James 4:7
Friday 14th December: Donna sipped her coffee. It was mid afternoon. Partners Diner in Agawam was quiet. She looked across at Father Seb. She felt easier with him now. He wore the half-smock of a postulant Franciscan. He'd atoned she thought. He deserved her compassion. Judge not, the bible said. And what did she do all day every day but judge people. It was her job after all. Being a cop.
She watched as he talked. She always found she made more progress if she let people talk. He was speaking of Mary Young.
"Why did she marry him in the first place?"
"She loved him," she answered easily.
"Bob Young was not the most charismatic of men."
Donna laughed. "Shame on you Father Seb. I was just thinking we shouldn't judge one another."
Seb grimaced bravely with grim resignation. "Seems I'm not perfect."
Donna raised her eyes from her coffee. "No. You aren't are you?" she said, and watched the hurt in him and immediately regretted her words. "But let's go with your theory. What if she had to get married because she was pregnant?"
"You're serious?"
"Why not? She had lovers later. Why not then? Her eldest boy, Jenny's brother Michael, was premature."
Father Seb was astonished. "You have been busy," he said.
"Just thorough. Beats me though."
Seb raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Why not an abortion rather than marry someone you don't love?" She sipped her coffee again, then put down her cup and frowned. "Though abortions aren't so easy today with groups like the Army of God around."
"How can you be sure she didn't love him?" Seb asked. Then he frowned, "The Army of God: Who are they?"
"The people who kill doctors. They advocate 'waging war' as the only way to end abortion in the U.S. - Doctors they've killed appear on their website with a line through their names."
"Sick." Seb frowned at his own emotive reaction. "Sad I mean."
"Yes but back then it was easier perhaps. As easy anyway." Donna paused, momentarily confused. It was her turn to frown. "Oh perhaps not. I don't know really."
Seb smiled gently. "I don't imagine it was ever easy to have an abortion."
"On the other hand, if she'd not wanted an abortion, she could have been an unmarried Mom."
Seb bit his tongue, responding moderately, and wanting to mean it. "Not so easy either. People find that very tough. Bringing up a child on their own I mean."
"But they do it. The U.S. is full of single parent families."
Seb smiled again. "I'm not arguing with you," he said. Then more incautiously, "Being a single parent is infinitely preferable to killing your unborn child."
Donna looked at him in silence for a moment, then something in her snapped. She slammed her coffee cup down and slapped the table with the flat of her hand. "I'll not take that from you." Her anger was a raw thing, unbidden. And she was very angry. "Those sentiments are what drive the killers in the Army of God." She was furious and felt like hurting him. "How dare you say anything. You are in no position to judge anyone given your recent behaviour."
Seb sighed. "Of course. I apologise." He felt profoundly sad, as if he were drowning; he was that alone.
Donna hadn't noticed, the anger washed away from her; like emerging from a river, she felt cleansed. She spoke calmly once more. "Anyway it works as an hypothesis. A woman bound by convention. Outwardly prim and proper. Driven by an unhappy marriage entered knowingly into a series of secret affairs. A sham and vapid life which she ended of her own volition, triggering the sequence of events that has culminated in the Trish Hartnett murder trial."
Seb thought that a bit harsh. But he didn't say so. Instead he nodded three or four times, his eyes focused on the table. Then, to cover his discomfort, he called for the check.
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