Page 14 of Crossing the Line

“I’m only saying.” He stretched those next few words like he was surprised I hadn’t dusted them off his chops. To be honest, even I was caught a little off guard by my level of restraint. “Well, the Yankees have been to the World Series more times than any other team. St. Louis is second in the number of wins, I think…”

He squinted like he was considering his answer, “Well, I think St. Louis is, but I know the Yankees have won the most.”

Cole grinned, not at all put off by the correction.

“You might be right, they did have Babe Ruth once upon a time,” Cole conceded as he turned into the parking lot and found a spot.

“I appreciate your kindness,” I quietly thanked him, when Oakland shut his door.

“It’s nothing. Some fellowship will do you both good, come on.” He tipped his head toward the church building.

I opened my own door and let myself out before he could fuss over me.

I began to shake a little, as we stepped between the large double doors and into the foyer.

“Brenna,” Father Barnetti exclaimed, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Good morning, Father,” I offered with a friendly nod.

Father Barnetti was having none of that. He hobbled forward, his gait one of age and grace.

A shaky hand found my shoulder, and with it came a feeling of peace and belonging. I bit my lip against another avalanche of emotions and tipped my head in to convey my gratitude.

“You just take a seat, I’m glad to see you both.” He glanced down at Oakland and gave his shoulder a squeeze once he’d abandoned mine.

Cole reached out, placing his fingers against Oakland’s back and the boy moved onward.

“Thank you,” I whispered, just before Oakland paused near the usual pew.

He waited on me to go first and then slid between Cole and I. Daisy Robbins, a pleasant woman raising her nephews settled in front of us, winding an arm around each of her boys as she did so.

Cole was right, fellowship did make me feel a little better. It reminded me that I wasn’t in a sea of strangers or stuck in a community I didn’t really know.

Halfway through the mass, I glanced up from my kneeling position and noticed another woman had joined them.

“How you doing, C.C.?” the woman whispered, reaching out for his hand as she did so.

C.C.’s hand recoiled ever so subtly, a stiff nod answering the woman.

“Hey, Chef was–”

“Darla,” Daisy hissed, scandal lacing her tone. “The children know how to behave at mass, and you don’t? Truly?”

Daisy sniffed, straightening her posture as she shook her head and quietly mutted, “Focus, boys.”

I decided I liked her. I liked her a lot, until she glanced over her shoulder and pointedly ran her gaze over Cole.

There was nothing flirty about it, the way her lip flinched toward a curl when she met his eyes said it all.

She was disgusted by him, perhaps even more so than she had been by Darla’s antics.

When people began to line up for communion, Oakland shot off the pew and cheerfully started toward the line before I could grab him. After a moment of surveying those around him, I decided it was fine to let him go.

I settled back a bit.

My curious gaze wandered to Darla who ventured toward the washroom when Daisy took the boys to the line.

“Sisters,” Cole mumbled.