“No, not physically. Nothing like that. But she was controlling, overbearing, and she could be cold at times, cruel even.”

That is not the Moony who raised me. She was no-nonsense, but she was never cruel. “And Damien told you all this?”

He shrugs. “Not just him. I hear things, you know. I talk to a lot of people in this town. Small towns are like their own reality shows.”

I knew Eric had no shortage of people to shoot the shit with around here.

“And then there was that unfortunate incident her senior year.”

“What incident?”

“She disappeared for a while. Everyone was real tight-lipped about it, most of all your grandmother. No one really knows where she went or why, but the speculation is that she was hospitalized, had her first breakdown.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

He shrugs again, leans back in his chair and feeds Deena a piece of cookie from the plate he set in the middle of the table. “At least four months.”

My teacup begins to tremble in my hands. I set it down and bury my hands in my lap.

“She wasn’t the same when she came back, that I know for sure. Never really recovered, did she?”

I shake my head. No, she didn’t. “And after?”

“She came back, graduated, but kept to herself. She left shortly after. Finally ran.” He takes a loud sip of his tea. “And then there was the scandal—or nearly so. And they ended up shutting the whole school down a few years later.”

“Scandal?”

“One of the teachers—a nun—accused one of the priests of…how shall I put this? Misconduct with a minor.” He rolls his eyes. “The school was aptly named Our Lady of Infinite Sorrows.”

I almost gag on my tea, the obituary I found for a priest from the school’s faculty flashing through my mind. “What are you saying?”

“I mean, they never proved anything. The woman quietly disappeared up north somewhere—Sister Margaret Scott. She was the real tragedy if you ask me. A few years after she left the order, they found her body. She’d been shot while out walking her dog. Her case eventually went cold.”

I take this in while I sip my tea. It is another name I can add to my online search.

“But the damage was already done. They shipped the priest off to another school or some distant monastery—wherever the Catholic church puts their bad seeds. And then the building caught fire; the whole thing burned right down to the foundation one night.”

“Fire?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It was empty, fortunately. The fire department claimed it was arson, but no charges were ever pressed. They closed up shop after that. Chose not to rebuild. Which screams of guilt if you ask me.”