Blindside (Michael Bennett 12) - Page 19
Then Mary Catherine let a smile slide across her beautiful face. “She used a few words that we don’t allow in this house and the nuns at Holy Name would usually frown upon. Only in this case, Sister Sheilah backed her up. She looked at the reverend and said, ‘Let’s see you use that quote on TV, you jackass.’”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Mary Catherine said, “It was quite the scandal at school today. Things have quieted down now.”
Trent saw me and rushed over to give me a hug. He looked up at me with that sweet face and said, “Michael Sedecki and some of his friends said you were a racist.”
“That seems like an odd thing to say to you.”
“I pointed out to them that I’m black and I have a black sister, a Korean sister, and a Hispanic sister. They said it didn’t matter. Then they said I was com-compli …”
Mary Catherine offered, “Complicit?”
Trent said, “Yeah. Exactly. What’s that mean, anyway?”
I said, “It means the kids were just being stupid.” I kissed him on his head and hugged him. Nothing I had seen as a cop had ever affected me like the smallest injury to my children. Physically or emotionally.
When Trent hustled away to do his homework, I said to Mary Catherine, “Now, what exactly happened with the Reverend Caldwell?”
“Sister Sheilah dealt with him.”
I laughed out loud. No one had ever crossed Sheilah twice. At least not by choice.
Mary Catherine snuggled in close to me and wrapped her arms around my midsection. “This will be like a vacation. I can have you all to myself tomorrow.”
I said, “I, ummm …”
She stepped back to look at me.
I blurted, “I’ll be back at work full-time tomorrow.” I held my breath.
Mary Catherine didn’t say a word. That was worse than anything else she could say or do. I was in real trouble.
CHAPTER 23
I WAS STUCK. I knew better than to chase after Mary Catherine immediately. She needed to calm down. Not that I would ever say that aloud. She once told me she felt it was in her DNA to blow up, then take a short time to calm down. This was a textbook example of one of those times.
I ducked into the dining room, where Ed
die, Ricky, Trent, and the twins, Fiona and Bridget, were all in various stages of homework. The long dining room table served multiple purposes. With ten kids, any house or apartment would feel like one of those tiny houses on TV.
A big rule in our house: homework was to be done before dinner unless there were extenuating circumstances. That included basketball practices, dance lessons, and after-school meetings. But not TV or playing on a cell phone.
This was a rare night, with none of those things occurring. All the kids greeted me with smiles and waves. I was rarely much help with their very specific homework assignments, but I was great for moral support.
I sat on the couch and knew better than to turn on the news. I gazed out the wide windows to catch a glimpse of the Hudson River.
Chrissy hopped onto the couch next to me. She didn’t say anything. Just smiled and started reading a book, about a young girl who volunteered after 9/11. I liked to see her read non-fiction books occasionally.
I could tell when she was really concentrating and when she was faking it. When concentrating, her brow furrowed. She could really focus. When she was faking it, her eyes darted around the room and she finished a page every six minutes.
I said, “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”
“I don’t feel like doing my reading for today. I keep trying, but I just can’t get excited about it.”
“Do you like the book?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s really good. I just don’t like the way people have been talking about you. I don’t understand why people are mad at you.”
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