I make very little noise when I go into or leave a place because I 've had thirteen years of practice . No , maybe twelve . I didn 't fully walk until I was a year old . In my grandmother 's house , where mother and I have lived since 1947 , I learned to be very , very quiet . If I giggled too loudly or danced with new shoes on the hardwood floors , Mother whispered , " Shush , Catherine , you 'll hurt Grandmother 's already hurting head . " Sometimes my noise hurt Grandmother 's hurting stomach or hurting knees . At first , it didn 't matter that I made very little noise when I went into St . Bartholemew 's Church on that Saturday afternoon in February . I wouldn 't have distracted anyone from their prayers because except for a few people kneeling at the altar saying their penances the church was empty . I didn 't have to wait in line for confession either , but I did go in very quietly in case someone was confessing on the other side of Father Dennehy , who sat in the middle with penitents on either side of him . As I knelt facing the closed panel between Father and me , I examined my conscience and lined up my sins with the venial ones first - like the lie I told my friend Mary Anne , that I liked her new coat when I thought it was really ugly . The most serious sin , the mortal one , I would tell him last , hoping that Father would be tired and overlook it and still give me absolution for wishing Grandmother dead . When I finished counting up my sins , I heard a deep voice from the other side saying , " Bless me , Father , for I have sinned . " Right away I tried not to listen , but the confessional is very dark so there is nothing to distract you from listening . That Saturday I tried my ususal don 't - listen game to take my mind off the voice on the other side by running my fingers over the wall on my right side , pretending I was tracing sins that were locked in there , sins the penitents were too ashamed to say out loud . I imagined those sins had escaped from their owners and landed on the walls and were waiting to be absolved by fingers like mine . The game didn 't work and I heard Father Dennehy asking how long it had been since the man 's last confession . I tried sticking my fingers into my ears like I had once before when I heard a boy telling Father that he told an impure joke , but I recognized Gerald Griffin from my class anyway , because he stutters . Some people 's voices just travel through the panel , no matter what you do . On that Saturday in February , I didn 't recognize the man 's deep voice . But it went right through Father Dennehy and into my ears . After he told Father that it had been two years since his last confession , he started to cry and then I heard his sin . And it was the worst possible sin , the one that broke the " Thou shalt not kill " Commandment . The man said , " I killed my cousin Tim . " Oh , this was much worse than hearing Gerald Griffin 's confession . I couldn 't move , even to unplug my ears and open the door to leave the box . For a moment , I tried to excuse him and thought he might have wanted his cousin dead like I feel about Grandmother and that he thought wishing something to happen was as bad as making it happen . When he started to sob , I knew he hadn 't just had an evil thought . I never once sobbed about my thoughts about Grandmother . Father Dennehy shushed him and told the man to go into the rectory with him so they could talk . Two doors opened and I didn 't hear any more voices . I cramped up waiting for Father to open my door and tell me to go home , but I guess he didn 't hear me when I knelt down . I guess being quiet is not always a protection against awful things . For a few minutes , I knelt there like one of the figures from Pompeii in my history book , imagining I had been covered with the ash of someone 's sin and would remain stiff and silent forever . When my breathing became so shallow like it does when Mother has me breathe into a paper bag , I stumbled out of the box . I walked shakily to the altar of St . Joseph to ask him to calm me down . I put my head in my hands and started to pray , but the smoke from the candles next to me made my eyes water . After I patted them with my handkerchief , I saw the backs of two men walking through the sacristy toward the door to the rectory - Father Dennehy and a tall , wide - shouldered man wearing a black jacket with lettering on the back that said " Gordon 's Garage . " " Gordon 's Garage , Gordon 's Garage , Gordon 's Garage , " I panted as I ran from the chuch . I kept up the terrible refrain until I reached my friend Mary Anne 's front porch . I sat down on the top step and hoped I 'd freeze to death so I wouldn 't have to do anything with the words I 'd heard . Why , oh why did I ever go to confession that day ? I could have waited till the next week , because I 'd still have the same sin about Grandmother , especially since she had started calling Mother a tramp and her new boyfriend a " dirty - fingered oaf . " My nose started to run and I dabbed at it with my mitten . Freezing to death would be too embarrassing . My friend might find me with icicles coming from my nose . I moved inside the porch to the swing . Maybe the part of me that wanted to die would go away a little if I could talk to someone about what I had heard , someone like Mary Anne . She was the smartest person in the class and she would know if someone who heard a great sin in confession was bound by the seal of confession not to tell , just like the priest was . I argued with myself about telling her until her mom came out and took me into the house for cocoa . She told me Mary Anne was at her aunt Connie 's house for the day . I thanked her for the cocoa and told her I 'd be fine walking home . It 's only been a little while since I 've been fine walking home . Before Bill Gordon came into our lives , I hated facing Grandmother as soon as I came in the house . She had a list of after - school chores for me and a list of complaints about what I did poorly . And before Bill came into her life , Mother looked so tired when she came home from her job at the beauty salon . But after Bill , Mother looked as cheerful and pretty as her customers . Bill is a big man with curly blond hair and bushy blond caterpillar eyebrows that join each other when he deliberately frowns . He calls them his " kissin ' " eyebrows . He has a short , curly blond beard , darker than his eyebrows , that looks like a pot scrubber . When he smiles , which he does a lot , he invites you into the funhouse that lives inside him . He always asks about my basketball team and sometimes plays one - on - one with me in the driveway with the hoop he put up . Sometimes he invites me to go to the movies with Mother and him if it 's something approved by the Legion of Decency . And sometimes he even asks Grandmother to go to Ramsey 's for ice cream , but she pulls her sweater tighter across her skinny chest and squints at him like he was something missed by our monthly exterminator . Mom met Bill at Gordon 's Garage three months ago , after our car started chugging along like it needed vitamins or something . A tune - up was Bill 's cure , along with new sparkplugs and other things , but he only charged Mother for the tune - up . He asked her out for dinner a few days later and has been coming over ever since . Since then , Mother looks like a beautiful doll that has been taken out of a trunk in the attic and was dusted off and appreciated . When I got home , I told Grandmother I was sick and went right upstairs to my room and closed the door , but I could still hear her yelling that I was faking because I didn 't want to peel the potatoes for dinner . I wasn 't faking about the sickness . I hurt all the way through to my inside self , the one who makes believe that she is the prettiest and smartest and most popular girl in the class . I told her to go away , that I didn 't want her anymore , that I wanted a new self , a self that had overheard a terrible secret and would know what to do about it . That night Mother came into my room and asked me what was wrong . I told her that Mary Anne and I had had an argument and she said we weren 't best friends anymore . She lay down beside me on the bed . " We 're having a mother - daughter bad day , " she sighed . " Bill called me and broke our date for tonight . He said he didn 't feel well , but when I asked him what was wrong , he said goodbye really quick and hung up the phone . Maybe he doesn 't want to see me anymore . " I wished I could say something that would make her feel better . All I could think of was that she was better off without a murderer , but I couldn 't say that until I had cleared the seal - of - confession problem with Mary Anne . On Sunday , Mother , Grandmother , and I went to the ten - fifteen Mass . Throughout the liturgy , Mother kept looking around , which made Grandmother knuckle Mother 's thigh and hiss , " Pay attention to the priest and stop looking for that dirty - fingered oaf . " I wanted to knuckle Grandmother 's thigh and for once get the better of her , just to see her jaw drop when I corrected her and said , " It 's not dirty - fingered , it 's bloody - fingered oaf , you stupid woman . " But I didn 't say it . I was too busy concentrating on the communicants . Since Grandmother always made us sit in the first pew , so all her Bingo friends could see how pious she was , I guess , I could see who came to the altar . If Bill came , I knew that I 'd have to jump out of the pew and push him away from the altar . It would be a grievous , unspeakable mortal sin for him to take the Eucharist just so nobody would guess he killed his cousin , but I didn 't see him . After Mass I looked for Bill in the vestibule and so did Mother until Grandmother pulled us both out of the church . During the day and into the evening Mother kept glancing at the phone as if she could stare it into ringing . As the day trudged by , I watched the prettiness fade from her face . It disappeared completely when Grandmother , who misses nothing said or not said , said goodnight and added triumphantly , " He probably met someone else who doesn 't mind dirty fingernails . " She handed it to me and I saw a big headline that read Local Man Found Dead in Shop . Below it was a picture of Tim Gordon , proudly standing in front of Gordon 's Garage . He had his arm around his cousin Bill , who was smiling , not like the day he was carrying his terrible sin over to the rectory . Mother dropped the newspaper onto the table and ran to the hallway to the phone . I knew she was calling Bill even before she said his name . The article said that on Friday the police found the body of " Tim Gordon , 41 , lying on his back partway under a Cadillac up on the lift . The owner of the Cadillac , Jim Holgren , discovered him at six - thirty p . m . " It talked about Police Chief Kearns , who said there would be an investigation , but " preliminarily I 'd say that Gordon slipped on an oil spill near the lift mechanism and hit his head on the concrete floor of the garage . " The rest of the article talked about Tim Gordon 's six - year partnership with his cousin Bill , his wife Helen , and their three children , ten , eight , and six years old . It called them his survivors . It didn 't say anything about Bill Gordon 's survivor , my mother , who walked slowly into the kitchen and said , " He didn 't want to talk to me . All I wanted was to say I 'd help him any way I could . " She looked puzzled and hurt , like someone who had reached for a drowning person and had her arm pushed away . " It doesn 't surprise me that he didn 't want to talk to you , " said Grandmother . " Probably found someone else to wipe off his tears . " To have the last word , Grandmother yelled , " He probably killed his cousin . I bet you 'll read that in tomorrow 's paper . And his wife , too . She was young when she died five years ago . Fell down the stairs . He probably pushed her . " The battery in my brain went dead . It couldn 't handle the picture of Bill pushing a young , faceless woman down the stairs . It couldn 't make my arms move to pick up my lunch bag or my legs to go out the door . It had to wait for Grandmother to shove the bag into my hand and turn me toward the door . On the way to school , it did return to its usual jobs like telling me to wait for a green light and to tie my shoe when it needed it . My brain did these things even though it kept playing a movie of Bill Gordon at the top of some stairs watching a young woman , my mother , fall horribly to the bottom and lie there very , very still . " Children , three students in our school , Madeleine , Augustine , and Lawrence Gordon , lost their father over the weekend in a tragic accident . Please bow your heads and pray for the soul of Tim Gordon and for grace for his family to bear their loss . And as always , we thank the dear Lord for the blessing of this good man 's life . " We all bowed our heads and joined our hands in prayer , but I had to force myself not to shout out that Mr . Gordon 's death was not a tragic accident , because shouting out in class is forbidden and so is listening to other people 's sins . We were told to be very careful not to listen to other penitents when we were taught about the Sacrament of Penance . But I did pray to thank God that Bill Gordon didn 't seem to want to talk to my mother and that he would stay that way . Maybe Grandmother was right about his wife ; she was right about his cousin . I also asked for help in finding out what to do with the terrible secret I 'd heard if I was under a seal like a priest . I didn 't hear an angelic voice telling me what to do but I did get a note that sailed onto my desk . It was from Mary Anne , asking me to walk home from school with her . I folded it up and nodded yes . She was a very good person and planned to go into the convent when she was eighteen , so she could very well be God 's messenger . I thanked Him for His answer because I knew then that it was all right to talk to her about my problem . The day dragged by until two - fifty , when we again prayed for the Gordon family before dismissal . Mary Anne scooted next to me in line and squeezed my hand . A block away from school , she told me what was on her mind . " Cathy , my mom said you stopped by on Saturday and seemed upset . And in church yesterday you didn 't wait for me . And today , you look like you 're sick . What 's the matter ? " I looked around to see if any of the kids in my class were near enough to overhear what I had to tell her . A few of the boys were not far away , but they were clowning around , slamming each other with their book bags . Soon they 'd be pulled aside by the traffic cop and marched back to school , but to be safe I told Mary Anne that we could talk on the steps of the House of Usher , the empty house that we named after the story we read in class . Its front yard was overrun with weeds and dead wisteria vines clawed their way down from the roof . Its gray stucco walls had a lot of cracks . No kids ever went near that house . Mary Anne swallowed a couple of times before she said yes , because she knew from the place I picked that what I had to say was really serious . We brushed off the lowest step and used our book bags as cushions . I had kept my secret inside so long that I blurted it out without giving Mary Anne a chance to get ready to hear it . When I said , " My mother 's boyfriend , Bill Gordon , is a murderer , " her eyes got so wide that I thought they 'd pop through her thick glasses . She got up off the step and started to walk in circles , holding her stomach as if I had punched her . After a few seconds , she sat down again and said , " Who did he murder ? " " Dear God , you never should have listened ! I think it 's a terrible sin to listen to someone 's confession , " she said , and made the sign of the cross as if she was trying to protect herself from the devil inside me . " Did you tell anybody else ? " " I 'll pray to St . Jude , " she whispered as she left the crumbling house . Praying to St . Jude , who was the patron saint of hopeless cases , didn 't cheer me up , and neither did going into my house and hearing Grandmother tell me that I had to go to choir practice that night and the next for Tim Gordon 's funeral mass on Wednesday . The first night of practice was terrible . Between hymns everyone kept talking about the Gordon kids , how Madeleine and Augustine hadn 't come to school and how Lawrence , who did , ran out of the classroom crying . The second night I stayed home because I got sick . As soon as Mother came home from work , she noticed that I looked flushed . She took my temperature and gave me some aspirin and told me to forget about homework and go to bed . She ignored my comment and decided my sickness was constipation and I needed milk of magnesia . Mother flashed her an angry look and took me upstairs . She lay down on the bed beside me . She still had that missing - Bill - Gordon look on her face and I wanted to make it disappear . I wanted to tell her to forget him , that he was a murderer , but caught myself . If I told her , she might not believe me and think I was happy he was gone because I just wanted her all to myself . And if she did believe me - because I only lie to Grandmother , not to her - she 'd be in the same boat as I was , not sure what to do . Thankfully , Mother dozed off . I tried to fight off sleep because I always have the same dream when I have a fever and I really hate it . I threw off the covers and sank right into that dream . I am always floating in a big bowl of tomato soup and trying to escape from the little alligator - shaped crackers , but I can 't . They bump into me and poke my stomach with their snouts and I fall out of the soup and land all sloshy on the floor that Grandmother has just mopped . She yells at me and I tell her it was an accident , but that night I changed the words to it a bit . On Wednesday my fever was gone and I went back to school . Although I told Sister Josephine that I still had a scratchy throat , she put me back into the choir for the ten o ' clock Mass . At nine - thirty we lined up and went to the church . Walking up the spiral staircase to the choir loft filled me with dread . From up there , the church looked scary . Shadows in back of the statues of Mary and Joseph made them look like looming giants instead of the " comforters of the afflicted " that they were . Votive candles flickered and looked like little dancing demons . To pull my eyes away from them , I scanned the church and focused on , of all things , the confessional door that I had opened quietly , very quietly on Saturday . The pews were filling up quickly . Mother had told me that she had to work and wouldn 't be going to the Mass , but I knew that she really didn 't want to see Bill Gordon there , holding his grief to himself or sharing it with somebody else . I saw Grandmother , who went to funerals of people she knew and didn 't know , hurrying up the center aisle , squeezing into a pew almost filled to get the end seat for a good view of the mourners . At dinner , she 'd give us a report on things like who cried hardest , who was laughing in the vestibule after Mass , and who didn 't care enough to wear a black coat . She 'd have a special comment for the deportment of Bill Gordon , who might not have acted cousinly enough to suit her . The organist softly played " Dies Irae , " which meant day of wrath and always made me shiver when I heard it or sang it . As soon as the funeral procession entered the church , the hymn would burst like a fierce heavenly thunder clap , reminding the people there that their day of wrath , their day of judgment , was waiting for them . The eighth grade always attended funerals of the relatives of schoolmates . I watched as my class filed in through the side door and looked for Mary Anne 's red beret . I saw it and waited for her tug at it , her greeting to me when I was in the loft . She didn 't touch it . Wondering why , I missed the starting note and got poked by the girl next to me . It was hard to keep on singing when I saw the Gordon kids and their mother genuflect and go into the first pew on the left . The eight - year - old boy hurt me the most . He was small for his age and put his arms around his mother 's waist and wouldn 't let go . She couldn 't kneel to pray until a large man in a black coat that didn 't say Gordon 's Garage gently unlocked the little boy 's arms and set him on his lap where he stayed during the whole Mass . Maybe , I thought , Bill needed an anchor to keep him from jumping up and confessing to all the congregation . Back in school , I sent a note to Mary Anne asking if something was wrong . She opened it and shook her head no , but she ignored me at lunch and got in line to go home with Bernadette Jones . I knew she was upset at me because of what I 'd told her about Bill , making her a part of the sin . It was a terrible mistake to tell her . I knew it really was a terrible mistake when I saw her mother after school . She waved at Mary Anne and stayed next to the building . I suddenly knew why Mary Anne had been so cold to me . She was embarrassed because she had told her mother , who was waiting to talk to me . She came right up to me and asked me to go with her to the ice cream parlor around the block . I didn 't have time to think up an excuse , so I just went . We didn 't say anything until we sat in a booth and ordered milkshakes . " Mary Anne is a big , fat tattletale , " I blurted out . " I 'll never be friends with her again . " She leaned over the table and handed me a handkerchief and patted my shoulder until I could look at her without blurry eyes . I always thought that Mary Anne 's mother looked like the nice mom in the Dick and Jane reader . " I didn 't mean to make Mary Anne part of my sin , " I said . She told me that overhearing Bill was no sin , that just because I heard it in a confessional didn 't make it a sin . She said that something was a sin if a person listened on purpose and wanted to do something evil with it , like get money from the sinner . Even though I knew she was trying to give me a kind of absolution , I didn 't feel better . She wasn 't a priest . She sipped her milkshake for a few seconds before saying what her family really wanted her to say . " What you overheard was a crime . I checked with Mary Anne 's dad , who is a lawyer , and he said you are not obligated to report it to the police , but it might help you feel better if you do . " So now three of them knew . I had broken the seal of confession in triplicate . I felt really angry and rudely kept sipping my shake until it reached the slurping level . I shook my head and slurped as loud as I could before saying . " I can 't do that . I don 't want my mother to know what I know . She loves Bill and she might stop loving me if I tell on him . " When I left the shop I remembered the day our class went to the high school to hear a debate and learned the word " rebuttal . " I had one ready for Mary Anne 's mom . As soon as she came outside I said , " My mother won 't be living with a murderer . He has stopped calling her . " At home , Grandmother greeted me with a smile and pointed to the kitchen . I knew I was in for cookies and milk and a recitation of the events and people at the funeral . Grandmother was always at her best after a trip to the cemetery and I had to be bribed into being her audience . Mother wouldn 't listen . I sighed and bit into a cookie . I tried to crunch loud so I didn 't have to hear , but I couldn 't help hearing about the pallbearer who tripped , the aunt who hadn 't visited the family in ten years but sobbed hysterically , " Timmy , my Timmy , " and the eight - year - old son who wouldn 't throw the carnation into the grave when he was supposed to but kept chewing on the stem . I had taken three cookies ' worth of the stories when I said I had to do homework . " I 'm not finished yet . " Grandmother smiled and refilled my glass . From her beaming face , I knew she was leading up to something big . For once something Grandmother said made me relax . All the tension left my body . I went as limp as my old Raggedy Ann doll and could have just flopped off the chair . For the first time since I left that confessional box , I felt free of worry and dread . As I learned in the class trip to the debate , the argument for me going to the police about Bill was now moot and Mother would find out , but not from me . I couldn 't help smiling . In an instant , I felt guilty for being happy . Mother , my poor mother , I 'd forgotten how this news would hurt her . Even though Bill had stopped calling , she still seemed to have hope they 'd get back together . This news would push her back into the person who faced every day as if it was a long homework assignment that had to be turned in before bed . I dreaded seeing her listening to Grandmother 's news . I didn 't have to wait long . She walked right into the kitchen just in time to hear the words " low - down killer . " " I know who you 're talking about so gleefully , " she said . " Bill Gordon , that good man . Evelyn , one of my customers , told me about seeing him at the funeral getting into the police car . She 's not quick to judge someone like you are . " " The chief did not put him in the car . He got in himself . Did it ever occur to you , " Mother repeated , " that Bill might have needed a ride home , since he came in the limousine with Tim 's family ? " Grandmother didn 't answer . She went to the cupboard and pulled out pots and pans , banging them on the counter . " I can 't keep talking about this nonsense , " she muttered . " Somebody around here has to get the dinner . " I tried to smile , because I didn 't want to spoil her treat , but Raggedy Ann had left my body . All the dread I caught in the confessional box came back . Bill Gordon wasn 't arrested . He got into the car with his friend . Now it was up to me to keep Mother away from a murderer . When we sat down , I forced myself to look happy by digging up a thought that might bring the moot back . Bill Gordon hadn 't called Mother since he killed his cousin . Maybe he had lost interest , or his guilt would keep him away from her . I started to feel better and enjoyed the meal and the chat Mother started about high school next year . It wasn 't until we got into the car that my happiness exploded . " I had some good news today . Remember Evelyn , my customer who went to the funeral ? She told me that before Bill went with Chief Kearns he came over to her and told her that now that everything was over he was going to call me . " I stiffened up . That was the reason we went out to dinner - to celebrate Bill Gordon 's return . Now I had no choice but to tell her . I tried to speak , but I couldn 't get enough air . I started to gasp . Mother quickly pulled the leftovers box from the restaurant out of the brown paper bag . It usually takes only a few seconds for me to catch my breath , but that time it took longer . Mother started the car and said she was taking me to the hospital . We were almost there when my breath came back . I told Mother to pull over . I had something to tell her . " You shouldn 't see Bill anymore . He murdered his cousin Tim . I overheard him telling Father Dennehy in the confessional . " She didn 't scold me for listening to someone 's confession . She didn 't say anything . She pulled into the driveway and went right into the house and up to her room . I went upstairs to the bathroom and got sick . At first , Grandmother looked pleased that our rare dinner out had ended badly , but the next day she looked concerned when Mother came home from work and went upstairs without dinner . She tried to pump me , but I wouldn 't tell her anything . I didn 't want her to know that she was right about Bill . Before going upstairs after work the next day , Mother told her to tell whoever phoned that she wasn 't taking calls . And of course , the person who called three days in a row was Bill Gordon . Those three days were awful . Mother didn 't eat dinner and went right to her room . On Mondays , Father Dennehy taught the eighth - grade religion classes . The Monday after I told Mother the truth , he spoke about the Sacrament of Penance and he glanced at me a few times . He knows , I thought . He knows that I know about Bill . But maybe I was imagining it . He looked at other kids too . When he was finished , Sister Josephine thanked him and we all stood up and thanked him too . Since I sit in the first seat next to the door , I 'm in charge of opening it for visitors . As I reached for the doorknob , he said softly , " Come to the cafeteria after the first dismissal bell rings , Catherine , so we can talk . It 's okay with Sister . " So it wasn 't my imagination that he had been looking at me during his talk . He knew that I had sinned , no matter what Mary Anne 's mother had told me . And it was so serious that he had to speak to me in person , like he did with Bill Gordon . He was not just going to scold me ; he was going to excommunicate me . I dropped my book bag twice on the way down to the cafeteria where the boys ' basketball team was having a meeting . The second time Father Dennehy sent one of the boys he coaches to pick it up for me . It was Gerald Griffin , the boy whose confession I had overheard . Father Dennehy probably saw that in my soul , too . Father Dennehy waved at me and pointed to a table far away from the team . I sat my zombie - self down and unfroze a little after he dribbled a basketball across the floor and passed it to me . " Nice catch , " he said as he lowered himself onto the round seat opposite me and stretched his long legs under the table . He took the basketball from me , twirled it like a professional , and set it on the floor . I was so grateful for his thoughtfulness that I started to cry harder . He handed me his handkerchief and told me to take my time . That 's when I sobbed and hiccoughed out the whole story , from the confessional box , to ear - witnessing a crime , to the confessor being my mother 's boyfriend , to telling Mary Anne , who told her mother and father , to telling my mother , and to being the worst sinner of all time . And after I blew my nose , I remembered about Gerald and told him that , too . So I hugged the ball and listened to what he told me : There was no sin in overhearing unless it was intentional , for purposes of blackmail or some other evil ; there was no seal of the confessional for the penitent ; certainly no excommunication . Aside from telling me he didn 't need to give me absolution because I hadn 't sinned , he really told me the same things that Mary Anne 's mother did , except that he didn 't suggest I go to the police like she had because he couldn 't . If he did that , he 'd be admitting he heard Bill Gordon confess to murder . And he couldn 't tell me if I was right or wrong to tell Mother about Bill for the same reason . I let go of the ball and rolled it to him . He said he hoped he had helped and I said he had . He smiled a small smile , like he knew he had only partly pulled me out of a burning house . I walked glumly home and opened the door to a beaming Mother . Smiling , she signaled me to stay on the porch . She closed the door quietly for a not - for - Grandmother 's - ears conversation . " Bill came into the shop today and handed me a beautiful white rose . He asked me if we could go across the street to the park and talk so I could tell him why I wasn 't answering his calls . Of course , the customers were all eyes and all ears . I couldn 't explain to them why I 'd refuse such a romantic offer , so I had to tell him I 'd meet him at the gazebo on my lunch hour . " I didn 't tell him it was you who overheard his confession . I told him that a friend of mine was on the other side of the confessional and heard him tell Father Dennehy that he had murdered his cousin . And I said I had to tell my daughter about the confessional to explain why I wouldn 't take his calls , because we have no secrets from each other . " The wind blew dead leaves onto the porch and I turned to go inside , but Mother pulled me over to the swing . " Let me finish , Catherine . He smiled because he said the listener misunderstood . " " No , sweetheart , you 're not and neither is he . He explained everything and he wants to explain it to you tonight at dinner at Alfredo 's . Please trust me and go with me . " It took all the trust I ever had to meet him at Alfredo 's . He was already sitting at a table when we got there , making tracks in the tablecloth with his fork . A candle set in a wine bottle in the middle of the table dripped melted wax onto raffia streamers tied around its neck , giving me hope that a small fire might cancel our dinner . He jumped up when he saw us , sending the fork to the floor . He ignored it and pulled out a chair for Mother and one for me . When we were seated , he rubbed his hands together and smiled . I shuddered . Bad people in movies rub their hands together when they smile before they shoot , stab , or poison someone . When the waiter came over to give Bill another fork , he ordered wine for Mother and himself and a Coke for me . He remembered what I like to drink from the pre - confessional days . Before the drinks came , he asked me how school was going and how my basketball team was doing . I answered " fine " and " good . " Mother looked embarrassed . He frowned and made his caterpillar eyebrows do the tricks that used to make me laugh . As soon as the waiter put the glasses in front of us , Bill said he 'd better clear the air before we had our dinners . He sighed and spilled it out . " When I found out Friday night that Tim had died from a fall , I went to the shop to check something out , something I should have done , but forgot to do . Before I left at five forty - five , I meant to clean up some oil that I had spilled near the lift , but I was anxious to get to the bank with the week 's deposits before it closed and I forgot about the spill . " When I got the call from the police that night , I rushed back and sure enough , Tim had slipped on the oil I forgot about and cracked his head on the concrete floor . I almost went out of my mind . The police called my doctor and he gave me pills so I could pull myself together . Of course , they didn 't help . The next day , Saturday , I wanted to die . I explained it all to Tim 's wife and she told me it wasn 't my fault . " I still couldn 't forgive myself , so I decided to ask God 's forgiveness . I went into the confessional and blurted out that I had murdered my cousin . Father Dennehy took me to the rectory and let me tell him all the circumstances . Then he explained that it was an accident , that I hadn 't sinned because I hadn 't intended it to happen . " His eyes filled with tears . Mother reached over and squeezed his hand . He dabbed his eyes with a napkin . " Do you understand now , Catherine , why the person who heard me misunderstood ? " I was quiet during dinner , but I am always quiet , even when Grandmother isn 't around . I got even quieter after dinner when the waiter brought a silver tray to our table with a beautiful white rose draped over it . The rose had a pink ribbon around its stem and something sparkly tied to it . Bill took the rose and handed it to Mother . She sniffed it and smiled and then noticed the ring on the ribbon . Right at the table Bill asked her to marry him after he untied the ring and slid it onto her finger . She nodded yes . This is not real , I told myself , it 's a play . But I smiled because it was my part in the play . I didn 't have to say any lines because Mother and Bill know that I am quiet , very , very quiet . When Mother showed Grandmother her ring , she got quiet for a while before she asked where we were going to live after the marriage . But I had a lot to say the next day at school to Mary Anne . I told her I wanted to make up so we walked home together . I told her about Bill and how he had confessed something he didn 't mean to do , so that Father Dennehy had to explain in the rectory that he hadn 't sinned , and how he and my mother were going to get married and how I was trying to get used to thinking of him as a stepfather and not a murderer , but it just wasn 't working . I just couldn 't get happy about it , but I didn 't know why . I wanted to push her into the garden at the House of Usher and claw her smirky face with dead vines . Sure she was right about me wanting Mother to myself . I 'd figured that out already , but there was something else that was trying to scratch its way out of my memory , something else that was trying to tell me that I should be worried about Bill . Suddenly she stopped walking and turned to me . " I just remembered something . Bill Gordon is a perfect example for my essay , but I won 't use his real name . I overheard my mother telling my father that Bill was terribly upset for the longest time after his wife died . His sister - in - law told Mother that he felt responsible , that he couldn 't forgive himself for not tacking down the hallway carpet and replacing the light bulb in the hall . His wife fell down the steps one early morning in the winter when it was still dark . He found her dead at the bottom of the stairs . And now he feels guilty about his cousin . Such a terrible coincidence , my mother said . Such an overscrupulous conscience . " And that 's what I was trying to remember , what Grandmother said about his first wife : " She was young when she died five years ago . Fell down the stairs . He probably pushed her . " After leaving Mary Anne , I made a vow that there wouldn 't be any more coincidences . There 's no point in telling Mother , because she 's too much in love with him to believe that he would arrange his wife 's death . She will think that I am making up things to make her change her mind , because she can tell I 'm not happy about the wedding . But there is something I can do . I have to thank Grandmother 's hurting head , hurting knees , hurting stomach for making me so quiet . After the wedding , when we move into Bill 's house , I will train myself to wake up before everyone else and check the hallway carpet and light fixture , and the kitchen floor for any oily spills . I can do this without waking him up because I am quiet , very , very quiet .