Chapter 15: The Deacon Talks

Kerry's POV

Constance set her phone against a stack of books on the parlor table and said, "Everyone sit."

It was Sunday night, and the lamps were on.

My mother had the armchair by the fire.

Sam stood behind me with one hand resting on the back of my chair.

Constance's lawyer sat at the end with a legal pad and a small silver recorder.

"This call is being recorded," the lawyer said. "Everyone in the room has been told."

On the screen, Dawson's face came up, tired, in front of a beige wall.

"Grandma. He's here."

He turned the phone.

The deacon sat on a sofa in a cardigan, with a plastic cup of water in both hands.

He would not look at the camera.

"Father," Constance said.

"Mrs. Thornbury." His voice cracked on it.

"You said the funeral Mass for my son and his wife."

"I did."

"You held my grandson's hand when he was nine years old."

The deacon shut his eyes.

"Look at him now," Constance said. "Look at the man you married to the wrong woman.

Then tell this room what you knew."

For a while there was only the tick of the clock over the fireplace.

"She paid me fifteen thousand dollars," the deacon said. "She told me it was for the roof."

"And?"

"And she told me they both knew.

She said it was a private ceremony, and the young lady in the dress was part of a surprise."

"Which young lady?"

"Miss Hargrove." He opened his eyes and looked at the screen, and then at me, and I held still.

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