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Love me again, please?”I did and we fell asleep cuddled together.March 24, 1992, Chicago, Illinois“I was wondering when or if I’d ever hear from...you again. I’m glad you called.”“Thanks, Father.”We were seated by a waiter at a quiet, out-of-the-way table. I’d opted for a place in Greek Town rather than our usual diner.“How are things?” Father Basil asked.“Overall, pretty good. If you mean spiritually, well, I believe my friend’s murder ultimately caused a crisis of what little faith I might have. ”I saw my new white nightgown on the floor, spattered with blood and what I guess were bits of my father's scalp.“Let's get you out of the tub and get you dried off. We can't have the police coming in here with you undressed.”My mother dried me and wrapped me in her big terry-cloth robe. As she was drying my hair, we could hear sirens in the distance. “It's over now, Becky. I'm sorry I didn't do more to protect you. I've always loved you, and I will always love you. Please tell me you. More

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