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Today wasn’t that day though, because the car did start, and I steered it through the quiet Sunday morning streets of Saint View and into Providence. I parked it up in the church lot, in between BMWs and Mercedes, and then followed the other early morning churchgoers inside for the 6:00 a.m. mass.
I’d once stood outside this church and told Eve I’d probably be struck down by lightning if I ever set a foot inside. Today, I’d sought it out, needing a comfort I’d heard some people found here.
Or maybe I’d just been seeking him.
He stood at the front of the altar, watching people find their places. He nodded good morning to those who called out a greeting to him, and I ducked my head, finding a seat in the back row where I could be as unobtrusive as possible.
He still saw me.
His gaze centered on me, fully and without hesitation.
A warmth flickered inside me as our gazes collided, his unreadable. Eventually, not knowing what else to do but aware people were starting to glance in my direction to see what he was staring at, I flicked my head up a notch and slightly to the right, indicating he needed to keep on with his preparations and not stare at me anymore.
Even if I did like it.
He caught on and started the mass, while I sank my tired body down against the hard wooden pew and let Zeph’s deep voice wash over me. I had no idea what was going on, but I followed the people around me when they stood or when they kneeled, and moment by moment, a peace settled over me. I didn’t hear his individual words or sentences. It all just became background noise, but in a nice way. One where I felt calm and peaceful even though the sadness lingered.
At the end, I let everyone else leave the church while I sat still.
He came to me.
Just like I knew he would.
He sat, his robes brushing my leg. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
“Or ever,” I filled in for him with a smile.
He nodded. “Church isn’t really your thing.”
Was it his? That’s what I wanted to ask, because something about the way he looked at me, and the connection that had sparked between us, had me questioning everything about him. But I couldn’t say that to him. Not here, after watching him in action. The last hour had me wondering whether every moment I’d thought we’d had was even real, because he’d led that mass with a conviction I hadn’t seen from him before. Nobody around me was sitting there, trying to read into his words the way I was. To everybody in that room, he was a priest, one fully committed and believing in the Bible verses he preached.
I pointed up at the altar. “You’re good at your job.”
“Thank you. But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Or why your eyes are red like you’ve been crying.”
He was always so observant. So tuned in to me in a way no other man ever had been. “You believe in Heaven, right?”
He paused for a long moment, then nodded. “I do.”
“I think Fawn is dead. It’s killing us all slowly. Augie especially.”
“You’ve had no closure.”
I nodded.
He settled back beside me, our arms touching, his warmth seeping into me so welcome I wished there was more of it to wrap me entirely.
“I believe in souls. And that death is beautiful.”
I glanced at him. “Odd thing to say.”
He lifted a shoulder. “There’s a beauty in endings. In someone being out of pain and in a better place. Of new life taking its place.”
“Where’s the beauty in someone being taken too soon? And so brutally?” I stared up at him, practically begging him to make it make sense.
I hadn’t even realized I was crying until he tenderly brushed away a tear from my cheek. “Maybe it’s in the people left behind and what they do next. The connections they forge in the face of grief. The way they change their lives so hers wasn’t in vain. The way you go on and teach the next generation to do better.”
I didn’t know if I agreed when everything just felt so unfair. I’d already lost Fawn, and it was inevitable I’d lose my grandmother at some point in the not-too-distant future as well.
