‘You mustn’t turn your back on her, Natalia. You must reach out to her.’
She didn’t want to meet his eye, fearing he would see her weakness, but Natalia knew she had to. Avoiding his gaze would look shifty or, worse, imply a reluctance to heed his advice. And how she needed his advice. Not since her husband’s sudden death had she felt so rudderless.
‘I know it’s hard. I know she says things that hurt you, that she has sinned and repented, then sinned again … but you are her mother. You were put on this earth to protect and nurture her.’
‘Yes, Father …’
She murmured the words gratefully. Things always seemed so much clearer, so much simpler, after she’d spoken to Father Nowak – he was like your grandfather, father and older brother rolled into one. Smiling, he continued:
‘Now let’s think how we might help Kassie see things more clearly …’
They were huddled together in the empty pews of St Stanislaus Kostka church, talking in hushed, conspiratorial tones. St Stanislaus was still the most popular church for the Chicago Polonia, a place which reminded them of the old country, and it was usually besieged by those seeking comfort or guidance.
Even though Back of the Yards was a long way away, Natalia always made the effort to come here, sometimes three or four times a week. She was devoted to Father Nowak, loved the traditional services, but she was also partial to the regular social events and charity buffets, in which she could indulge her weakness for the food of her childhood – stuffed cabbage, spiced sausage and plums wrapped in bacon.
Father Nowak – 220 pounds of beard, belly and good humour – had been the heart and soul of the revered church for many years and still attended to his duties and parishioners with the energy and zeal of a young man. His words washed over Natalia now, banishing doubt, illuminating the way forward.
‘Yes, Father, I think if I talk to her, she will come. She has always had a soft spot for this place, for you …’
If this was an exaggeration, it was not a lie. Kassandra had liked coming here as a child and had never said a bad word about Father Nowak. Natalia suddenly wanted the good priest to know this, to know that his efforts on their behalf were not unappreciated. He had always been a tower of strength for Natalia.
‘Good, then that’s agreed. Together, together, Natalia, we can help Kassie see more clearly. To cast off her weakness, her sinfulness, and get well again. Now I think it would be fitting if we were to pray to the Virgin. Will you join me, Natalia?’
Natalia clasped her hands together. The words tripped from her and with each passing moment she felt stronger and more determined. She had allowed herself to be laid low by her daughter’s behaviour, to wallow in self-pity, but now she had a purpose. Now she saw what she must do.
By hook or by crook, she would bring Kassie back into the fold.