asked.
Sean hesitated. He wrung his hands. “No, I’m fine, thanks. I think I’ll just listen.”
“The good Lord loves a listener,” Roland said. “Bless you, Brother Sean.”
Roland turned to the woman next to Sean. Her name was Evelyn Reyes. She was a large woman, in her late forties, a diabetic who walked with the aid of a cane most days. She had never spoken before. Roland could tell that it was time. “Let us all welcome back Sister Evelyn.”
“Welcome,” they all said.
Evelyn looked up, from face to face. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You are in the house of the Lord, Sister Evelyn. You are among friends. Nothing can harm you here,” Roland said. “Do you believe this to be true?”
She nodded.
“Please unburden your sorrows. When you are ready.”
Tentatively, she began her story. “It started a long time ago.” Her eyes welled with tears. Charles brought over a box of Kleenex, retreated, sat in his chair by the door. Evelyn grabbed a tissue, dabbed her eyes, mouthed a thank you to Charles. She took another long moment, continued. “We were a large family back then,” she said. “Ten brothers and sisters. Twenty or so cousins. Over the years we all married, had children. We would have picnics every year, big family get-togethers.”
“Where did you meet?” Roland asked.
“Sometimes in spring and summer we would meet at Belmont Plateau. But mostly we would meet at my house. You know, over on Jasper Street?”
Roland nodded. “Please go on.”
“Well, my daughter Dina was just a little girl in those days. She had the biggest brown eyes. A shy smile. Kind of a tomboy, you know? Loved to play the boys’ games.”
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. She took a deep breath.
“We didn’t know it at the time,” she continued, “but at some of these family gatherings she had...trouble with someone.”
“With whom did she have trouble?” Roland asked.
“It was her uncle Edgar. Edgar Luna. My sister’s husband. Ex - husband now. They would play together. Or at least that was what we thought at the time. He was an adult, but we didn’t give it much mind. He was family, right?”
“Yes,” Roland said.
“Over the years Dina got quieter and quieter. All through her young teenage years she didn’t play much with friends, didn’t go to the movies or the mall. We all thought it was a shy phase she was going through. You know how children can be.”
“Oh my, yes,” Roland said.
“Well, time passed. Dina grew up. Then, just a few years ago, she had a breakdown. Like a nervous condition. She couldn’t work. She couldn’t do much of anything. We couldn’t afford any professional help for her, so we did the best we could.”
“Of course you did.”
“Then one day, not long ago, I found this. It was hidden on the top shelf of Dina’s closet.” Evelyn reached into her purse. She produced a letter written on bright pink paper, a child’s stationery with sculpted edges. At the top were festive, brightly colored balloons. She unfolded the letter, handed it to Roland. It was addressed to God.
“She wrote this when she was only eight years old,” Evelyn said.
Roland read the letter from start to finish. It was written in a child’s innocent hand. It told a horrifying tale of repeated sexual abuse. Paragraph after paragraph detailed what Uncle Edgar had done to Dina in the basement of her own house. Roland felt the rage rise within. He asked the Lord for calm.
“This went on for years, ” Evelyn said.
“Which years were these?” Roland asked. He folded the letter, slipping it into his shirt pocket.
Evelyn thought for a moment. “Through the mid-nineties. Right until my daughter was thirteen. We never knew any of this. She had always been a quiet girl, even before the problems, you know? She kept her feelings to herself.”
“What happened to Edgar?”
“My sister divorced him. He moved back to Winterton, New Jersey, where he was originally from. His parents passed a few years back, but he still
Sean hesitated. He wrung his hands. “No, I’m fine, thanks. I think I’ll just listen.”
“The good Lord loves a listener,” Roland said. “Bless you, Brother Sean.”
Roland turned to the woman next to Sean. Her name was Evelyn Reyes. She was a large woman, in her late forties, a diabetic who walked with the aid of a cane most days. She had never spoken before. Roland could tell that it was time. “Let us all welcome back Sister Evelyn.”
“Welcome,” they all said.
Evelyn looked up, from face to face. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You are in the house of the Lord, Sister Evelyn. You are among friends. Nothing can harm you here,” Roland said. “Do you believe this to be true?”
She nodded.
“Please unburden your sorrows. When you are ready.”
Tentatively, she began her story. “It started a long time ago.” Her eyes welled with tears. Charles brought over a box of Kleenex, retreated, sat in his chair by the door. Evelyn grabbed a tissue, dabbed her eyes, mouthed a thank you to Charles. She took another long moment, continued. “We were a large family back then,” she said. “Ten brothers and sisters. Twenty or so cousins. Over the years we all married, had children. We would have picnics every year, big family get-togethers.”
“Where did you meet?” Roland asked.
“Sometimes in spring and summer we would meet at Belmont Plateau. But mostly we would meet at my house. You know, over on Jasper Street?”
Roland nodded. “Please go on.”
“Well, my daughter Dina was just a little girl in those days. She had the biggest brown eyes. A shy smile. Kind of a tomboy, you know? Loved to play the boys’ games.”
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. She took a deep breath.
“We didn’t know it at the time,” she continued, “but at some of these family gatherings she had...trouble with someone.”
“With whom did she have trouble?” Roland asked.
“It was her uncle Edgar. Edgar Luna. My sister’s husband. Ex - husband now. They would play together. Or at least that was what we thought at the time. He was an adult, but we didn’t give it much mind. He was family, right?”
“Yes,” Roland said.
“Over the years Dina got quieter and quieter. All through her young teenage years she didn’t play much with friends, didn’t go to the movies or the mall. We all thought it was a shy phase she was going through. You know how children can be.”
“Oh my, yes,” Roland said.
“Well, time passed. Dina grew up. Then, just a few years ago, she had a breakdown. Like a nervous condition. She couldn’t work. She couldn’t do much of anything. We couldn’t afford any professional help for her, so we did the best we could.”
“Of course you did.”
“Then one day, not long ago, I found this. It was hidden on the top shelf of Dina’s closet.” Evelyn reached into her purse. She produced a letter written on bright pink paper, a child’s stationery with sculpted edges. At the top were festive, brightly colored balloons. She unfolded the letter, handed it to Roland. It was addressed to God.
“She wrote this when she was only eight years old,” Evelyn said.
Roland read the letter from start to finish. It was written in a child’s innocent hand. It told a horrifying tale of repeated sexual abuse. Paragraph after paragraph detailed what Uncle Edgar had done to Dina in the basement of her own house. Roland felt the rage rise within. He asked the Lord for calm.
“This went on for years, ” Evelyn said.
“Which years were these?” Roland asked. He folded the letter, slipping it into his shirt pocket.
Evelyn thought for a moment. “Through the mid-nineties. Right until my daughter was thirteen. We never knew any of this. She had always been a quiet girl, even before the problems, you know? She kept her feelings to herself.”
“What happened to Edgar?”
“My sister divorced him. He moved back to Winterton, New Jersey, where he was originally from. His parents passed a few years back, but he still
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