Page 88 of A Whim and a Prayer

“Did not!” Winifred screamed, so irate she forgot all about the awful scabs itching all over her body. “I loved Sister Marta—she was my friend!” Tears burned beneath her lids for the elderly nun who’d been so kind to her, but she refused to let them fall.

“Did so! Heard Mother Superior tell Sister Colleen that Sister Marta caught the chickenpox after you visited her when she was so sick, and it made her worse. So there—you killed her!”

Winifred’s hands balled into fists at her sides, itching more than the stupid pox to just deck Mary Lou right on the spot. Blue blazes, all she’d done was sneak in to give Sister Marta the flowers she’d picked!

“Just like you killed Petey when you gave him those chocolate kisses.”

“Nooo! I loved Petey!” Winifred shouted, trembling with rage as she fought to restrain the tears. But after the pain of losing Sister Marta and now the mention of Petey—the stray mutt who was her only friend on the playground—the dam broke. She loved Petey—and he loved her—but for some reason, he never came around anymore after she’d shared the chocolate kisses Mrs. Dennehy had given her.

Mary Lou leaned in with hands on her hips. “You loved that old mutt, but he died, too, because you’re nothing but poison “Win-i-yuck,” she said with a mocking sway, dragging out the cruel nickname she’d given her. “Everything you love shrivels up and dies.”

“Poison, poison, Win-i-yuck is poison!”

Over and over they chanted the hateful slur till she finally blew, busting Mary Lou in the chops.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Sobbing, Winnie pummeled the pillow in her sleep, only to jerk awake at the touch of a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Winnie …”

For several wild-eyed seconds, she could only stare, gaze glassy and pulse pumping, her mind so foggy she wasn’t sure who had touched her. And then, in one wild beat of her heart, she thrust herself at her mother with a wracking sob, and just like that, she was back in the arms of Mrs. D, that crazy and wonderful volunteer at the orphanage who had claimed Winnie for her own.

“Oh, Mrs. D,” she cried, burrowing in so hard, she could barely breathe, not sure if it was all a dream or reality. “I am so sorry, so very sorry.”

For not listening to you.

For not believing you.

For not loving you like I should.

Heaving uncontrollably, Winnie looked up with swollen eyes and with a sob of sudden awareness despite the fog in her mind, she flung herself back into her mother’s arms, stunned to realize for the very first time, that in her deepest pain and heartbreak, it was really Mrs. D she needed after all.

Chapter Sixty

Charity didn’t know who was crying harder—her or Winnie. All she did know was that a dam had broken in her relationship with her daughter, and no matter how awful the reason—one of Charity’s most fervent prayers had just been answered.

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God …

Tears stung as she rocked Winnie in her arms, soothing with tender touches and words of love, head tucked against her daughter’s flaxen curls while watery sobs dampened her dress.

“S-Sooo … s-sorry, Mama … s-sooo very s-sorry …”

“It’s okay, Winnie, I love you no matter what, sweetheart …” Charity crooned softly in her daughter’s ear, Winnie’s slip of the tongue in calling her Mrs. D winging her thoughts back to a time when a cross-eyed orphan once clutched her as tightly, begging her to love her no matter what …

No matter what …

More tears leaked from Charity’s eyes.

Just like God had done for me all those many years ago …

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Charity whispered when Winnie’s sobs had subsided and she lay limp in her arms, “I promise you, darling.”

Winnie gave a weak shake of her head, her speech slow and sluggish. “How can you promise that, Mama? I d-defied you and Daddy by … d-doing something really, really s-stupid … and have to l-live with the shame and humiliation for the rest of my l-life. And now, you and D-Daddy will n-never trust m-me again …” Her lament wandered into another woeful wail that tugged a tiny smile to Charity’s lips.

Plucking one of Mitch’s clean handkerchiefs from her pocket, she dabbed at Winnie’s sodden face before pressing a kiss to her unruly curls, thinking her daughter was undeniably gifted in the field of drama. “Not the rest of your life, darling, I promise.”

Winnie pulled away to clutch Charity’s arms with saucer eyes veined with red, the uphill pinch of her brows conveying that for her, this was the end of the world. “Yes, the rest of my life, Mama, because d-don’t you see? I’m a … a failure—as a daughter, a cousin, and a friend. Even as a D-Dennehy,” she said with a ragged heave, swiping at her eyes until she had raccoon smudges from yesterday’s mascara. “Not even the same blood and the w-worst of the l-lot.”

Biting back a grin, Charity lifted her daughter’s chin with a gentle finger, face ducked to offer her a gentle smile. “Uh, not even close, sweetheart. Have you forgotten Henry?”