Then he understood why the priest had come. “My parents sent you.”

“Your mother,” O’Neill said. “Your dad’s not going to let you back into the house. Your grandma wanted to take you in, but your grandfather said no.”

“But my dad, he visited me.”

“I know. He came to confession because he knows it was wrong to hit you. I told him as a penance he had to come and tell you he was sorry. He tried, but he couldn’t. Your dad’s a good man, but he has his limits.”

“But he’s my dad,” Bill said, helplessly.

“He’s a man, first, and what you’ve done…”

The words trailed off and they sat in silence for a minute.

“What happened to Marco?”

The priest frowned. “That should be the last thing on your mind, Bill Ryan.”

“Where is he?” Bill insisted.

“He has family in Massachusetts,” O’Neill replied. “That’s all I’m going to tell you. Don’t even think about looking for him. You’ve done enough harm to him.”

“I didn’t mean to. I…” He shut his eyes against the words he heard himself speak. “I love him.”

The priest said quietly, but with complete conviction, “If you loved him, you wouldn’t have perverted him.”

“But he wanted—”

“Enough,” the priest snapped. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

The kindliness was gone from the priest’s face, replaced by a mask of coldness that did not conceal the fear in his eyes. Bill realized the priest was afraid of him, as if he were the bearer of a loathsome, contagious disease. A wave of nausea choked him. He wanted to shout, You know me, Father! I’m Billy Ryan, Joe and Margaret’s youngest, Tom and Matt’s brother. I took first communion from you. I served you at the eight o’clock Mass. You coached me in Little League.

“What should I do, Father?”

“Leave,” the priest said crisply. “You should leave.”

He signed out of the hospital in borrowed clothes because he had been brought there in shorts and socks soaked with blood. The pants were too long and the shoes pinched, but the discomfort they caused was nothing compared to the skin-crawling misery he felt when he stepped out into the bright morning and saw his mother sitting in the Buick. She glanced at him when he got in and, without a word, began to drive.