41. DARLING, SIT DOWN. I’M ABOUT TO RUIN YOUR DAY.
DARLING, SIT DOWN. I’M ABOUT TO RUIN YOUR DAY.
By the time I pushed open the door to The Oily Cat, the strain in my shoulders had begun to ease.
The clatter of dishes and the sound of familiar voices grounded me.
Unlike the confessional, this place made no promises of redemption.
It dealt in truth, and right now, that’s all I wanted.
They were all here: Violet, Maeve, Elona, Emil, and Nell.
Gathered around our usual table beneath the rusted wall sconce. Just seeing them steadied me.
I slid into the seat at the head of the table, my hand curling around the glass of bourbon waiting for me, the ice already beginning to melt.
The burn as I swallowed was searing, and exactly what I needed.
We were here to talk about Father Frederick, and there was no room left for hesitation.
Before I addressed the table, I leaned toward Maeve.
“We’re skipping Mass tomorrow.” I whispered.
She raised a brow, “All of us?”
I nodded. “You, me, and the girls. We’re staying in.
Elona will keep an eye on Violet. I don’t want them near that church while he’s still prowling.
” Staying close to the Oily Cat would buy us time and space to figure things out.
We couldn’t keep pretending everything was normal when it very clearly was not.
Violet sipped her wine as Elona shifted closer, her attention flicking between us with curiosity. Emil leaned back in his chair, relaxed, while beside him, Nell rested a steady hand on his back, thumb moving in slow, absent circles between his shoulders. She looked at me then and gave a small nod.
My cue to begin.
“We need to talk about Father Frederick.” I said, setting my glass down. The thought of the girls, of what I’d learned, felt like rot running through me and left me feeling sick. “Some things have come to light; things you all need to hear.”
Maeve’s expression tightened as her eyes roved around the table, locking briefly with each of us in turn, anger and disbelief simmering just beneath. “It’s worse than we thought. The things he’s been doing . . . they’re sick.” She added.
Elona leaned forward, her eyes flashing with that familiar fire. “I always knew something was off. He’s always watching, always lurking. I could never trust a man who hides behind a collar.”
Violet broke her silence. “I get it, Elona, but not all of them are like that. Father Cyrus, he’s a good man.
He actually helps people.” She exhaled hard, and something in her eyes hardened.
“But Father Frederick . . . he makes my skin crawl.” She shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the unsettling feeling, crossing her arms over her chest.
Unease circled through the room. “Maeve,” I said, voice taut. “Tell them what Carl said.”
She hesitated for a moment, taking a slow sip of her wine before speaking. “Aye. So, it all started last Saturday when Carl was talkin’ about Father Frederick. Apparently, there’s a whole lot of gossip goin’ around the mines about him.”
Nell’s brow furrowed. “Gossip?”
“Aye, but not the usual kind.” Maeve continued, keeping her voice firm, as she was trying to keep the frustration from bubbling over. “Carl said the lads have been whisperin’ about him for weeks. They say he’s been showin’ . . . an interest in the younger girls, in a way that’s not exactly holy.”
Nell’s face twisted. “Are you saying he’s preying on them? A priest?”
“For fuck’s sake.” Emil said in disgust, running his hand over his face.
Maeve nodded slowly, her lips pressed tightly together. “I didn’t want to believe it either. But the more I heard, the more it made sense. Carl said he’s been spotted late at night, sneakin’ around, lurkin’ outside the brothel.”
My fingers tapped a rhythm on the table, my mind spinning.
“That’s the thing . . . it’s not just town gossip.
” I pulled the crumpled newspaper article from my bag and laid it on the table for everyone to see.
“I’ve seen the way he watches Violet. It’s like he wants to possess her.
” The scrap of paper drew everyone’s gaze to it like a magnet.
Maeve looked at it for a long second before turning away, visibly uncomfortable.
Emil’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he studied the article. “If he’s been coming around here . . . watching you girls . . . then we’ve got a problem. Men like that don’t stop.”
Elona shoved her plate aside, her face pale. “And no one’s doing anything? He’s a priest. Aren’t people supposed to trust him?”
I let out a dry laugh. “Exactly. They trust him, that’s how he gets away with it.”
Nell’s intense gaze met mine. “So, what do we do? We can’t just let this keep happening. The girls won’t be safe.”
I opened my mouth, but Emil beat me to it. “We watch him,” he said. “Quietly. We keep track. Where he goes, who he talks to. If he steps out of line again, we bring it into the light.”
“And if bringing it to light doesn’t work,” I offered, “. . . there are other ways.”
We all nodded. A shared burden, and an unspoken promise that the next time Father Frederick looked at one of our girls, he wouldn’t get the chance to do it again.
I smiled grimly. “Good. Now let’s eat before this conversation ruins our appetite completely.”
Emil frowned. "Too late."