Chapter 9T
he solitary drive to the simple clapboard church in town for Mass and the scant handful of souls scattered among the pews, serve as Rita’s daily ration of sorrow. She misses most of all the convent’s morning ritual, each of the sisters’ prayers amplifying the others; misses that sense of buoyancy with which she began her days. These parishioners (mostly women, mostly old) keep their prayers to themselves, eyes closed, clutching their rosary beads, looking as if they’re having a fierce conversation with God.
She’s tried to get Connie to come along, but she doesn’t seem interested in church, or much else for that matter. Rita would love to take the girls with her, but they always look so peaceful asleep. Ceci, of course, is anything but when she’s awake, and Anna seems entirely
