Page 245 of Midnight Curfew

I step down onto the cement tiles. “What’s going on?”

No one’s speaking, just sitting in silence. It’s starting to get really fucking hot out, the spring evening humid and heavy.

“The diocese wants to promote Father McNealty to bishop,” Macon tells me.

“So?” I retort. “It should’ve happened a long time ago.”

He should be an archbishop by now.

“He refused,” Macon continues, “but it did occur to me that he’s almost seventy years old. He’ll be retiring in the next ten years in any case.”

“So?”

They all look at me, and I know right away, this is going to be a whole fucking conversation.

Rolling my eyes, I take a seat.

“Father McNealty is in a unique position,” my oldest brother explains. “He does the couples’ counseling, marriage counseling, confessions, baptisms…”

As he did all of our baptisms and will do Macon and Krisjen’s wedding…So what?

“He’s an integral part of the community,” Macon tells me as if this has already been explained to everyone else. “He knows everyone and is trusted. He’s been useful in influencing the approvals process for our construction and planning permits. When he welcomes us into a space, everyone else follows.”

“Isn’t that why Krisjen is running for city council?” I fire back.

She can have the same influence. Almost.

“I’m not a man.” She frowns. “Men influence men. There are avenues he can cross that I can’t. We need him.”

Well, we still have him. He’s refusing to be promoted. He’s still head of Marymount Academy for the time being. What—

Then it occurs to me.

“But he’s not going to live forever,” I state, and then I run my hand through my hair. “I’m afraid to ask where this is going.”

Silence looms in the whole courtyard, and I can tell everyone is aware except me. And if it’s a problem not yet solved, then they’re expecting me to play a part.

“We need, uh…” Macon trails off, and that never happens. “We need someone to take his place when he retires.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out what the fuck he means.

Then it hits me. He could only mean one thing.

A new priest.

Oh, what the fuck?

I start laughing, shaking as fatigue burns my eyes. He’s got to be kidding.

“Well, the firstborn son.” I throw my hand at my oldest brother. “Isn’t that the custom?”

Give the first one to God and all that shit?

He just sneers. “Preferably someone who’s not getting married.”

I dart my eyes to his fiancée. She flashes me a tight smile and drops her eyes in an apology.

“I can see that you’re serious.” I rise to go inside. “I need a drink.”