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I didn’t like she wasn’t letting me help. But I sat where she indicated and held onto the hard wooden pew so my fingers wouldn’t go searching for a rag to help her dust.
Her gaze narrowed in on my hands wrapped around the seat either side of me.
Blushing, I pulled my sleeve down to cover up the tattoo that wound itself around my wrist and edged the back of my hand.
“Why did you become a priest?” She looked away, like she knew she might be crossing a line but still really wanted to know.
Clearly, I hadn’t been quick enough to cover up the tat. The thing always invited conversation I didn’t particularly want to have. So I said nothing. The silence drew out between us, only the squeaks of her cleaning cloth filling the air.
“Touchy subject?”
“Yes.”
I assumed that would be enough for her to just let the subject drop. That’s what other people did.
But Lyric watched me while she dusted, the curiosity in her expression only intensifying. “So just say yes or no to my questions then. Okay? Good.”
She hadn’t even given me a chance to respond before she continued.
“You came from a churchy background?”
I could tell she wasn’t going to take my silence on the matter as an answer. “True.”
She nodded. “Thought as much. Your parents are probably front row at all your sermons in their Sunday best, am I right? Married for decades. Three grown kids with probably a grandkid or two. Nice house with a dog in the backyard, somewhere in Providence?”
That was pretty much my family to a T. She even had the details, right down to my older brother, Jonathan, my sister, Kelly, and her tribe of kids. It wasn’t the entire story, of course. Because nobody’s life was as perfect as they made out, but she wasn’t far off. “True.”
Her grin was triumphant, like she was enjoying figuring me out with next to no help from me. “You became a priest because you love God so much you never imagined doing anything else?”
Oh, if only that were true. “Not exactly.”
She cocked her head to one side in surprise. “Really? You wanted to be something other than a priest?”
If she’d started her cleaning in my quarters, she would have worked that out sooner probably. Though I’d tucked my finished pieces away from prying eyes, the evidence of their existence was still in my room for people to see. There was no hiding the huge bag of clay I’d purchased, or the kiln I had set up. “I wanted to be an artist.”
“You paint?”
“Sculpt, mostly.”
“I’d love to see your work sometime.”
Heat flushed through me at the thought of showing her the pieces I’d worked on lately. That was never going to happen.
She clapped her gloved hands together, temporarily abandoning her scrubbing in favor of working me out. “Okay, the art thing caught me by surprise but still doesn’t solve the mystery of why you joined the church. You’re secretly gay and don’t want to admit it?”
“No. But I’ve much respect for the LGBTQ community.”
“Isn’t that against your beliefs?
I sighed because she wasn’t entirely wrong. If I had been gay, it would have been a problem for my family, and for all their friends, most of whom were members of the church community. I heard the comments some of the other priests made, mostly out of fear and ignorance, their justifications weak at best. “Depends on your interpretation of the Bible, I guess. I choose to embrace all members of my flock.”
Unless one was a horrible human being and strayed too far. Then I had no problem ending them.
Which made me a horrible human being who should probably see himself out. But I couldn’t help the lack of guilt I felt over it. I’d never once hurt a person who didn’t deserve much worse. I’d taken from the rich to give to people like Tammie and Lyric, women who society held down and took advantage of.
“Ah, so you embrace all the chicks then? Not just me? The old birds get your attention too?” She laughed at her own joke.
“Chicks, old birds, flock. Very funny, Lyric,” I deadpanned.
