COFFEE HOUR

"La misa ha terminado. ¡Van en paz para amar y servir al Señor y vivir según las enseñanzas de su hijo Jesús! ¡Gracias a Dios!" Father Steve intoned joyfully.

"Gracias a Dios," the congregation responded.

The mass had ended. He had instructed the congregation to love and serve God and live by the teachings of his Son, Jesus. The organist began playing his postlude, a set of improvised variations on the recessional hymn, as the acolyte returned to one side of the altar to put away the processional cross and snuff out the communion lights while tugging at his too-tight collar. The altar guild member slipped out from the opposite side to begin resetting the table for the next mass, and congregants milled about holding conversations over the organ music or leaving to go to the coffee hour.

Fran Brown sat in the cafeteria of the church school, sipping a Cafecito while talking to several children as they excitedly showed her their completed art projects they had worked on earlier, church windows made out of tissue paper while contemplating eating the pan dulce on the paper plate in front of her. Maybe she should take it home to Ed. He didn't come to St Mike's, as he called it, for obvious reasons, but he loved Mexican pastries that showed up at the coffee hour. Fr. Steve came over to the table with a cup of coffee. Sitting down across from her, he drank it in a gulp and grabbed the sweet bread off her plate. Eating it in three quick bites, he grinned at his friend.

"That was Ed's, y'know."

"And you're gonna tell me that ..."

"Teresa Amador made an entire pan just for you and the sisters. It's in the kitchen. Sister Jo is guarding it as I speak." She gave him a withering look.

He looked sheepish. "Come with me. I'll get you a fresh roll for the man and another coffee". He looked around. "And I need to talk to you seriously 'bout something before you go home."

She got up and followed the priest into the kitchen. He gave Sister Josefina a practiced look, the nun dried her hands on the towel where she was washing dishes, nodded, and left silently. Fran waited until he'd poured coffee for them, adding the additional sugar and milk that never translated into extra pounds.

"I need a favor."

"Ok, as long as it's not."

"I'm a priest, and you're an ex-cop married to my friend, the Chief of Police. You're also the friend that made me stop running away from the priesthood. Nope, I wouldn't do that to you or Ed. I need you to take a look at someone."

"You've got a new lost lamb."

"Yup. There's something about her that feels unusual. She came in last night, a drowned rat, and hasn't said boo to anyone. Miranda couldn't even get her to talk this morning. But, when you came up to the rail for Eucharist, she looked like she wanted to jump outta the pew and hug you."

It couldn't be, she thought anxiously. "Point her out for me, will you."

Steve pulled the louvered kitchen screen aside and pointed to a girl sitting all by herself in the far corner. She had a small notebook and was writing furiously.

Oh, God. Fran's heart jumped straight into her throat, squeezing it shut tightly. It was her. Cat was safe, but she knew it was only temporary. Though she hadn't said it over the weekend, Fran felt the fire was suspicious, and of course, now, Ed needed to know that Cat was here. That knowledge alone allowed him to come here officially without a warrant. Her being at the church meant he or his officers could arrest any of the asylum seekers. She knew he didn't want to do it and would find a way not to, but the Departments of Justice and Homeland Security had given him and his officers the authority to do it. An authority that made him chafe. It caused friction between her and Ed when she began attending services at St Mike's. Catalina may have been the only witness to a double homicide, the murder of her parents. Michael may have been God's avenging angel, but she didn't think that he and his army would be enough if Immigration burst through the doors.

"What's wrong…?" Steve began. Wait a minute… You know her, don't you?"

"It's her. You found her." She breathed. Turning, she grabbed her friend's face and kissed him hard on the cheek, leaving an imprint of her lipstick. "Don't you know she is? That's Catalina Montez."

Steve Timmins ignored the pleasurable hot flush of his face, grabbing a dish towel to wipe the lipstick off. "Who?"

"Catalina Montez." Fran didn't give details. It was an active police investigation and not her business to reveal things. "She disappeared after her house burned down the other day."

Oh, yeah, now I remember. Rough night for Ed, I'm betting."

"Very." How? she wondered. How to get Catalina out of here and safe? Children's Services would have to be immediately informed. They would come and take her, and she'd be lost in the foster system until the family could be found. She knew Ed carried that thought in the back of his mind; Catalina could be in real danger and anyone who came in contact with her. Fr. Steve, the sisters, and the children and families here for sanctuary could not be involved. There was one place she knew the girl would be safe; pulling out her phone, she dialed.

The voice at the other end of the line was her mother-in-law.

"Francesca, are you still in town? Yes, but he's climbing right now. Ok, I'll get the guest room ready. You won't tell me any more than that. You need to run a few errands first. Alright, dear, I'll see you when you get here. I love you too."

Fran ended the phone call and turned to her friend. "Ok, I have a safe place for her to stay. Let's go have a conversation."

"Sanctuary where? You said, I love you, so it has to be the Double B. You want to tell me why?"

"I want to keep your pilgrims safe."

"This doesn't sound good. What would your old boss say about this?"

"World's fine. People keep messing it up."

Fr Steve walked over to the table Catalina was sitting at. She was still busy filling her notebook.

"Hola mija. Can I sit down?"

She looked up blankly. Steve sat down across from her. He shot a glance at the notebook. It was all in English.

"Why won't you talk to anyone Catalina? We want to help you."

Catalina remained silent, but she stopped writing and looked at him.

"I know you understand me. I know who you are. I know you're in trouble, and it's not my kind of trouble. Maybe you'll need to talk to me later, but I have a friend I'd like you to meet. She worships here at St Mike's. I think she can help you with your kind of trouble."

Steve Timmons watched the girl's eyes grow large, and her face show signs of life for the first time since her arrival. Clumsily she got out of the cafeteria bench seat and ran to the center of the room, flinging herself into Fran's waiting arms.