Her lips moved silently, but relentlessly. Head down, her hands clasped together, she was pleading for mercy.
St Stanislaus was all but deserted and Natalia cut a lonely figure among the empty pews. The worshippers had departed and Father Nowak had retired to attend to some administrative matters, much to Natalia’s relief given Kassandra’s sudden, unforgivable departure. She had promised to bring her to heel, to help her connect with the church again, but Natalia’s lack of control, her lack of authority, had been cruelly exposed by her daughter’s disobedience. Nobody had said anything of course, but Natalia was sure they were all talking about her – another black mark against the family. This she could handle, she was used to the elderly housewives gossiping, but it was the look of disappointment on Father Nowak’s face which had cut deep.
Embarrassment had turned to fury, then eventually to despair. She had tried to put her foot down, she had tried to be nice, but nothing was working. She felt helpless, alone, and not for the first time cursed her husband for departing this life so early, leaving her to soldier on by herself. As ever when these dark thoughts assailed her, she turned to God. She had always been a dutiful Christian, raising money for the church, going on peace marches, praying for the Holy Father every day, and she felt sure that she would not be deserted in her hour of need. So she prayed fiercely, relentlessly, mouthing the words that would bring her – and Kassie – salvation.
But somehow they weren’t landing tonight. The wind had picked up steadily throughout the service, as it often did in Chicago, whistling through the huge church. Wood creaked, doors banged, shutters turned on their hinges – during the service Father Nowak had had to turn the volume up on his microphone to be heard above the racket. Since then, the ferocity of the wind had only increased. Natalia wasn’t one to be paranoid, but it seemed tonight as though the more she prayed, the more violent the wind became. Was it possible God was angry with her? For her failures? For her weakness?
Bang! A shutter slapped the fabric of the church once more, making Natalia jump. She raised her voice, saying the words out loud now, fighting nature’s interruption. Bang! Bang! The response was swift and violent, the volume rising another notch. Now the wind was shrieking through the church, seeking out the tiny gaps and cracks, ruffling hymnals, blowing newsletters up into the air. Clamping her eyes shut, Natalia persevered, calling out now for God’s mercy, for his guidance. Bang! Bang! Bang!
Suddenly Natalia found herself on her feet, her nerve failing her. Looking around at the creaking doors, the flapping shutters, she suddenly felt unaccountably scared, as if she was in danger, as if the church might suddenly collapse in on itself. For a moment, she thought about calling for Father Nowak, then suddenly she turned and fled for the exit.
Bursting out on to the street, she was immediately knocked backwards, the wind roaring directly over her. It was starting to rain, big drops landing with a splat on the stone steps in front of her. Pulling her scarf around her face, Natalia hurried away down the road.
She had come here seeking salvation, but had found only anger and violence.