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)
What if he did? How would I survive it? He’d told me he wouldn’t hurt me. I had believed him. Was he feeling guilty about what we were doing?
I pressed a fist to my stomach, focusing on my breathing. I would not have a complete breakdown in this line. I was overreacting. That was all.
I listened, completely tuned in to his deep drawl. His words were that of a priest, yet his voice was not fitting it at all. But then I had heard that voice say dirty things. I’d heard him as he got off. I knew the man no one else did.
A couple stopped, and the woman gushed, then nodded her head to the older lady in front of me and then me since I was last. It looked like they were waiting.
No, no, no. Leave, clingy people. I need him alone. Not with you standing there.
Frustration mounted as the older lady in front of me left, and finally, Jude’s gaze met mine. I saw it then. Something was very wrong.
Why were these people still standing there?
Go away!
“It was good to see you in service today, Miss Rice,” he said, then turned to look at the couple waiting on him. “Carp, Hannah, this is Miss Saylor Rice. She’s been volunteering at the free clothes closet, and she’s helping to set up a food pantry.”
The lady he had called Hannah beamed at me. “That is just wonderful. I love seeing young people with a servant’s heart. It seems you have beauty inside and out.”
That was sweet. Thanks. Now, you can go.
“I was hoping I could speak with you about that,” I said when it was clear he was dismissing me.
His gaze hardened. “I am terribly sorry. There isn’t an availability for that on my schedule today. Sister Mena, however, would be an excellent one to discuss any questions you have.”
I felt sick. My skin was clammy. I blinked. He gave me a generic smile that did not meet his eyes as he nodded his head, as if I should leave now.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah said behind me.
Turning as I tried to process this, I looked at her.
She gave me an apologetic smile. “We’re in town, visiting with Father Jude. We’ve got his time monopolized all day.”
I nodded, and I didn’t know if I smiled or grimaced. My face felt numb. I couldn’t look at him. I began walking. My feet taking me farther away.
That had been obvious. He had not wanted to talk to me. He was shutting me out.
I stared out at the parking lot, not sure where I had parked my car.
What had I done? I tried to remember our last time together. It had been in the rectory. He’d sent me a text to meet him in there Friday. We ripped each other’s clothes off, and then he bent me over the table and took me. Spilling inside me, telling me how perfect I was. He kissed me and said he’d see me that night.
Then, the text had come exactly one hour later.
It didn’t make sense.
“Is everything okay?”
Hannah’s question startled me, and I turned around to see her and a man standing at the Cadillac parked in the visitor spot.
No. It was not okay.
“Did you lose your car? That happens to me every time I go to Target. I stay too long. Come out, and I don’t have a clue where I left it.”
Who were they? They were here, visiting. Had they arrived Friday? Had their arrival triggered this?
“Uh, no. It’s right, um, over there,” I stammered out. Then glanced back at the church. “Are you Father Jude’s relatives?” Although he hadn’t addressed them as such.
Her smile turned sad. “No. But it feels like it. He’s been in our lives a long time,” she told me. “Before he was a priest, he did love a woman once. Well, a girl. Our daughter and Jude were part of the rare few who find the one at a young age. Her passing is what sent him into the ministry.”
Delana’s parents.
I managed an, “I’m so sorry,” and, “It was lovely to meet you,” or something like that, then continued to walk, unsure of where I was going.
The truths I hadn’t seen, the lies I’d believed, the facts I’d ignored—it all hit me like pelts of hail, hammering down on my soul, battering my already-damaged heart.
Thirty-Four
Saylor
Although I spotted my car, I kept walking. I knew my limits, and driving in the condition I was in wasn’t safe for anyone. I needed to get away from everything. Find my will to inhale and exhale, get a firm footing on my reality, and understand what this meant.
The Closed signs as I made my way down the street began to create a pattern in my head. After lunch, some would begin to open while others still had too much damage. Sunday in a small Southern town wasn’t a bustling day for business unless you served up a meat and three for lunch.