The quiet here is, well, what one would expect from a church: soft, reverent, generous...the sort that Karen isn't used to...that she, a few months ago, would've called silence.

But a great deal has changed since then, and now Karen knows that true silence isn't an everyday occurrence.

Karen's first thought when Matt had said that silence would drive someone mad was that the lack thereof has done the same, but now...she understands.

She understands why everything has changed, why she's done what she's done. She knows it, feels it, deep inside whatever soul she has...but that doesn't amount to convincing herself her actions are acceptable. That challenging authority, trusting Matt and Foggy, and following through on things she'd never thought herself capable of condoning - let alone doing - weren't mistakes...faults in her nature, in her conscience.

She doesn't know whether to think she's drifted from all that she's supposed to be, or to think the opposite, and sitting here, wondering what God - Matt's God, her parents' God - thinks. Was He angry with her? Disappointed? Angry? Proud?

She can't fathom Matt's trust in God. Karen doesn't even have the nerve to go to confession.

The door opens; the clack of high heels breaks the quiet.

It stops at the end of Karen's row, and she shivers.

"Hoped I'd find you here," Claire says softly, scooting down the row until she's close to Karen, then hands her a packet of Kleenex and a rosary.

Karen smiles and mouths a 'thank you.'