Walking through the whispering crowd
We stepped out of the car, dressed impeccably for the occasion. I took Francis’s arm, and we walked toward the large wooden doors.
Heads turned as congregation members recognized the banished daughter returning. People nudged each other and whispered behind cupped hands, their eyes tracking our every move.
The gossip mill was already churning at full speed. We kept our heads high, ignoring the stares as we climbed the concrete steps.