Good Graces - Lesley Kagen [114]
She calls over from the school corner, “Ready or no, here I go, Thally!”
I shout back, “No, stay there, Wendy! Gimme a minute.”
I’m sure God wouldn’t have let Wendy tackle Father Mickey hard enough to kill him if that wasn’t part of His plan. Our fate is in His hands, right? Even though I’m positive that what I’m about to do really is for the best, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion.
I bow my head and pray:
DEAR LORD, I KNOW THAT I HAVE NOT BEEN THAT GOOD LATELY, SO I PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE ONE, BUT YA KNOW, IF YOU COULD JUST GIVE ME A SIGN THAT WHAT I’M ABOUT TO DO IS OKAY WITH YOU, THAT’D BE GREAT. AMEN.
When I open my eyes and look to the heavens for my answer, the wind that was blowing suddenly stops and the dark clouds that were so threatening break apart to let the moon shine down on me again. That’s all I need to know. This is His celestial way of giving me two thumbs-up. God is letting me know that I am in His good graces. It’s not my imagination. How could it be?
Wendy calls to me again from around the corner in her croaking voice, “Now, Thally?”
“Almost,” I holler back.
All it takes is a couple of strong pushes to roll Father Mickey into the deep hole, where he lands with a soft thump.
When I get up off my knees and scurry around the corner to hide so Wendy can seek, I think about how tomorrow bright and early, after the cement trucks come and pour their load, Father will become part of the foundation for the new school. After I call out, “Ready!” I also think how the next time somebody tells me that the Almighty works in mysterious ways, I will have to agree with them.
Chapter Thirty
When I didn’t show up at the church confessional the way I was supposed to according to Troo’s plan, my sister came looking for me. She heard my Wicked Witch of the West cackling from down the block and the three of them followed it to the school playground. Of course, none of them are shocked to see Wendy. Just like the time she showed up in our bathroom eating a stick of butter, her appearing out of nowhere happens all the time. She really is like a mirage.
“Well?” Troo asks, coming to my side. I check her throat right away to see if Father Mickey tried to strangle her, but I don’t see any marks, just a coupla skeeter bites. There’s a handprint on her right cheek, though.
Mary Lane and Artie ask at the same time, “Well?” They want to know the nitty-gritty.
“After Troo came peelin’ out of the rectory, Father was right behind her, but I had a big head start and got across the playground in nothin’ flat.” I run my tongue over my tooth. They can’t see that it’s broken as long as I don’t smile. “I was going so fast, he didn’t even bother tryin’ to follow me. Probably he’s halfway to Mexico already,” I tell them, because a lot of times in the movies that we see at the Uptown Theatre, that’s where people go when they are on the lam so that seems really believable.
Mary Lane, who’s up on top of the monkey bars, points down to the ground where she left her camera for safekeeping and says excited, “I got the picture. It woulda been better if I waited until Father got his hands around Troo’s throat instead of just slappin’ her across the face, but Fartie here”—she cocks her head at him—“knocked my hand and the camera went off. I have to go to the zoo tomorrow with my dad, but I’ll take the film to get developed at Fitzpatrick’s soon as we get back.”
As soon as Artie is done giving Wendy an under doggie on the swings, he comes back and asks, “Should I still talk to the altar boys tomorrow?” He’s anxious to do his part of the plan. “See if I can get them to tell their parents what they did?”
Before Troo can answer, I say, “Naw. Don’t bother. I’m tellin’ ya, Father Mickey isn’t comin’ back. There’s no sense gettin’ the boys in trouble and everybody else in the neighborhood all worked up. I think we should leave things just like they are, don’t you, Troo?” It is her plan after all.
Troo says, “Yeah . . . okay,” but she’s giving me her squinty sister look that means What