Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“You see, growing up with Dan wasn’t just about learning the catechism. It was also about learning the art of mischief. Dan had a unique talent for finding adventure in the most unexpected places. I remember one time, when we were kids, we decided to sneak into the church pantry and sample some of the communion wafers. We thought we were being discreet, but Father Doug caught us red-handed. He gave us a lecture we’d never forget about respect for the Eucharist. Dan, being Dan, turned it into a life lesson about the importance of our faith.”
My uncle’s words hit me with the force of a blow to the head. I remember that story. Da told me about it before my first communion. I never thought about it again after…
I never thought much about my first communion again.
Not until now.
What if I had remembered what happened with the altar boy? What if I’d told Mommy and Da? Would Da have lost his faith? Or would he have put it in God’s hands? Would he have confronted the altar boy? Would he have—
My uncle’s voice interrupts my racing mind.
“As we mourn his passing, we remember Dan not just as a devout man but as a loving husband, father, brother, a loyal friend, and someone who could find joy and laughter even in the most challenging moments. He showed us that faith isn’t just about seriousness. It’s about finding joy in the journey, even when the road is rocky.
Those words. It’s almost as if Da is saying them to me. I can even hear his voice inside me.
It’s about finding joy in the journey, angel, even when the road is rocky.
“May his soul rest in eternal peace. Amen.”
“Amen.”
This time I say it, and I remember Da for how he was. His humor, his faith, his love for me, Mommy, and Eva. Even for Nana. She was Mommy’s mother, not his, but he loved her so much.
Communion follows.
It’s been ages since I took communion. Not since high school. And now that I recall what happened before my first communion? I don’t want to have anything to do with it.
But the Eucharist meant a lot to Da. He always said it reminded him that though he was imperfect, he was still able to commune with God by taking a meal with Him.
So I walk to the altar, following Mommy, and I take the wafer and the wine.
For Da.
I do it for Da.
I’m forever grateful when the service is over.
Except now comes the most difficult part.
Watching as my father is lowered into the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ben
I steer clear of Tessa after the Mass. Only family and close friends go to the gravesite. Braden and Skye are going, but I choose not to. I’d go if I thought it would help Tessa, but she and I haven’t had hardly any communication since she went to stay at her mother’s, and that was nearly a week ago. I’ve texted her a few times to check in, and her responses have always been short and polite.
Instead, I have Sherlock drive me to Tessa’s mother’s neighborhood, and we wait in the car for the family to arrive back from the burial for the wake.
I sit in the backseat, going through email after email, when one catches my eye. I don’t recognize the email address, and I’m ready to send it to spam when I see the subject line.
I haven’t forgotten.
Chills skitter over my flesh as I open the email.
It’s me, Black. Remember when I said you’d get something in the mail a couple months ago?
I remember, all right. I didn’t sleep all night and watched the mail at home and at work like a hawk for the next week until I was convinced Dirk had been bluffing all along.
There’s no evidence. We made sure of that at the time.
I continue reading.
I decided to wait. Bide my time.
Time’s up, Black.
My blood turns to ice.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tessa
We have the reception at our house after the burial. Watching my father’s body being placed under ground for all eternity was excruciating. I wished Ben were there, and a small part of me wished for faith—that belief that Da is still with us, enjoying eternal life with our Father in Heaven.
But my faith is gone. Obliterated, beginning with an altar boy at my first communion.
Aunt Lily and the church put together a feast for us. Mostly Mexican food. Even though Da wasn’t Mexican, that was the food he loved the most.
Braden and Skye are here, of course, along with Betsy and several of my friends from my old job. I haven’t been with Black Inc. long enough to make new friends. In fact, I haven’t been back to work since before Jamaica. Luke was great about giving me time off for bereavement.
Of course, that’s no doubt due in part to the fact that I was a special hire by the Black brothers themselves.