Page 25 of House of Sin
I let out a short laugh, but it had no humor to it. “Well, it wasn’t exactly part of my life plan, Father. But you know what they say: When life hands you a pile of wreckage, you might as well build something out of it.”
“Is that what you did, Birdie?” He asked. “Built something from wreckage?”
“Hell, yes. And let me tell you, it’s a damn fine wreckage I’ve got to work with.” I shot him a sly grin, though he couldn’t see it. “You wouldn’t believe how many men there are in this town who think they deserve a bit of company. A drink, a little something extra ... and a place to forget their miserable lives. It’s like they just can’t help themselves, Father.”
Father Cyrus chuckled. “I’m beginning to think you’ve got a flair for sarcasm, my dear.”
I stared at the ceiling, searching for the words. “What can I say? It’s a gift.” My eyes narrowed, a spark of heat burning behind them. “I named it The Oily Cat.”
“The Oily Cat?” Father Cyrus repeated, his voice full of surprise. “Well . . . that’s unique.”
“Yeah, I know. A classy name, huh?” I couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at my lips, but there was an edge to it now, the kind of edge that comes from being both defiant and unapologetic. “But it works. They come in, they get what they need, and they leave. No strings attached. No judgment. Just money for me and a bit of peace for them.”
“You know I’m not blind, Birdie,” he said, his voice still gentle but edged with concern. “I know this town has its share of places like that. Butyou—you’ve never struck me as the kind of woman who would choose that path. So tell me . . . why a brothel?”
“I had nothing left.Nothing. After John, after Ray, it felt like the world had swallowed me whole. And when those men attacked me, when they took what little I had left, I had a choice. I could crawl into a hole and die, or I could do what I needed to survive. And I chose survival.”
“And you’ve found peace in this ... work?”He asked.
I snorted. “Peace? Father, if you think I’m walking around holding hands with angels, singing hymns all day, you’ve got another thing coming. But I’ve found control. I’ve found a way to make sure I don’t let the world push me around anymore. If I’m gonna play in the muck, I might as well own the damn swamp.”
There was a long pause and I know he was studying my words, searching for the layers beneath them. He’d seen the wife, the mother, the widow, the woman driven to the edge. But now he was seeing someone different, a woman who had taken her pain and turned it into power. “You know, Birdie,” he spoke finally, “the world will try to break you down, again and again, it doesn’t care about your pain or your choices. But it’s clear to me that you’ve done what you had to do to rebuild yourself. You’ve found strength in a place where many would have crumbled.”
I sighed, rubbing my fingers over the smooth beads of the rosary, feeling their familiar comfort seep into my bones. “I don’t know about strength, Father, I just know I needed to survive. And if that means doing something I never thought I’d do, then so be it.”
Father Cyrus’s voice softened, almost a whisper now. “I think you’ve always had strength, Birdie, you just didn’t know where to look for it. And maybe, just maybe, this is where it’s led you.”
“You don’t think less of me?” I asked quietly, the vulnerability in my voice a stark contrast to the bravado I’d been carrying thus far.
Father Cyrus huffed. “Not in the slightest. But I do worry, my child, this path ... it will be hard. It will demand things from you that you may not have anticipated. But remember, you are never alone, not truly, not with the faith you carry.”
I gave a wry smile, letting his words sink in. “You’re a good man, Father, but don’t go getting soft on me now. I still need you to keep me in check, keep me from crossing the line.”
“I’ll do what I can, Birdie,” he said with a chuckle, “but I think it’s clear you’re not someone who needs a lot of saving.”
I stood up, smoothing the folds of my dress. “No, I suppose I’m not. But a little guidance never hurt.”
“You’ll have it, always.” Father Cyrus said warmly. “And if you ever need someone to talk to, know that I’m here.”
I nodded, turning to leave. The door of the confessional creaked again as I pushed it open and walked back through the church ready to step back out into the night. The rain was still falling in steady sheets, but for the first time in a long while, I felt like I had made peace with myself—not with my sins, but with the woman I had become. I wasn’t the woman I thought I’d be, but I was the woman I needed to be.
“Take care of yourself, Birdie,” Father Cyrus called after me.
“You too, Father,” I replied, offering a small, genuine smile before stepping outinto the storm.
14
WHEN GOD TURNS HIS BACK, I OPEN MY ARMS
Icouldn’t sleep. I’d been lying there for what felt like hours, the sheets tangled around my legs, staring into the dark, my thoughts refusing to settle. Every time I closed my eyes, something surfaced, voices, faces, unfinished conversations.My body was still, but my mind was moving too fast, cycling through memories I hadn’t asked to revisit.
I shifted under the sheets, hoping for stillness that didn’t come, and finally rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. If sleep wasn’t going to find me, the past would. And tonight, it brought the girls with it, each one, exactly how they were when I first met them.
It had been a cold night, colder than most, where the chill sinks straight into your bones. I’d been walking down the quiet streets of Butte, my thoughts on the brothel, always planning the next step for The Oily Cat, always looking for a way to make things a little easier, a little safer.
I had nearly passed the alley when I saw her: Maeve. She was standing by the curb, her back straight despite the chill, the light of a nearby lantern catching the fire in her red hair. It was her hair that first drew my attention, fiery and wild. But what caught my eye most was the look on her face when she approached me, one of determination, of someone who had no intention of being controlled.
“Are you Bernadette?” She asked, her voice rich, with a lilt from a faraway place.
