Father Cain

Stepping into the cool lake was easier than ever. Stripped of her sins, Mary felt lighter than ever. There was nothing holding her back from her reunion to her creator.

Mary Ellen Watson, age 45, was found floating down the Occoquan river on a Tuesday afternoon in late April. She was a mother of two young teens, both found dead in their beds. Her husband, a successful banker in their small town, was nowhere to be found. It was assumed that he had something to do with these deaths, but those assumptions quickly quieted when he turned up in the regional park. He was naked, and animals had decimated him. Cause of death was indeterminable.

The common belief was that Mary Ellen did it. Townsfolk had put together a whole story about her. She brought her husband to the park, killed him and left, picked up her children from school, laid them to rest, and finally walked herself into the river. No weapons were ever found. The police interviewed neighbors, family, friends, coworkers, anyone. Nothing seemed like enough motive for this kind of murder.

"Mary's husband? The banker? Oh he was a sweetheart. Head over heels for that woman, he was. Brought her flowers, walked with her, came home with trinkets and jewelry and such."

"Now, who were Mary's boys again? Was it... ah! Abel and Elijah Watson. Model students. Kept to themselves, got good grades, helped the teachers around class. Weren't bullied or nothin' either."

"Abel was a perfect student. He led youth groups, loved babysitting the little ones. Elijah was in the choir, you know. Had a beautiful voice, but was mighty shy. Both were good boys. It's sad to see them gone."

"Mary was just a saint. Always helped me out with the newborn, even brought me a pie when I got home from the hospital!"

Model family. Attended church regularly, helped their community, never a hint that there was any hatred in their body. The police interviews turned up nothing. There wasn't any evidence from the crime scenes. Eventually, the story died out. As most do.

It was about two years later that it happened again.

Elizabeth and Joseph McCall were found dead in their home. Their dog was gone, presumably ran off, and both seemed to be resting peacefully. There was a bottle of rat killer in the kitchen, and Joseph showed all the signs of a quick death from the poison. Vomit and blood rimmed his lips, and a congealed, foamy puddle filled his dinner plate. He, however, was laid in bed, arms crossed over his chest like a corpse prepared for a viewing. Elizabeth was in a similar position, but her vomit trickled down her neck, puddling under her head and around her. She took the poison in bed next to her husband, then. This case, at least, was easier to piece together. The only question was why. Elizabeth was a kindergarten teacher and Joseph an accountant. Both loved their jobs, loved each other, and often spent date nights out with their coworkers. Nothing ever seemed off about the family. In fact, they seemed happier than ever.

In the small Virginia town, a priest had taken residence of the decrepit catholic church. Its attendants were few, but devout. The building was renovated in the past decade, but still took damage from time and weather. The façade was worn, the pipes leaky, and the walls groaned when the wind blew too hard. The nursery and youth group room was painted a baby blue, the floors a stained beige carpet. The main worship room was wood-paneled. The ceiling was raised, a single ceiling fan shook as it spun. A leering cross too big for its wall threatened to topple at any moment, and a rickety lectern made by a local boy-scout resided right below it.

In the second floor of the church was the equivalent to a studio apartment. There was a counter, a stove and old fridge, a futon, a bed, and a closet wardrobe. Father Cain Samson lived here.

Cain moved in about two years prior to the Watson family deaths. He quickly took to the hearts of the church community. Their last Father had passed away in his sleep, and it was wonderful someone moved in and took over so quickly, the church would muse. He related to the families. He joked with the children. He provided recipes, kept the church doors open for the wives to stay later and gossip, was amicable to everyone. Never judged. Never questioned the strength of their beliefs.

When Mary Ellen Watson attended her first confession with Father Cain, she admitted in a quiet, emotional voice: "I don't like my life, Father."

"These are common thoughts, child. What about your life does not appeal to you? Confess your emotions to me so we may cleanse you of this sin."

His voice soothed her. A tear rolled down her cheek. She dabbed at it with her napkin before continuing. "This isn't what I wanted from my life. I never wanted children. I love them. I love my boys, so much. But I never wanted them. I never wanted to live here. I never wanted to marry Paul. I just wanted to be free after school. But it all went so fast after that. And here I am. I try so hard, Father, to not show them. I don't want my family to think I don't love them."

"We need to remove the weight of your sins, child."

That day, Mary went for a walk in the regional park with her husband. She hugged him tightly, breathing in the scent of his cologne, listening to him whisper "I love you, Mary," in her ear, and she plunged a butcher knife in his lower back. She was nervous. Her hands were shaking. She pulled the knife out and plunged it back in.

"Mary-" he gasped, pulling away from the hug, eyes wide. As he pulled away, he crumpled to the ground.

"I must be free of my sin," she whispered, setting the knife down. As per Father's instructions, she carefully cut the clothes off of Paul, crumpling it all into a bundle and tossing it into her purse, knife included. She stared at her actions for a moment. Free yourself of your sins, Mary. Remove the things that burden you. Free them of their sins. Free yourself of your sins. Birth is the worst sin of all. Free yourself.

She nodded to herself then, straightening, and walking briskly out of the park. It was time to pick her children up from school.

She drove them home, gave them their dinner, helped them with their homework, played Scrabble with them. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Where's dad?" Abel asked when a half hour had passed when their father would usually return from work.

"Oh, he went to his boss's house for dinner. We think he's getting a promotion," she said with a smile and a lilt in her voice. Lying never came to her naturally, but knowing she would soon be free lifted a weight from her chest. Lying now felt easy.

Night came, and the boys turned in for bed. As they fell asleep, Mary came in to check on them. Confirming they were asleep, she used the same knife that had killed Paul to take their lives.

Walking in the moonlight calmed her. She walked to the Occoquan, purse with evidence in hand. She took a step into the water, which felt icy cold and filled her shoe. She exhaled. She would be free of her sins and meet her creator. She would be free. She took another step. The purse sunk as she thrashed before settling in the moonlight.

Father Cain held a special Sunday Mass to memorialize the death of these loved community members. Two years of silence befell him, before Elizabeth entered his confessional.