TAIYE’S TEA WAS STILL TOO HOT TO DRINK by the time she walked to the high-ceilinged chapel of Our Lady of La Salette. The massive oak doors were propped open by a white sandwich board that read ALL WELCOME. Taiye slipped inside as quietly as she could, tiptoeing to keep the chunky heels of her boots from striking the floor, and sat at the end of an empty pew. It was a modest brownstone church with stained-glass rose windows on either side of the vaulted archway. She sipped the tea, burning her tongue. Mass had already begun.
