Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“She keeps up-to-date, checking the website weekly,” Carp informed me with a shake of his head.
This was my why.
These two.
It wasn’t the sin. I’d already accepted that my vows no longer had ahold on me. But these two. I had watched them lose their daughter. Grieved alongside them. And together, we had found some way to continue with this. My becoming a priest. Dedicate my life to God and his service to honor Delana.
Not realizing, one day, I’d grow up. See it all differently. But how could I hurt these two people when I knew what all they had lost? It was a level of selfishness I didn’t think I could obtain.
Hannah picked up the photo of their daughter and gazed down at it so lovingly. They had given that to me the day I left for seminary. So that I could have her with me wherever I went. She pressed a kiss to her fingertips, then placed it on the glass before raising her gaze to meet mine. “Our angel, too good for this world.”
I nodded. “Yes, she was.”
She sniffled, then placed it back on the desk.
“How is Torin?” she asked. “He still hasn’t called us. The only peace I get is knowing he is at least coming here.”
I cleared my throat as another heaping of guilt dropped onto my shoulders. “Better. He’s opening up to others more.”
“Do you think you can get him to see us?” she asked. “I know he’s stubborn. Even when Torin was a little boy, he was so determined. Set on what he wanted. What he believed.”
I rubbed my jaw, hating to tell her I doubted he’d do that. Explaining that he barely spoke to me and that I currently didn’t care to see his face was impossible.
“I, uh…well, he’s changed. Not the same guy. But I suspect prison caused that.”
She sighed, nodding her head. “I know. He’s changed his name. I just…” She shook her head. “How could he take the name we had given him—that we’d chosen when he was in my womb—and just toss it? And for a name like”—she grimaced—“Crow.”
Thirty-Three
Saylor
The glare I got from Sister Regina every time I glanced down at my phone during Mass reminded me why I didn’t like to come to Mass. I lifted my gaze from the last text I had gotten from Jude on Friday, which I now had memorized.
Jude:
Things came up. I have to cancel tonight. Tomorrow as well.
That was it. No explanation. Nothing.
I had sent back on Friday:
Saylor:
Are you okay?
Then on Saturday:
Saylor:
I’m worried about you.
But my pride would not allow me to send anything else. If he wanted to talk to me, he would. I’d gone to the support group last night, only to see him, but I was greeted by Father Heisler as the leader for the night.
I had battled coming to a Mass service all morning and decided if I didn’t come check on him, I was going to go crazy. Something was wrong. I refused to believe he would just ghost me. That wasn’t like Jude. He might not love me, but he did have strong feelings for me. It wasn’t just sex. Although, last week, there had been a lot of sex.
I chewed my bottom lip, ready for this service to end so I could go talk to him. Seeing him up front had at least eased my niggling fear that we had been caught. But that wasn’t the case, or they wouldn’t have allowed him up there. I didn’t know all the rules, but I did know they had rigid ones, and a priest caught fucking would be a big deal.
He’d glanced over me once, and since then, he kept his gaze anywhere but this direction. My throat got tighter every second that ticked by. I had kept reading his text, trying to decide if there was a hidden message in it. But what could be hidden in that? Not one damn thing.
When the prayer ended, my grip on my purse tightened, and I watched as people began to file out. Many lining up to speak to Jude, who was making his way to be stationed at the exit. It was so ceremonial and proper. His gaze didn’t cut this way as he passed. I would have thought I was invisible again if I hadn’t seen his shoulders visibly tense.
What had I done? Did I make a mistake? Wouldn’t he have confronted me if I had? His text hadn’t been a goodbye text. It had been a very odd can’t see you this weekend text.
I held myself back, wanting to be near the end so I could ask him if he was okay. Get him to look at me. I needed some reassurance. Because right now, I was teetering on panic. My anxiety slowly taking over. He wouldn’t want to end things. Would he?