We Were the Mulvaneys
“Yet I think it must have been partly my fault. I’m her mother, it must have been partly my fault. I’m waiting, O God I’m hoping to understand. St. Ann’s Roman Catholic Church, at the hilly crest of Mercer Avenue, a snowy-glaring cemetery behind it, was one of the few Mt. Ephraim churches Corinne had never once stepped inside. Not just that St. Ann’s was a Catholic church (and Corinne, Protestant to her fingertips, had a nervous apprehension of the Holy Roman Faith) but, somehow, she and Michael... Sr. didn’t seem to have any close friends in the parish who might have invited them to weddings, baptisms, funerals.Corinne wondered: Did Marianne have a special friend in St. Ann’s?—was that the connection?She parked the station wagon hurriedly in front of the church, one wheel up on the curb and she hadn’t even noticed. Thank God, her husband wasn’t a witness. Thank God, the church parking lot was almost empty, no mass at this hour of midafternoon, no one around. Corinne hoped.MoreLess
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