles flickered at the foot of the statue depicting the crucifixion. Donna stopped and dipped her right hand into the font of holy water placed there, and made the sign of the cross before continuing towards the front of the church.

  Beneath the heavy, dark red velvet curtain that hung across the confessional, she could see that no one was currently using that side, so she parted the drape, pulling it closed behind her, as she knelt and waited for the priest to slide the wooden door open to hear her confession.

  There was a decorative screen that provided anonymity, though Donna knew by now the priest’s eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness and the identity of the confessor was no secret. That didn’t matter to her. She wanted Patrick Donahue to know it was her. There was no point in her being there if he didn’t. She wondered if she even remembered what she was supposed to say. It had been many, many years since she’d been to confession.

  Just then, she heard the wooden panel slide, and the pattern of the screen came into view. Donna could feel his presence inches away. Her head bowed, she made the sign of the cross, “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been many years since my last confession.”

  “Tell me your sins,” he said, and she immediately recognized the kind voice of Patrick Donahue.

  “I have many, Father, but one is pressing and I need forgiveness. Your forgiveness. You see, I lied to my husband about something because I was too ashamed to tell him the truth.”

  “I see,” he replied, “And did this lie hurt him?”

  “No,” she replied, “But I’m afraid it might’ve hurt you, Father. You see, I led him to believe…I led him to think that you fathered my daughter, Sunshine.”

  There was silence.

  “Donna?”

  “Yes, Patrick. It’s me. And I’m sorry for my deception, but I didn’t know what else to do. You know my secret. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. Please forgive me?”

  “I don’t understand, Donna. Why would you be ashamed of something that was no fault of your own?”

  Donna sighed,
and wiped an errant tear from her cheek. “Because I’m not sure Avery would see it that way. He’s very…regimented. He believes that everyone has control of their destiny, and that the choices and decisions they make are their responsibility to own and bear the consequences of, so I panicked. I’m sorry.”

  There was another moment of silence. Then, “Why me?”

  Donna’s voice quivered. “He saw my family bible. The Catholic one. He saw your name as Sunshine’s Godfather, so I just said enough to allow him to draw his own conclusion. I just couldn’t tell him about that night. . . that horrible night . . . . He’d see me as being dirty and stained, I just know it. I can’t have my husband seeing me like that. Please, Patrick, I’m confessing my sin of deception to you right here and right now. I’m asking for God’s forgiveness and for you to absolve me of my sin and give me my penance,” she whispered hoarsely.

  She heard a sigh from the other side of the screen. “For your penance, please say the Act of Contrition five times. I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

  “Thank you, Father. And by the way, I know you’re meeting with Avery next week. I expect nothing will be said about my visit today. It’s the rule, right?”

  The sound of Monsignor Donahue sliding the wooden panel shut was the only answer Donna received. She smiled as she left the confessional and walked over to take a seat in one of the pews, where she recited the Act of Contrition in her mind five times.

  Chapter 35

  Reverend Avery Dawson ran his index finger across the top of the ornate mahogany desk and held it up to the light to see if any dust had accrued.

  None.

  He pulled out his pressed white linen handkerchief and wiped his finger clean anyway. Well, good for Monsignor Donahue. His cleaning service was superior to his own. Big deal. It wasn’t as if the Catholic Church didn’t have an abundance of money. Unlike the Southern Baptists who always seemed to be struggling in their own small communities to stay afloat.