Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-one

Sunday morning. Time for church.

While this ritual was one I always regarded with dread, it was particularly unwelcome today. It had only been a few days since Derek died, and I’d been lucky enough to avoid the newspaper and town gossip. This wasn’t something I could ignore while at church and the thought of having to deal with all the whispers and judgmental stares made me want to fake an illness to stay home, like I did when I was a kid. But I also knew, just like when I was a kid, Lola Flor would see right through me and I’d have to deal with her lecture all day, so I dragged myself out of bed and threw on my Sunday best.

When we arrived, the Calendar Crew were already in our pew, so we walked down to them. As luck would have it, our pew was near the front of the church, so we were subjected to all the stares and whispers as we made our way over. My grandmother marched forward, her head held high, and I imitated her. My aunt lagged behind, obviously shocked at our reception.

It only got worse near the end of the service, when the priest said, “And to our brothers and sisters who are ailing or no longer with us, including JoAnn Doblecki, Martin Johnson, and Derek Winter. Let us pray.”

We all bowed our heads and prayed along with him, but I could feel the stares of the congregation like icy pinpricks in my back.

After the service, we gathered in the church basement as usual, waiting for our turn to chat with Father Santiago. He’d been with our parish since I was a kid, and was well-loved in the community. I used to have a standing appointment to go running with him every Tuesday, something I hadn’t taken him up on since I’d been back. Maybe it was time to start again.

Mary Ann Randall, the head of the PTA, and her legion of soccer moms were hogging up his time as usual. What was unusual was when Father Santiago made eye contact with me and tried to make his way over, they blocked his path and refused to let him leave on the pretense of asking him more questions about “his lovely homily.”

I rolled my eyes and made my way over to the table laid out with goodies the parishioners had brought. My aunt’s tray was usually the first one emptied, but this morning it sat untouched before her as her “friends” avoided eye contact, filling up on nearby (read: less delicious) treats instead.

The Calendar Crew must’ve noticed because Ninang April strode toward her and made a big show of picking up a piece of ensaymada and taking a huge bite out of it.

“Can you believe I get this whole tray to myself? How blessed I must be!”

Ninang Mae and June soon joined her, and their exclamations of delight soon drove a few curious bystanders over to the table. Armed with mugs of tsokolate, the Filipino hot chocolate my grandmother blended herself, and plates of ensaymada, our area soon became the social hotspot it usually was.

Father Santiago managed to pull himself away from the PTA Squad and strolled over toward me. I handed him his usual cup of tsokolate made with sugar substitute and a half piece of ensaymada, which brought a smile to his face. He already looked younger than his fiftyish years, but that simple gesture erased even more years from his face. I felt better just being by him. He’d come over from the Philippines over thirty years ago, yet his rich, calming voice still carried the accent of his youth.

“So Lila, you’ve had an interesting couple of days, it seems.”

I grimaced. “Not the word I’d use, but I guess you could say that. Who was the first to tell you? Was it one of the aunties,” I gestured toward my godmothers, “or the PTA Squad?” I nodded toward the gaggle of moms scowling at me for daring to talk to the community priest.

He smiled. “Neither. It was your tita.” He waved at my aunt, who lit up and waved back.

“Tita Rosie? Really?”

“After you got arrested. She was frantic and came to me for counsel.”

I couldn’t believe it. She loved Father Santiago as much as the rest of the community and held him in high esteem. But my aunt wasn’t a talker. And, knowing her, she wouldn’t want to bother him. Not that he’d consider her a burden, but that’s how Tita Rosie was—game to listen to everyone else’s problems without judgment, but keeping her cards close to her chest. The fact she’d confided in our priest drove home the seriousness of the allegations.

The crowd around my aunt was dispersing—her tray was finally empty. As she wiped her hands on a dish towel, I realized she’d be heading over soon, so I needed to talk fast.

“Father, what did she say to you?”

“Lila, you know I can’t tell you that. My parishioners come to me in confidence. I would never betray them.”

I sighed. “I know. I’m just so worried about her. All she’s done since this thing with Derek happened is fret at home about the restaurant. And now me, I guess. I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean? I gave you that suspect list days ago,” Ninang June’s voice boomed behind me, making both me and the priest jump. “Sorry, Father. Honestly, Lila, haven’t you started investigating yet? What happened to all those plans you made yesterday?”

Father Santiago looked alarmed. “June, what are you saying? Didn’t the police say Derek was murdered? You can’t have Lila investigate, it could be dangerous!”

My godmother waved her hand dismissively. “Ay, Father, you think I would send my own goddaughter into trouble? Her mother would never forgive me, God rest her soul. I just thought she could ask a few questions is all. You know, eat at the other restaurants Derek reviewed. That’s not asking too much, diba?”

For once, I agreed with her. “She’s right, Father. Someone planted drugs in my locker. And not like, a tiny baggie of weed. They’re trying to get me put away on drug trafficking. You know my family. You know why this is so messed up. The police aren’t even looking into other suspects since they think they have enough evidence against me.”

Father Santiago didn’t look convinced, so I added, “Besides, I never go to these places alone and all I’m doing is asking questions at these restaurants. What can they do to me?”

He shook his head. “I hope you’re right, Lila. For your sake, and your family’s.” As he left, he made the sign of the cross, which I’m sure was meant to be reassuring.

It wasn’t. And now I had to face lunch with Janet.