My Darling Love

Chapter 32 – War of Words

"Two dogs strive for a bone and the third one runs off with it."

-Proverb

Her own husband had just called her the name Mary had been battling and battered with for years. So, with that in mind, it is easy to understand Mary's intense hostility that would only grow and multiple beyond measure as the seconds ticked on.

"I wore no ring upon my finger, George, when I lay down for you. The engagement ring my fiancé so graciously bestowed upon me was left on my window sill at home."

There was apparently to be no war of wills for it seemed already over, and George -- for now -- believed he was the victor, for Mary had lowered her sword. With that wicked fire still aflame, Mary hurried out of their room and descended the stairs. She quickly dressed in her coat and hat and opened the front doors. Instead of raising a white flag, she hoisted the skull and cross bones. George who stood at the top landing called after her, asking her intended destination.

"Think of me as already dead, George, and do not worry after me now. I should have thrown myself from the window long ago, but you see, George, I have an awful habit of thinking of others before I think of myself. If I had committed suicide, I would bring sorrow to the ones I love and reward to my husband who would bury me with roses. May I suggest pink, in full bloom; fresh from the garden, like the bouquet I carried the day of our wedding? Could you at least spare me that one indulgence, unless you are in the poorhouse after spending our savings on your WHORE! Oh, wait, that's me! I'm the whore. Let's see, George, if I'm the whore that must make her a fine lady of proper society who just happens to take to bed with a man that is married to someone else and fathered three children, four if you count the one she lost. And here I am, selfish of my own needs and deliberate in my unfair play. What do you know -- I'm not deaf after all! And George, if you could spare the expense, why don't you have my correct title written on my headstone, 'Mary Elizabeth Darling, neglectful wife, devoted mother, filthy whore'."

Mary took to the top steps of the front porch, and George was already behind her, holding her back. He pulled her about the waist, and began dragging her back into the house with her kicking and screaming for him to release her. He stopped momentarily when she whispered, "Don't worry, George, I would never bring it into the house, lest the king slit his own throat with a dagger."

It did not stop him, and when she resisted by holding her legs tensed and straight, he picked her up and hoisted her down on the living room floor with all his might. "What's wrong, George, don't fancy the idea of me taking to bed with another man? Fret not, Peter is back in Paris, or so I'm told, and he took his lovely niece with him, too bad for you, we could have all engaged in our own trysts. You know, me with Peter, you with Vivian, is that not her name, George? Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be no competition for you, just dinner and dancing. That must be what they call it these days."

George was ready for battle, and he raised his sword and without warning thrust it in deep to Mary's body. "Maybe I should let him have at you. Peter was always asking about you, Mary, wanting me to invite you along. I think I might enjoy what he can teach you about how to satisfy a man; there are certain techniques I experienced with others I find you quite lacking in. Others, I did say others, didn't I? There were others, many others that you don't even know about Mary, countless others... Before we were married right up till this very night. In fact, I have been committing adultery since the day we were wed! Go to Peter, Mary, tonight, he is in London still. At least when he's done you'll appreciate what you come home to."

Their voices were raised as the combat raged on. "Others, you say, funny I couldn't tell, always the same for me! Maybe it's you who is lacking in experience, or maybe you're just not swift in your lessons with all those others. And I appreciate what I have, unlike you. Is this home not always well kept, is there not always food on the table cooked to your liking? Do you have clean clothes? Who do I do all that for, George? Whom do I slave for? Certainly not myself."

George would not falter now; he had come too far and so pulled no punches, "You do that for the children. You do everything in your life for the children! You are overly dramatic and very high maintenance, you can make yourself sick and you use it to your advantage. Do you know how many times I sat in hospitals praying by your bedside? The shenanigans you pulled in making me take a ship to retrieve you in New York City was nothing more than a way for me to chase after you. When you found out about my affair, when you found my sister-in-law here in our house, and she told you that I had only left with my mistress on my arm only a moment before, why did you not come straight to the bank and confront me? Any decent wife would at least do that. Worried about what the neighbor's would think?" George sneered, and now Mary shouted as loudly as her voice would carry.

"I could not care less what the neighbors think! Can't you tell? They knew of your affair, too. I told you I have a nasty habit of thinking of others before I think of myself. I was thinking of the embarrassment a scene like that would cause in your place of employment. After something like that you surely would never receive the position of Bank Manager you worked for your whole life! I was thinking of your brother who, according to that whore who I found naked on the floor I now stand on, would have been devastated to miss out on all the fun. For as she told me, your brother Peter likes to watch. I was thinking of my children who need not find such vile and contemptible evidence in their family's parlor. I lugged that rug out of this house myself. And when the deliveryman came calling with the new one, all by myself I carried it in and set it down. I didn't ask you to come rescue me in New York -- Wendy did. And you think me not a decent wife? A decent husband would have let his wife die in peace in her bed after giving his son life, instead of making her suffer years of agony and pain only to recover and be called a whore. The only person I ever took to bed with was my husband. You know, George, everyone told me the vows we made that night in front of God weren't good enough for me to allow you my virtue, and now after all these years I finally know you feel the same. Thank you." Her thanks were the only words softly spoken as she rose from the floor where he had dropped her.

Seeing Mary straighten her coat and reaffix her hat, George retorted, "Well, I suppose your Aunt Millicent was right, the bigger fish would have been the better choice. I'm sure it wouldn't have bothered him one bit when you tossed him aside once you had his children. You'd be a wealthy woman, living in the lap of luxury and have whatever you want and I would have moved to Paris with my brother and found many others just as pretty as you to act out my vile and contemptible behavior with, and they would have loved it, just like Vivian did. And you are correct, Mary, that is her name. I would not feel guilty for being disloyal to you and I would not be on my hands and knees every night begging you to return to the woman that drove me away in the first place! What a fool I am, we both would have been much better off that way. I wish I had never saved you from him that day. I should have just gone to the church and watched you walk down that aisle and marry another. Come to think of it Mary, I wouldn't have gone to the church at all. I told you not to divorce me, but maybe we should pursue that avenue, you know, I can go to Paris and have at my loose women, and you can run around town and earn your title. Now that the children are almost grown up, and you yourself said you would have more of your precious time to share, we can at last enjoy our lives instead of being bound to them. I bet you're thinking the same thing."

George was not a gambling man, and this was why. His most fatal error in cards always came when all the chips were one the table and dealer called the game last hand. "No, George, actually I wasn't. I was thinking before I say anything more that I can never take back, I should go for a walk alone to quiet my mind."

With that, and without another word Mary left down the front steps and out into the cold night. "I hope I don't catch my death, lest you spend another wasted night, praying for my health to return. Although I'm sure you'd prefer to simply be a widower than have to pay the expense of an attorney," she offered before she left him in the parlor.

With her gone, George took to the stairs and vomited in the bathroom. When the door opened an hour later, George was still in there heaving up food he had eaten a month ago. Grandpa Joe knocked to check in on him. "I'll assume it did not go well." George nodded as he wiped the sweat from his face. "What happened?" Grandpa Joe asked helping his disgraced son-in-law stand.

George recounted their entire exchange, word for word, and when it came to the end he finished with, "It was going so well, and then something just..."

"...Just snapped, and then you really had it out and said loads of mean things and you shouted at each other and called each other names and made empty threats you know you have no intention of keeping, like you'll continue cheating and Mary Elizabeth will take another lover to get back at you and all that angry nonsense," Grandpa Joe finished for him as they sat in the parlor. George nodded his head, again sick to his stomach. "Many a true word is said in jest, and many an untrue word said in anger. In the heat of the moment, dark sides best left unseen are revealed, a common mistake when two people who love each other fight. Happens to the best of them, myself included. It had to get worse before it got better, hopefully tonight was the worst." Grandpa Joe swayed on Mary's rocking chair and puffed his pipe.

"I didn't tell Mary Elizabeth what was going on for a few reasons. The first is simple, she already knew. The second was because you're a man and a good provider, and if you feel that you are not getting what you need at home, it's your choice to seek it somewhere else."

George turned his face to see his father-in-law, baffled. "Choice?"

"Yes, choice, George, not a right but a choice. You can choose to stray to another woman or you can choose to stay honorable to your wife and children. Now people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, and I make no judgment on you. I cheated on Mary's mother, too. As a matter of fact, what Millicent said was completely true, only worse. I was having it with a girl that worked in my shop, and my wife and I quarreled something fierce over it. The arrangement I had with that girl meant nothing to me, just another on the side and it was already over before she found out. But just keep the upper hand; I kept that girl working for me, as a way to punish my wife whenever she'd stop in to see me at the bakery. I didn't know it then, but I know now, Mary Elizabeth who was only a small child knew about it. And she would come in with her mother and see this lady working the counter every Saturday..."

There was nothing more to say until Mary arrived home some time later. With a look of steadfast resolve in failure, a blank stare complete with tear soaked cheeks and frown, not to mention undeniable loss evidenced in her eyes, she entered into the home and went to her room. The two men of the house watched her in silence as she retreated up the stairs. She quietly closed her bedroom door so as not to make a sound.

George looked to Grandpa Joe who shrugged his shoulders. "What do I do now?" George asked.

"You are far beyond any help I can offer. All I can advise for you is to keep your tone affable with her and try to control your antagonism. Think before you say something you will regret later, as too many things have already been said that will never be forgotten. You are both speaking out of turn, and like Mary said, the mouth does not work in reverse." Grandpa Joe rose from his rocker and then touched George on his shoulder as if he had overlooked an important detail he son-in-law may find helpful. "Do you want Mary still? You spoke of divorce."

George shook his head without a second thought with an expression that said he would be willing to do anything to prevent that, "No, Joe, I would never divorce Mary, and I would fight her in the highest courts if she sought one herself. No, no, no, no, no. I only said that because I was..."

"Stupid? Thoughtless? Angry? A fool? Imprudent? Being Rash? Being reckless? Vengeful? Hurtful? Cruel? Heartless?" He laughed dryly.

"Doesn't matter George, you said it, so now she thinks it." Grandpa Joe completed yet another of his thoughts out loud, after sitting back down for another minute, "George, tell Mary Elizabeth nothing more of your affair, even if she asks. She knows too much already. You have mentioned terms a woman finds hard to let go of. Competition, more pretty, better off, easier to deal with, beck and call, willing, all about the other woman. Women, George, you told her of other women, other affairs George?" Grandpa Joe shook his head with disapproval, "There was one I know of and you spoke of another, anymore?"

George shook his head, "No, just the two others. I lied again to her."

Grandpa Joe touched his arm and with deepest sincerity, replied, "Do not lie to her George, not one lie must pass from your lips, do you understand? You are only making it worse for yourself. You made her doubt her femininity, and that's not fair. You offered your wife words such as being difficult, neglectful, deliberate, and indecent. You called her a whore for loving you. Who would you rather have -- your mistress or your wife next to you on your deathbed?"

George gave his reply without hesitation, "Mary."

"You must convey that to Mary Elizabeth, for her mind is now clouded in comparisons, even if you swear on your life there are none. You must admit to her, George, that you lied. And you must admit those reasons to yourself before you can ever hope to be forgiven for them. Every single thing you said to her tonight she will remember for the rest of her days, true or untrue. Keep that in mind."

Grandpa Joe retired to the nursery leaving George his bed. "Try again with her in the morning. Trust me when I tell you, if it is not quickly resolved between the two of you, it will begin to affect the children. Whatever your reasons were, you are to remember that is was you who committed the worst wrongs. Blaming Mary to alleviate your guilt will set a very bad example for your sons and an even worse one for your daughter. John and Michael will think it's acceptable to cheat on their wives when they don't get what they want. And Wendy will think it is appropriate if her husband cheats on her and hold her tongue to the point of the insanity you now put Mary in. How would you feel if you found out Wendy's husband was involved with another woman?"

"I'd kill him. In her regard there is no choice, I am her father and she is my only daughter. If I found him with another woman, I'd kill them both," George responded without even having to think about it, and then when he thought about it he added, "Is that how you feel about me?"

"No, because I already knew Mary had accepted it just like her mother did. I was wrong when I had my affair, and so are you. If I truly knew my wife took another man, I would still be sitting in jail for murder. Do you really want Mary to be held and kissed and spend time with another man, even if it's not of the intimate nature? Would you be able to accept Mary sharing herself with another? You couldn't stand it when she gave herself to her children because she was afraid to lose them again, and they are just as much yours as they are hers. Now imagine all that time lost spent with a stranger. And then imagine her telling you, she was thinking of you the whole time." George shook his head, horrified by the image. "Wouldn't make sense to me either," Grandpa Joe continued. "Remember George, you already told Mary turnabout is fair play and declared she should pursue another man's favor. If I were you I would pray there are no other men available and willing."

George removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. He checked his pocket watch and saw the time. "The children are coming in the morning with Harold for church. Best head to bed." George got up and shook his father-in-law's hand.

"George, just one more thing. There is something going on that..." He leaned toward George and then looked about to make sure no one else in the world could hear, "Mary has been very uneasy, frightened somehow, since you moved out. Not that she didn't miss you, because she did -- believe me, and that is truly the reason she wanted you to come home. But there is something more going on with her she wouldn't speak to me about. All I know is, she never wanted to be left home alone." George and his father-in-law stared up the stairs to Mary's bedroom door. Two adulterers worried that a pirate captain -- or worse a valiant knight that would swear his allegiance to her and mean it – thus, attempting to rescue the queen. But for now she was safely locked away in the tower and would remain there for the rest of the night. George went to Grandpa Joe's room, and Grandpa Joe went to the nursery.

In every fairy tale there is a magical kingdom, and in every kingdom there is at least one fairy. In the Darling house it was believed there were several that flew about day and night and performed the tasks that no one ever saw completed. George didn't believe in fairies that dusted or changed the bed linens or filled the cabinets with groceries. Mary did all that. He didn't believe in fairies that replaced clothes that didn't fit or shoes that wore out with new ones in the wardrobe, or toys or shaving razors or anything else that was reinstated anew without anyone noticing the change. Mary did all that. But there was one fairy George always wondered after, the bedtime fairy.

She was by far the most kind and caring of all fairies, for no matter what happened when you slept, she was there to stand guard. She replaced the covers when they slid off; she turned up the heater when it was too cold in the room. She put away shoes, and folded clothes and picked up toys, leaving the bedrooms neat and tidy in the morning. She could find you no matter where you slept, and if she could manage, she carried you to a bed or made you as comfortable as possible wherever you lay. For George, she laid out his suit for the next day with a pressed shirt, matching socks and freshly shined shoes. There was one thing he appreciated above all else. It was the most precious of all her gifts, which he was to discover for the first time this night. George did not remove his clothes or shoes as he lay on Grandpa Joe's bed and closed his eyes.

He had only been resting for about an hour, but discovered sleep was no easier to find than reconciliation with Mary. The door to the room creaked open, and although it was dark, in the moonlight George peeking through his eyelashes saw the beautiful fairy in her glory. She knelt down by the edge of the bed, and unlaced and removed his shoes. She bent over his chest and gently removed his tie, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt to help him sleep easier. She unbuckled his belt and gently slid it from his pants and fixed the blanket over his form, tucking in the sides. She moved a fluffy pillow under his head and then she placed a kiss upon his forehead and wished him "sweet dreams, my darling love." A tear fell from her cheek, followed by another that landed softly next to his face on the pillow. She touched his face and for good measure brushed her lips over his before leaving the room.

Once her visit was over, and the door to her room was closed just as quietly, George turned on his side and ran his fingertips over Mary's tears. He too had tears left to shed and so he did until the first light of dawn crept in through the windows. The fairy returned again and left him his Sunday suit. He covered his face with the blanket, so she would not think him awake and mimicked a light snore as she moved the blanket back down under his neck. She turned to leave and he opened his eyes and saw she was fully dressed for the day that lay ahead of her, complete with hat and coat. The front door shut and George ran down the stairs, but not quickly enough to catch her. He ran into the street just in time to see the cab carrying his lovely and defeated wife away to an unknown destination.

He called after her, and her name echoed through the empty streets and still the carriage kept going. George returned to the house, flew up the stairs and into every room in the house, looking for some hint of where she would be going so early in the morning. In her bedchamber, thinking all was now lost, especially her, he removed from his dresser the key that unlocked the drawer of her dreams in her vanity table. Grandpa Joe stumbled in, hearing the racket George caused by his searching, and found him reading over a note that made his tears run from his eyes like a faucet. He set the note down on the bed and read Vivian's letter that was found underneath the previous. There was nothing else in the drawer but a brochure Wendy brought back from a University for women in a city called Boston, located in America.

As George read through Vivian's penned confession, Grandpa Joe lifted the note that caused George's heart to bleed in anguish.

Dearest Mary,

It has been so dreadfully long since we saw each other last. I think of you often and long for your touch. You have succeeded in making me jealous of your pathetic and idiotic excuse for a husband. I think you silly for taking him back. George was easily led away from you, just as I have continually told you all along. He is a spineless fool who prefers the company of whores and prostitutes to your loyal and graceful womanliness. When you had finally discovered his misdeeds, did he take the easy way out by accusing you of mistreatment, freeing himself of all the guilty pleasures he delighted in?

I told you that first night at my parent's party; you will be mine, Mary Elizabeth Baker, and belong to no other. If you still need more proof that my brother is as daft as he was that night, spilling punch all over you in an attempt to grope at your breasts, may I remind you once again that he deviously put you in the wrong way so as to dupe you into marriage, knowing full well that it was my intention to propose first. How valiant he was showing up at your window! George is a lecherous villain who seduced my wife and ruined my marriage, and he thinks that makes him a better man than I? Not to mention spoiling the virtue of my niece Vivian, who is forever shamed as a loose woman. Who will want her now?

Think of their child, Mary, think of that innocent baby they made together in their passion! George told her he wanted more children, but you were a barren as the desert, a 'sterile inept shell of a female' he called you. He will waste your loveliness and splendor trapped here in London, just to lord it over me.

How many more letters must I write before you admit you and I are meant to be? Say the word and I will retrieve you, and take you to my kingdom in Paris where you will rule as my beautiful queen forever.

With the love in my heart that has always been there for you and only you,

Peter

"Your own brother, evil, wicked as Lucifer," Grandpa Joe muttered to George who looked to his father-in-law in indescribable in agony. Without having to ask, Grandpa Joe answered his question, "There is no way Mary would ever, and I mean never ever, take up with another man. My daughter would rather throw herself from a window after she slit her own wrists than lie down with your brother. I know that Wendy was an accident on both your parts, but I must ask, George, is any of this other...is this true?"

George lowered his head and tried to compose himself, hunting for his voice, "Small details all taken out of context, I assure you. I did take to bed with his wife, but she was in no need of seduction, as far as his niece...I was not her first by far...there was a child..."

This made poor Grandpa Joe bend at the waist and clutch his knees, "George, how could you? Not even I..."

George interrupted, "The children must never know." He tugged on his father-in-law's arm and gave his most solemn face.

"Did you call Mary..."Another question Grandpa Joe would be unable to finish.

"No, never, it was Peter who used those words of Mary, they were his. When I asked him what I should do if Vivian..." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "Peter called Mary that, he said if she was, then I should keep the child, and make arrangements for Vivian." George reread the letter from his brother and then read it again, while he did his father-in-law watched closely over his shoulder, "What of your brother's proposal?"

"After we were already engaged, my mother complained that Peter should be married first, because he was oldest and he was the only one she wanted out of the house. She suggested it when our engagement was broken; right before Mary was to wed the bigger fish, Peter should propose to Mary, that because of his wealth and profession you and your wife would think him the biggest fish. We look alike, and Mary would never know the difference, she said. But my father would not hear of it, he said Peter was much too old for her being already twenty-two years her senior, and she would surely decline his proposal on that merit alone. Not to mention that my father hated your family for your treatment of me..." A sob tore from his throat. "How many letters has he written to her? How long has this been going on?" George looked down to his brother's note, and back up to his father-in-law.

"I don't know George, Mary always checks the post..."

George stood and ripped up Vivian's letter without another look. "He told me he would have never proposed to a woman I felt so strongly in love with. He told me Mary was mine alone that is what my brother Peter told me the day we got married. Months ago he told me I should divorce Mary, and go to Paris, leave her here and ... that was after I was caught. I never knew that everything was about him taking Mary from me ... I just didn't know! I'm the one who's blind! If he's been writing to her... then for how long and how often? Why didn't she tell me?"

"Who knows, George, weeks, months, years? I was wrong, your brother is worse than Lucifer. I wonder who runs hell when he's not there?" Grandpa Joe looked about the room, everything neatly arranged. "George, where is Mary?"

"She left at dawn, dressed in her best. Last night I told her ... to lie down with another man, my brother, so she would appreciate what she comes home to." George slumped down on the bed looking straight up towards the ceiling into nothing as he spoke, but only for a moment before Grandpa Joe pulled him up by his collar, "This letter is dated only a week ago, that means Peter is in London, look at the letterhead, that same hotel. Before she does something that will cause the death of both of you and me, go get your wife."

George dressed in his Sunday suit in record time and ran from the house. He ran all the way to the hotel, and without checking in at the front desk, he interrogated the elevator operator for his brother's location. With the room number secured, George raced down the hall, arriving at the door and disregarding a knock, even so early in the morning and unannounced. Next, he kicked the door in. Peter bolted up from his bed, nude, and approached his youngest brother. George met him by clasping his hands firmly around his neck. As George strangled the air from his eldest brother, the ringleader in all the havoc wreaked in George's life, the naked woman who lay with Peter before the assault began to scream. A whining and wailing pleading with the gentleman she called "Sir" to stop, brought George back to reality.

Instead of Mary, he found a redhead there, a redhead who was Wendy's age. "Mr. Darling, please, I don't know how Millicent found out, but please don't kill him."

George pulled himself off of Peter and backed away. He looked at his brother and saw his face was bruised and well scratched, a clawed handprint ran down the left side of his cheek as well as the right. "Mary or Margaret?" Peter choked and coughed as air now filled his lungs. "Mary." George responded with shock and disbelief. "I know, George, she already told me. Twice." Peter pointed to the bruises and then to claw marks. "She's a feisty one when she's angry and unimaginably strong. If your son had not pulled her off of me, I'd probably be dead already."

"My son?" George stood and glared down to Peter.

"John, he came home when I was there. Mary doesn't know about Margaret, nor does her bitch mother, so do you go telling her? We're brothers, remember and blood is thicker than water."

George needed no further explanation nor demands from his eldest brother, a man he once admired for his strength and courage. He helped his brother stand, and then, while Peter watched and laughed, George slammed him straight in mouth with his clenched fist. Peter staggered back and then passed out on the floor. "Margaret Davis, get up and get dressed, you are going home."

She did as she was told, and George took her back to his own house, as he knew that later in the morning, his children would be arriving for church.

George's first words when he walked in the door, "Wendy, take Margaret upstairs and dress her in an appropriate outfit for church. Margaret, DO NOT SPEAK TO MY DAUGHTER, NOT ONE WORD." They both made their way up the stairs in silence and remained that way as Wendy attired Margaret in a yellow dress appropriate for Sunday wear.

Aunt Millicent entered as they came down, and cried, "Oh, there you are, Margaret! I was worried sick that you ran off again! And here you are a guest in Uncle Joseph's house." She looked to Grandpa Joe, who was trying to hide his expression of great confusion, "Good of Margaret to spend time with Mary, she will be an excellent example of being a proper lady, just like her mother Elizabeth before her." Millicent spoke hugging tightly to her wayward daughter.

George fixed his disheveled clothes as best he could. He had his brother's blood smeared on his shirt and coat from when he hoisted him onto the bed. Peter was still unconscious when George yanked Margaret by her arm from the hotel room. They both said nothing the entire walk home.

John, Michael and Uncle Harry arrived just as they were leaving and as John began rambling his apologies for sleeping late and almost missing church, George replied, "I will express my sincerest apologies and beg for your forgiveness privately after breakfast." He hugged John, who was taken aback, but then fell into his father's loving embrace.

"You don't have to say you're sorry, Father, as long as you promise you will never be so blind as to not see again."

They took carriages to church, George, Grandpa Joe, Wendy and Margaret rode in one, and Aunt Millicent, Uncle Harry, Michael and John rode in the other. They entered the church just as the poor and penniless left, the first mass of Sunday offered special for them with no collection plate passed. Mary Darling knelt in the last row, with her head lowered, praying her rosary. Wendy noticed her mother first, and tried to gain her attention as they proceeded to their normal seats in the front. Aunt Millicent saw Wendy then Mary, and then whispered loudly, "Mary, there you are. Good of you to watch after Margaret last night." When Mary looked, Millicent gave her a happy grin, which was received with a look of bewilderment, and although Mary was summoned to sit with her family, she remained where she was.

George entered last and was directed by Grandpa Joe to see Mary sitting. She glanced at George who pointed his finger to where the rest of their family sat with a quizzical face. She moved her head slowly from side to side and then nodded him along to join them. He mouthed to her, "Do you not want to sit with the family?" She did not respond only went back to praying. George went to the front and told John, "I'm going to confession, and then I'm going to sit with your mother." John turned his head to his mother and smiled.