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She let out a breath. Well, if it was forgiveness that he needed, then she knew where he could get it.
She dragged herself out of the kitchen, leaving her pan out on the counter, having been scrubbed clean a long time ago.
"Glen?"
He lifted his chin a little to show he was listening from under the hat that covered his eyes from her.
"I… I hate to ask, but I need a favor."
"Hm?"
She had already noticed that he'd gotten himself a new gun. A different one. She didn't want to ask where it had come from, and if she had asked, he wouldn't have answered. Or perhaps she was afraid that he would.
"Tomorrow, the twins and I need a ride into town."
"What's the occasion?"
"It's Sunday, Glen."
He seemed to take her meaning. Which was good, because if he questioned her on it, she wasn't sure what she was going to say. After all, it hadn't mattered when the last four Sundays had come around. Why should this one be different?
She let out the breath she'd been holding when he didn't ask. He just nodded. She went back into the kitchen. There was cleaning still to be done. Now that she'd finally broached the subject with him, her nerves were starting to cool down. She could get back to what she needed to do.
Glen still hurt all over. They were a horse short. Always had been, but he didn't want to lose his excuse to be close to Catherine. Now, as she sat in front of him with two little children trailing alongside, he knew they needed more space.
The sun was just beginning to rise as they got into town. The bell in the church-tower was a big one, and they hadn't heard it ring yet, so he supposed they were either early, or very late. Part of him hoped that they had missed it. He had no business in a church.
But it was important to her. He could hear it in her voice. In the way that she hesitated before she asked him to come along. She wanted him to come.
It had been a long time for him, since he'd been to a service. A hell of a long time. He didn't know for sure, but from the way that the twins didn't have proper church clothes, he guessed it had been about as long for Catherine.
So they would have to share the experience together. He had to pretend that he belonged, because if he showed any doubts, then Catherine would lose it. She had been on-edge since he got back.
Glen didn't like how easy pulling that trigger had been. Like slipping into an old pair of blue jeans that still fit just right. The feeling had spread. He needed to wait until things cooled down a little more. A few more days, and then he'd be able to hit the bar. With the Smith and Wesson he'd taken from the doorman, and Catherine's Spencer, he wouldn't have too much trouble. Not if he did it right.
The church-bells pulled him out of his reverie. Reminded him of what he was here for. It wasn't time for him to be thinking about that. He had to be strong for Catherine now. She needed him, and he would be there for her.
Christ knows, she needed someone to be there for her at least once in her life.
Catherine's palms were sweating. She hadn't realized how scary it would be. Being back in town, it happened once in a while, but with the twins? Never. And she hadn't ever once stepped foot in this church. She hadn't expected how much of a difference it would make to her, but the fear seemed all that much stronger because she'd been living there near a decade and had never once met the preacher.
He was an older man, she saw as she crossed through the doorway beside Glen. He smiled at her as she passed him on the way to the pews.
"Good morning, ma'am. Sir."
Glen gave a curt nod beside her. He was as uncomfortable as she was, she could tell. But she appreciated how much he was trying. The place was already half-full by the time they settled into seats near the back of the place. Catherine found herself folding her hands and speaking a quiet prayer before she knew what she was doing.
She had a thousand things she wanted. Things that she hoped God could give to her. But she wasn't praying for those things, she realized. The only thing she wanted, the only thing she would as for, was for Glen to be alright.
Please, Lord—let Glen be alright again. Give him the forgiveness he needs, let him know that he's a good man. That I believe in him. That he'll be okay. And let my children know that I love them.
Amen.
She sat back and opened her eyes in time to see the preacher making his way up to the front. It had been a long time since she had seen a sermon.
But she knew, already, that it was going to be exactly the one she needed to hear. It seemed as if it always was.
Thirty
