Bent Road - Lori Roy [34]
“Good Lord in heaven,” Reesa says. “Hush, child. No one took that pie. I put it on the front porch to cool.”
Celia spins on her heel to face Reesa. “Reesa, why didn’t you . . .” but Arthur gives her a look that tells her he’s heard quite enough about the pie.
“So what about that undue force, Father?” Arthur says.
Father Flannery stands, staring at Ruth so hard that she can’t lift her head. “I think we owe it to Ray to include him in these discussions. An annulment is no small matter.”
“It damn sure isn’t,” Arthur says, also standing.
He is taller than Father Flannery by a good four inches but not nearly as round. Both men rest their fingertips on the edge of the table—Father Flannery on one end, Arthur on the other.
“Ray will not set foot in this house,” Arthur says. “I’ll make that perfectly clear.”
“Understood,” Father Flannery says. “We’ll meet in the church, then. Or perhaps down at the café. When Ray returns, he’ll have his thoughts heard.” Father Flannery shakes his head as Elaine walks through the front door carrying the pie. “Thank you anyway, Mrs. Scott, but I’ll need to be getting along.”
“Twenty years this has been going on, Father. Where has the church been for twenty years?”
“And you, Arthur? Where have you been for twenty years?” The Father takes his coat from the back of the chair and drapes it over his arm.
Reesa pats her shiny, red cheeks with her handkerchief, the same one she carries into church every Sunday. Elaine sets the pie on the table and stands by Ruth, who is still staring at the floor. Celia crosses her arms and starts tapping her foot, but she stepped into her lavender slippers when they came back from their walk, so it doesn’t make any noise.
“Thank you for the coffee, Mrs. Scott.” The Father nods in Celia’s direction. “Reesa,” he says, giving Reesa the same nod.
“Father.” From her spot near the stove, Ruth lifts her head, but not her eyes, and pulls her thin sweater closed as she wraps her arms around herself. “Maybe an annulment isn’t called for.”
“Ruth,” Arthur says. “What are you saying? It damn sure is called for. That man beat you nearly senseless.”
“Arthur,” Celia says, holding up a hand, and then in a softer voice, “Ruth, you deserve some peace. I agree with Arthur. No matter what, that home is not safe for you.”
Ruth touches the ends of her new hair. “I don’t know if I can ever go back to him, Father.” She turns toward Celia and Arthur. “And I’m so grateful that you’ve taken me in. But I can’t have an annulment.”
Father Flannery crosses his arms and rests them on his large stomach. “A married woman goes back, Ruth. She doesn’t live in her brother’s house.”
“Yes, Father. I’ll stay married, but I don’t know if I can go back.”
“Ruth, honey,” Celia says, running a hand over Ruth’s new hair. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Damn sure don’t,” Arthur says.
Reesa crosses her arms and frowns because Arthur cursed again in front of Father Flannery.
“They’re right, Ruth,” Father Flannery says, sniffing and pushing his glasses into place. He stands for a moment, fixing his eyes on Ruth as if the Holy Spirit will sort out the problem if he gives it time and a little silence. “Is there something more I should know?”
“No, Father. Nothing.”
Still staring at Ruth, Father Flannery pulls on his black overcoat, tugs his collar into position and puts on his hat. “Reesa,” he says, keeping his eyes on Ruth. “Anything I should know about?”
Reesa stretches her chin into the air and pats the folds of her neck. With her eyes closed and her face tilted toward the ceiling, she says, “No, Father. Nothing at all.”
“What about you, son?” Father Flannery says.
Inside the back door, Ian and Daniel stand, their cheeks red, their noses shiny because they’ve just come in from the cold.
“Do you think there’s anything else I should know about?”
Daniel steps into the kitchen and looks around the room. “I’m not sure what you mean, Father. We were out”—he pauses—“walking.”
“Yeah,” Ian says, stepping up next to Daniel and rubbing his