"Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum;"

Brigid stood in the cold October drizzle long after the mourner's left, repeating the prayer over and over softly under her breath. Catholic school had taught her many things, most notably how to cover up the smell of cigarette smoke effectively, but today the only Latin she could remember didn't seem nearly enough.

"Domine, exaudi orationem meam," she prayed.

Everybody said her mother looked lovely lying there in the plush burgundy lined casket; peaceful, they said.

'Flanagan convicted in husband's death' read the article she had folded neatly in her pocket, a picture of her mother being led away in shackles under the headline. Gary Flanagan, it turned out, checked out of the world in a rather non eventful way, and even though the coroner couldn't say for sure if it was the alcohol or the pillow that killed him that didn't stop the jury of twelve from casting their stones.

"Hail Mary, full of grace…" surely Brigid thought of all the saints, the Holy Mother would be the one to grant pardon to Marie Flanagan.

Inconclusive evidence, extenuating circumstance, the bruises on the Flanagan children all led the defense attorney to believe he could set Marie free; unfortunately, he didn't account for the fact that most of the jury had a lot in common with the dead man, turns out he should have tried harder to seat more of their wives.

Judge Stone sentenced her to fifteen years for manslaughter, which meant she would be eligible for parole in eight; no one thought she'd end up doing life. Killing her husband never ranked high on Marie's personal list of sins and the fact that she never asked forgiveness never bothered her children until she became sick. Lung cancer. Marbolo Lights, it seemed, had caught up with Brigid's mother.

"No, I won't," Marie raised her voice to the priest and gestured to her surroundings, "God understands what I did and I'm already serving my penance."

Only her mother, Brigid was sure, would argue with Father Kelly about this; most other people would simply ask and be forgiven. Penance was fine and good but it's only one part of absolution; humility before God and the act of asking for forgiveness were all part of the bargain.

"Quit being so righteous," Brigid yelled, "don't be a martyr, just do this for me…just ask."

Rather than submit to this simple act, though, Mary Margaret died stubborn and defiant and damned to hell.

So Brigid stood at her grave now praying in Latin and stumbling over the words because the favor she was asking Mother Mary was so huge it warranted the effort. Time and again she mentally kicked herself for lazily day dreaming through catechism, if ever there was a time to call upon all the saints it was now.

Under the black umbrella she stood with the rain pouring around her in sheets whispering names of long dead saints, cutting silent deals in a final desperate attempt to secure her mother's place in heaven.

"Vincent…hear my prayer"

Wind swept through the cemetery as she neared the end of her list and tore the small umbrella from her grasp leaving her completely exposed but she was almost done and so stood her ground.

"Xavier…hear my prayer"

Yelling now, to be heard over the wind, Brigid continued in her liturgy.

"Zachariah…"

~~~~~

Author's Note: This was an exercise for writing class last semester. Each sentence was to start with a successive letter of the alphabet. If it bears a lot of resemblence to Praising Caesar well it's 'cuz that story came from this one. And since I was clearing out the hard drive in preparation for the upcoming semester, I decided might as well post it. So there :)