Siobhan didn’t see him in the corner of the sacristy. She kneeled in a rear pew, folded her hands, and dropped her head to pray. For the longest time she remain fixed in that position, what ever conversation she was having with God clearly a long one. Collin could only imagine the grief his sister had to endure.
He’d grieved over each calamity that had befallen her, his favorite sister. Everyone always thought Julia had been the favorite sister, but he’d always loved Siobhan the best. And what she’d had to endure! Losing four babies, Martin dead just after she’d turned forty, nearly losing the house in the Depression, now forced to move to a strange city where all those Roosevelt socialists were destroying their country, Patrick unmarried with no prospects – and Agnes. Oh, Agnes pained Collin more than anything.
His own niece had betrayed their entire way of living – by marrying that man, that heathen who’d laughed at them just after Annie Kate’s funeral. He’d taken their beautiful red-headed princess and turned her into … well, he couldn’t say it … an Episcopalian. Damned for all eternity, and their bastard daughter, too – just born a short six months after the wedding. And his sister, kneeling there at St. Patrick’s Church, at his parish, unable to change the events that had nearly destroyed her life.
God will protect you, dear sister – always keep your faith. I know you have the faith, dear Siobhan. Even if your only daughter betrayed you, keep your faith. Because the kingdom of salvation awaits you.
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