almost as if I’d received a new day’s vision on His earth.
He told me to focus on a certain police officer as he walked the street toward our church. I watched the servant of the law when he stopped, talking into his shoulder mic, less than a block away. His name was Cope. We had met before, spoken to one another about this very bush. I cut back a few protruding sprigs. His look showed concern.
He watched the church. I bowed slightly, stayed beneath the line of our courtyard wall.
The officer scrutinized the chapel so closely, as if examining who we were and what we offered. Then he checked his watch, spoke into his mic again, and turned away. He walked back up the street the way he had come, heading toward the station.
Something was wrong. I knew God had shown me this for a reason. I knew I had to run.
Emily? I asked Him. What about Emily?
He didn’t answer.
Sometimes His instructions had to be enough, even if partial. Anything He offered was truly a blessing—His gift.
I tucked the shears into my vest and retreated inside the chapel, down the stairs to the rectory. No one saw me slip into my room. She was here, sat up from the bed as soon as I entered, concerned, almost as if I’d woken her, though it was well after noon.
Her eyebrows came together. She saw it in my face, wanted to know if I was okay.
“Yes, my dear. I’m fine.” Something in my face betrayed me, but she didn’t inquire further. For this once, she didn’t press me. Perhaps this too was His gift, Him watching over me, over us.
“I love you,” I said, crossing the room to give her a kiss on her temple. Pulling the covers up to her chin, even just a little above, I said, “Stay warm. Your fever is high.” I touched her forehead, felt the heat. She was not well. I worried, but He didn’t direct me to stay and watch her care. I would help when I returned.
I took my jacket out of the wardrobe and slipped it on, my wallet still heavy in the pocket. On the shelf at the top of the wardrobe were my things: my Good News Bible, a small pocketknife, my various keys. The pictures of Emily that I had taken from Piper’s and Farrow’s apartments. From Dub’s. I wanted to travel light but didn’t know when I would be back, the whole of His plan. I left the knife and the Good Book, took the keys. He told me to hurry. I tucked the pictures inside the front cover of the Bible.
At the door, I looked back at her again. She had fallen asleep or pretended to do so.
“Be still, my love,” I whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”
Out in the hall, all was quiet. I was alone. I slipped up the side stairs and outside without anyone seeing. Perhaps many of the priests were in confessional or tending to their chores. Some surely were out helping the city’s poor.
I slipped through the gate and looked across the street to St. Anthony’s, where He told me to go. I saw Gus outside and knew Jermaine would be manning the front desk until three o’clock. I shouldn’t involve them, I knew. He wanted me to go around and enter through the back, as if making a delivery. This was why He had told me to take my keys. I did my best to follow, walked to my right, taking the long way around the block so as not to be seen. No one should notice that I’d left; they knew I was at my work, completing my duties and chores. They would never understand my obligations coming directly from Him, that it superseded whatever plans they had for one another.
Even those who carefully read their Bibles, sometimes even they didn’t believe or understand the machinations of God. Truly, I didn’t either. But I knew when to follow Him and be led.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DONNER
The girl made a mewling noise in the back of her throat, like a lost cat.
“My child.” Father Kevin tried moving into the room past Hendricks.
“Someone get him out of here,” I said.
“Right behind you,” Hendricks said. He left, taking the priest. I could hear them talking down the hall.
I
He told me to focus on a certain police officer as he walked the street toward our church. I watched the servant of the law when he stopped, talking into his shoulder mic, less than a block away. His name was Cope. We had met before, spoken to one another about this very bush. I cut back a few protruding sprigs. His look showed concern.
He watched the church. I bowed slightly, stayed beneath the line of our courtyard wall.
The officer scrutinized the chapel so closely, as if examining who we were and what we offered. Then he checked his watch, spoke into his mic again, and turned away. He walked back up the street the way he had come, heading toward the station.
Something was wrong. I knew God had shown me this for a reason. I knew I had to run.
Emily? I asked Him. What about Emily?
He didn’t answer.
Sometimes His instructions had to be enough, even if partial. Anything He offered was truly a blessing—His gift.
I tucked the shears into my vest and retreated inside the chapel, down the stairs to the rectory. No one saw me slip into my room. She was here, sat up from the bed as soon as I entered, concerned, almost as if I’d woken her, though it was well after noon.
Her eyebrows came together. She saw it in my face, wanted to know if I was okay.
“Yes, my dear. I’m fine.” Something in my face betrayed me, but she didn’t inquire further. For this once, she didn’t press me. Perhaps this too was His gift, Him watching over me, over us.
“I love you,” I said, crossing the room to give her a kiss on her temple. Pulling the covers up to her chin, even just a little above, I said, “Stay warm. Your fever is high.” I touched her forehead, felt the heat. She was not well. I worried, but He didn’t direct me to stay and watch her care. I would help when I returned.
I took my jacket out of the wardrobe and slipped it on, my wallet still heavy in the pocket. On the shelf at the top of the wardrobe were my things: my Good News Bible, a small pocketknife, my various keys. The pictures of Emily that I had taken from Piper’s and Farrow’s apartments. From Dub’s. I wanted to travel light but didn’t know when I would be back, the whole of His plan. I left the knife and the Good Book, took the keys. He told me to hurry. I tucked the pictures inside the front cover of the Bible.
At the door, I looked back at her again. She had fallen asleep or pretended to do so.
“Be still, my love,” I whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”
Out in the hall, all was quiet. I was alone. I slipped up the side stairs and outside without anyone seeing. Perhaps many of the priests were in confessional or tending to their chores. Some surely were out helping the city’s poor.
I slipped through the gate and looked across the street to St. Anthony’s, where He told me to go. I saw Gus outside and knew Jermaine would be manning the front desk until three o’clock. I shouldn’t involve them, I knew. He wanted me to go around and enter through the back, as if making a delivery. This was why He had told me to take my keys. I did my best to follow, walked to my right, taking the long way around the block so as not to be seen. No one should notice that I’d left; they knew I was at my work, completing my duties and chores. They would never understand my obligations coming directly from Him, that it superseded whatever plans they had for one another.
Even those who carefully read their Bibles, sometimes even they didn’t believe or understand the machinations of God. Truly, I didn’t either. But I knew when to follow Him and be led.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DONNER
The girl made a mewling noise in the back of her throat, like a lost cat.
“My child.” Father Kevin tried moving into the room past Hendricks.
“Someone get him out of here,” I said.
“Right behind you,” Hendricks said. He left, taking the priest. I could hear them talking down the hall.
I
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