Amelia's Children

Chapter 3

On Sunday morning I drove an hour to attend mass at Our Lady of Lourdes, one of only three Catholic churches within a hundred mile radius of Laurel Hill. It was not an easy thing to get away from my parents that morning. It may have been my father who could not understand my career choices, but it was my mother who could never accept my new religion. In her mind Catholicism was synonymous with idolatry. The statues, the stained glass windows, the scripted prayers, and the Eucharist were all odious to her evangelical mind. It didn't matter how many times I told her I was still a Christian, that I still believed in Jesus, she remained absolutely convinced that I had set myself on a path that would lead me straight to hell. But I was not going to give it up. It was the one thing from my life in California that I could still hold onto, and I would not let it go. And besides that, I loved it. There was something about the formality, the ceremony, the sense of reverence when I walked into the sanctuary, that spoke to me on a very deep level. Despite my mother's conviction that the Catholic faith was a dead faith, when I went to mass I felt a closeness to God that I had never experienced as a child in the Baptist church.

So this morning I found myself in a small church, more of a chapel really, just off of Highway 119, looking forward to feeling for just one hour like I was actually home. But of course it wasn't home, really. It was not my community. The men and women who knelt beside me were people I had never seen before in my life. They did not know my parents. They had not been my school teachers and babysitters when I was a child. I would never stop for a quick chat with them as I poured their coffee at Rick and Rhonda's. Many of them did not even know each other. Many were just like me, driving for miles to partake of the Body and the Blood and then returning to their little towns dotted with Baptist and Pentecostal churches, but nothing for the handful of devout Catholics who lived there. They were strangers to me, and also strangers to each other. But they were my people. Or at least the closest thing I had to that.

After mass I quietly got into my car and began the long drive home. By one thirty I was starving and still ten minutes outside of Laurel Hill, so I pulled into the next fast food restaurant I passed. Given the choice of eating alone in a restaurant or eating in my car, I opted to go inside where at least I would have the luxury of a table. I ordered a burger, fries, and a medium iced tea and found a quiet place by the window where I could sit and eat. Just before I took my first bite of burger the door opened and I glanced over to look at the person who had just come in. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was him.

He saw me as well, and waved before going to the counter to order. I waved back and tried hard not to come across as a giggly schoolgirl. But playing it cool proved much more difficult when he turned and started walking in my direction with his tray.

"Hello again."

"Hello." I hoped my voice did not sound as shaky as my knees felt.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"No, it's just me. Have a seat if you'd like."

"Thank you." He smiled at me and once again I had that sensation that he understood me completely and that he was the only person in the world who did.

I shook off the feeling, reminding myself that I didn't even know him. Had never even had a real conversation with him.

"So, you come to my restaurant two days in a row, and then I see you here today. I'm beginning to think you're stalking me."

He laughed and again I caught a glimpse of the shy boy that lurked just under the surface, covered up by the image he presented to the world. "I promise I'm not stalking you. This place is a few minutes from my hotel, that's all."