Father Finnegan’s brow furrowed at the woman’s sudden departure. “A curse?”
He stood and pushed through the curtain at the rear of the confessional, walked around and opened the door to the parishioner’s side. There on the shelf lay the necklace the woman had left. A heart-shaped gold locket hung from a long chain, and when opened, displayed a picture of a mustached gentleman wearing a black fedora. Father Finnegan pinched the locket closed. The pendant looked entirely harmless—nothing more than a delicate piece of jewelry.
“What have you got there, Father?”
He turned to find Sister Mary Catherine. “A locket…supposedly cursed.” He laughed. “Methinks ‘tis the soul of the person who left it who needs the blessing.”
“The jewelry looks to be a fine piece for the fund-raising bazaar, if you’ve no other plans for it.” The nun smiled and opened her hand.
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