Chapters (49)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Books By Natasha Madison
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Epilogue One
- Epilogue Two
- ONLY ONE KISS SNEAK PEEK
- Books By Natasha Madison
- Acknowledgments
I walk down the stairs and see that a light is on. Peeking my head in, I see Father Rolly placing papers on the chairs that are set up in a circle. “Knock, knock,” I say, and he looks up, his white hair falling onto his forehead and his face lighting up with a smile.
“Caroline,” he says and gestures for me to enter the room.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, Father.” I smile at him and look around. “I was looking for Murielle.” Gesturing to her office, I see the door is open, but she isn’t behind her desk.
“She isn’t here,” he says and then sits down in one of the steel chairs. “She had to move to Vancouver to take care of her ailing sister,” he says, and my stomach sinks even more. “Did you need something?”
I try to think of something, and I even look down while my heart beats fast and my chest starts to hurt, tears starting to sting at my eyes. “No,” I say, ignoring his question and smiling. “I was …” I can’t even come up with a good excuse.
“You know that you can talk to me, right?” he says, and I drop down on one of the chairs. “You’ve been coming to us for the past four years, and I know she’s helped you when times are tough.”
I put my hand to my mouth to try to stop the tears from coming, but no matter how much I fight it, they just pour out. “I lost my job.” The worry comes over his face. “I’m looking for another one,” I say, “but I was hoping she could help me out with some bread, butter, and some milk.” I hold my head high and take a deep inhale. “But it’s okay,” I say, getting up. “We’ll see you Sunday.” I smile. There isn’t much I believe in since my life went downhill, but every single Sunday, we come to service, and every single Sunday, I say the same prayer, hoping that someone, anyone is listening to me.
“Do you have some time to help me?” he says, and I look at him. “We have the AA and NA meetings back here every day. Murielle usually helps me, but I’ve been doing it by myself.”
“Of course,” I say even though I need to get out of here and start looking for a job. “What can I do to help?”
“You can start the coffeepot and then fix the table in the back with white Styrofoam cups. There is a basket of sugar in the kitchen.” He points at the door at the end of the room.