Mom couldn't stop laughing, however quietly. "Where do these people come from?", she asked. "Glad you asked, Mama. St. Etta's."

"No! That place you've been going ..."

"None other."

Placing the towel with which she'd been wiping the sweat from her face over he mouth, she almost muffled the sound of her response. A gentle chuckle had grown into a roar. Sudden silence below. Had they heard that?

I must have looked angry or crushed. "Meggulah, I love you. I don't mean to be mean, but ... you know these boys?

"Barely, and that's too much." I told her the whole story. Mom shook her head.

"It was just an idea, dear. You know I'd never want you to be unhappy. I hope you know that. Are they all like that over there?"

"Those are all of them, over there. I'm starting to wonder where little Catholics come from."

"That O' Brien boy keeps saying something about his mother having put a candle in the window before he was born, so the three wise men from the east would be able to find their way in, but I think he was kidding."

Silence and more silence, until sound came up from below, and we were sure that we were still the audience in this little drama, and not about to become part of the cast. We looked at each other, and laughed with a cautious softness, some more. "I should have made some popcorn for this movie, I said, nodding toward the microwave." "Popcorn, shmopcorn, Meg. After what I just sent you to, I think you need a drink." Quick nod from me.

Oh, yes. Most definitely, yes.