I draped my arm across her shoulders. “Alex, if Joanne is insane enough to throw you over for me, then she’s too crazy for me to want to be with.”

“See, I told you that we were the best people to discuss the matter. Cordelia has this adultery thing. I don’t guess she ever got over her dad sleeping around.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, with a nod of my head in the direction of the clinic.

“Uh-oh, C.J. been moralizing at you?”

“A bit.” To put it mildly.

“I’ll talk to her.” She stood up, went to her car, reached in and picked up some books that were on the seat. “Just give her these books and tell her we had a lovely chat in the parking lot. And that you and she can have dinner tonight.”

“Not likely.”

“Like everyone else, Cordelia has her little overreactions. But she’s remarkably tractable when shown the error of her ways. Tell her I said hi and that I will talk to her, she doesn’t need to talk to me.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks, Alex.”

“No problem. I’d talk to her at some point anyway.”

“Not just for that. For…I don’t know…not coming after me with a .22.”

“I can’t shoot straight. Take off my glasses and I can’t even see the side of a barn.”

She set the books down next to me, then put her arms around me and hugged me, resting her head against my chest. “So I don’t have much choice but to be reasonable and mature.”

“Sure you do. You have lots of choices. I don’t know that I could make the one you’ve made. You can’t tell me this doesn’t hurt.”

“Hugging you? No, it’s lots of fun.”

“You know what I mean. It would be very easy for you to hate me. It’s a lot harder to put your arms around me, knowing that…” I started to say that I’d been holding Joanne only a few hours ago, but I backed away from so blunt a contrast.

“That Joanne was sleeping with you last night?”

“Yes.”

“Hell, Micky,” she said, “sometimes we have to choose to forgive or to hate. I honestly believe I’d much rather forgive Joanne than hate her. You, too.”

“Some things are unforgivable.”

“That hasn’t happened yet. Not to me. You and Joanne live with it. But I don’t. It’s unforgivable to beat a child.”

“No one beat me. A few spankings. I survived.”

“Micky, sometimes the worst violence isn’t physical,” she said softly.

Alex tightened her arms around me. I rested my chin on the top of her head.

“Now,” she continued after a moment, “I hadn’t intended to get so serious. I thought we could stick to discussing sex.”

“We probably should have.”

We were rudely interrupted by a protester yelling at us. “Would you stop that pornographic display?” the offended man shouted. “There are women and children here.”

Alex and I, needless to say, continued hugging.

“Micky, even if it gets you in trouble with Cordelia, can I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

“I would really like to offend those people,” she said.

“And?”

“Kiss me, you fool—I’ve always wanted to say that—if we can reach, that is.”

“I’ll slump.”

So Alex and I kissed in the parking lot with about fifteen hard-core conservative bigots watching us. And probably a few nuns.

“Good,” Alex said when we broke off. “Now tonight when Joanne is sitting there, trying to figure out how to tell me about the two of you, I can say, oh, by the way, honey, if you hear any stories about Micky and me kissing on the parking lot of Cordelia’s clinic, well, I just want you to know it’s true. And, yes, I know that the two of you are doing it, but I didn’t let that stop me from carrying out my obligation to offend numerous bigots at every opportunity.”

“Alex, you are fucking incredible,” I laughed.

“And vice versa,” she parried. “Bye, Mick. Maybe you should just give the books to C.J. and smile knowingly. You know how to smile knowingly.”

Alex got into her car.

“So long, Alex. It’s been fun.”

“Yeah, it has. Let’s be friends.”

“I’d like that.” I waved as she pulled out. Joanne would be an idiot to give her up.

All that remained of the protesters were the few stalwart enough to have survived watching two women kiss. I guess they were afraid if enough people saw how much fun we were having, they’d all convert to being queer. Well, it seemed like a good way to prevent abortions to me.

Emma’s silver Mercedes pulled into the lot. For a second I wondered what she was doing here, then I remembered that today was the day for the rescheduled meeting that Aunt Greta and I had so unceremoniously ended before.

We said hello and I explained my presence in the parking lot. She nodded approval at the much diminished protest line. Between Alex, myself, and the shining sun, they were down to about five diehards.

“Come, let’s go to the meeting,” Emma suggested.

“No, not me,” I answered, shaking my head.

“But you have to be there. You defend Cordelia so much better than she can ever do. Come along,” Emma said, decisively taking my arm and leading me into the building.

“But what if Aunt Greta is there?”

“I would welcome it,” she stated, but didn’t elaborate.

We walked together up the stairs to the room where the meeting was to be held. The tables hadn’t been moved from Wednesday. Most of the same people were already there, sitting on the same sides as before.

Only Nurse Peterson was missing from the clinic side. Millie, Elly, and Bernie said hi to me. Cordelia greeted Emma. There was only one chair left on our side. I let Emma take it and ensconced myself on a window ledge to survey the action. I put Cordelia’s books on the next window sill. I would give them to her later.

Father Flynn, with, of course, Aunt Greta, breezed in. She looked around the room, saw me, and set her lips in a hard line.

Father Flynn opened the meeting with a brief welcome. Then Sister Ann read the prepared statement. It was fairly bland and noncommittal. Perfect for the situation. Events were distressing, blah, blah, every effort to help the police, blah, services not to be interrupted, and so forth.

Father Flynn wanted a stronger statement about the heinousness of the crime and hope that the criminal would soon be apprehended. Emma countered with a suggestion that we express confidence in all the staff and volunteers of the various groups in the building. Sister Ann compromised and added both. She read the statement again and both sides seemed vaguely content with it.

“Is there anything else?” Sister Ann asked.

No one said anything. Sister Ann gave a brief nod and the meeting was over. I quickly looked out the window, wanting to avoid any last parting glances with Aunt Greta. A chorus of chairs scraping back told me that people were leaving. I heard Emma’s low voice discussing the next board meeting with Cordelia.

The soft brush of a shoe made me look.

“Michele.” Aunt Greta. She was standing only a few feet from me. “You know you are welcome anytime you care to visit. I’m sure Claude would like to see you.”

Had she changed? Were there pieces and places to her I had never seen? “No,” I answered warily, “I didn’t know that. I never felt very welcome.”

“Well,” she said. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Of course you resented us because Claude and I weren’t LeMoyne and our house wasn’t a large shipyard out in the bayous. I thought you’d outgrow that.”

I studied her, but she wasn’t really looking at me, her eyes focused somewhere behind me. “I guess some little girls never grow up.”

“So I gather. I was only trying to help you,” was her reply.

I’d heard her say that too many times. “Were you? When you hit me with Uncle Claude’s belt until I was black and blue from my shoulders to my knees? Was that supposed to help me?” I retorted bitterly.

“You could have stopped that any time you chose. All you needed to do was apologize. It’s really your own fault for being so stubborn. You needed discipline.”

No, nothing had changed. For one brief moment, when she had come over to me, I had hoped that Aunt Greta had wanted to connect, after all these years, welcome me. That I felt a flash of disappointment surprised me. The eight years I had spent with her seemed such a blur of disappointments. After that I didn’t think she could ever disappoint me again. As we always had, we would only talk at each other, never connect.

“And you had no choice but to beat a child black and blue until she apologized for something she hadn’t done,” I returned, the disappointment eroding into bitterness.

“So you say, Michele. I never hit you that hard.”

“So you say,” I answered tersely, feeling a familiar enervation and disillusionment seeping over me. Leave, just leave, I silently told her. For once leave me alone.

“I did want you to know that I forgive you. For stealing the money when you left,” she added at my uncomprehending look.

“I didn’t steal any money.”

“Of course you did. You needn’t bother denying it.”

“I never stole any money from you,” I repeated.

“Nonetheless, I forgive you.”

“How kind of you to forgive me for something I didn’t do.”

Aunt Greta ignored my sarcasm. She would have her say. “And there is another thing, Michele. I feel it is my duty to tell you this, even though I know it will be painful for you.” She stepped in closer and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “That doctor,” a jerk of her head in Cordelia’s direction, “do you know who she is?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“No, I don’t think you do. I’m sorry to tell you this, but it was her father who caused the accident that killed LeMoyne. I guess trouble runs in her family.”

“I know who she is. And I know what her father did,” I answered.

“You do? How do you know that?” Aunt Greta demanded, taken aback that her announcement didn’t have the impact she had anticipated.