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)
Ten
Saylor
Sister Mena had begrudgingly handed me a key to the back door of Threads of Love and Hope before she left yesterday. It wasn’t open on Tuesdays through Thursdays. Which I thought sucked, but it would help with the revamp. But if someone came to the door, needing clothes, I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t let them inside. What Sister Mena didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
By the time I had taken the last load out of the dryer last night and carried it all back to the clothing closet to organize by sizes and seasons—which took me three trips each load because those machines could hold a lot of clothes—the sun had set. I had stayed up late, calling to place orders for clothes racks and hangers to be delivered tomorrow. I didn’t intend to use my money for everything. I was going to get donations, but the racks and hangers were an immediate need.
Three times—or thirty—I had looked down at my phone before going to bed, thinking of reasons to text Father Jude. They were all things that could wait. And just me wanting to text him. Which wasn’t why he had given me his number. I wouldn’t abuse it.
I had woken up early, anxious to get back to the clothes closet, and hadn’t expected to see the church parking lot filled with about twenty-five cars at seven in the morning. Confused as to what was going on, I unlocked the back door and turned on lights to get started. I put the binder I had brought with me again on the front counter, then started separating clothes by color and size to take over to the rec hall and wash. It would be faster if I just loaded the back of my car with it, then drove it over there. I had wasted a lot of time walking back and forth yesterday.
My gaze kept going to the church while I fit two industrial-sized loads in my car, which was somewhere between seven and eight loads of laundry. There was definitely something going on inside. I fought the urge to stick my head in and find out. I got a load going and headed back to work on cleaning things out.
Starting with gross shoes that were beyond saving, I filled two trash bags, went over to the rec hall again and moved the laundry in the washer to the dryer, then started a new load when the racks and hangers were delivered. I tied up the trash bags and started hanging up things that now smelled fresh and didn’t look like they had, in fact, been dug out of a dumpster.
When I was bent over, retying my tennis shoe before I tripped on it, the back door opened. Sure I had locked it, I stood and spun around quickly to see Father Jude. His eyes snapped up to my face, but not before I saw that he had been looking at my ass.
He was in jeans again today. I really liked the jeans with the collar. It felt like a rebellious action.
“Hey,” I said, sounding breathless. “I, uh…you startled me.”
He seemed equally rattled. Either he hadn’t expected anyone to be in here or my ass had done that to him.
“Sorry. I should have knocked. I saw the deliveries earlier, but Mass had just ended, and I couldn’t come see if you needed help with anything. But I’m here now.”
I frowned. “Mass? At seven on a Tuesday morning?”
He grinned. “Weekday Mass is early enough so that those who have jobs can make it.”
Weekday Mass…
Catholics went to church a lot.
“How many times do you do Mass a week?”
“Sunday at eight, ten thirty, and five. Monday through Friday at seven. Saturday at five.”
Damn. That was a lot of reading the Bible.
“When you aren’t doing Mass, what do you do?” I asked, not sure why I was so curious about it, but Father Jude’s daily itinerary interested me. Just like he did.
“I prep for the next Mass in my office, handle any correspondence, work on the bulletin article—that sort of thing. After lunch, I often have counseling hours for families or individuals who have requested it. Late afternoons on weekdays, there is an hour open for confessionals; otherwise, it is thirty minutes before Mass on Saturday and Sunday. There is the men’s Bible study one night a week, a youth group prayer meeting once a week, Knights of Columbus one night a week. Hospital visits are also done in the late afternoons into the evenings. Staff meeting once a week. Ministry outreach leaders meeting. Loss support group after Mass on Saturday night as well.”
No wonder priests don’t have sex. When would he have time to even date?
His deep laugh made me worry that I’d said my thoughts out loud.
“You look distressed.”
I scrunched my nose. “I am. You have no time for yourself. Ever.”