She glanced behind her and recognized a guy from the prayer group. He was a quiet one like her, a regular attendee who rarely opened his mouth.

“Hello,” she said.

He nodded once and then stared at the ground, clasping his hands together and keeping to himself. For no particular reason, she noticed that he smelled like incense, the kind that was used in the church, and she was comforted by the smoky, sweet scent.

Together they moved up two paces when someone else went in…then another two paces…and then Marie-Terese was up next.

After a lady with red-rimmed eyes came out from behind the thick velvet curtain, it was Marie-Terese’s turn to go in, and she gave the prayer group guy a smile of goodbye before stepping up to the cubicle.

When she’d shut herself in and taken a seat, the wooden panel slid back and the priest’s profile was revealed on the far side of the brass screen that separated them.

After making the sign of the cross, she said softly, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two days since my last confession.”

She paused, because even though she’d said the words many, many times, they were hard to get out.

“Speak to me, my child. Unburden yourself.”

“Father, I have…sinned.”

“In what manner.”

Even though he knew. But the point of confession was the vocalized recitation of evil deeds; without that there could be no absolution, no relief.

She cleared her throat. “I have…been with men unlawfully. And I have committed adultery.” Because some of them had had wedding rings on. “And…I took the Lord’s name in vain.” When she’d seen Vin hit the ground by the diner. “And I…”

It was a while before her list dried up and the priest’s profile nodded gravely when she fell silent. “My child…surely you know the errors of your ways.”

“I do.”

“And the transgressions against God’s ways cannot go…”

As the priest’s voice continued, Marie-Terese closed her eyes and took the message deep inside. The pain of how far she had sunk and what she was doing to herself squeezed her lungs until she couldn’t draw in any air at all.

“Marie-Terese.”

She shook herself and looked at the screen. “Yes, Father?”

“…and therefore, I shall…” The priest paused. “Excuse me?”

“You said my name?”

A frown appeared on his profile. “No, my child. I did not. But for your sins, I shall decree that…”

Marie-Terese looked around, even though there was nothing to see but the wood paneling and the red velvet curtain.

“…te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”