Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia

homeless. Homeless,” Cole said.
    Her name sounded like a curse coming from his tight lips, and the word homeless could have passed for a terminal illness.
    Livia hated her stupid tendency to cry when she was angry, and she tried not to let the tears make her incoherent as she spoke. “He has a home, Cole. He has a permanent home in my heart.”
    “Take your melodramatics and leave.” Cole bristled. “My congregation should be here any minute. I have to change.”
    As she turned to leave, silently cursing Cole, Livia noticed the loft overhead. Livia walked slowly up a twisting spiral staircase. The loft was about the size of a small kitchen and opened to the church below. Just enough room for an organ . Fresh boards revealed how the floor had been reinforced. Livia wanted to feel a connection to Blake here, but it was just an empty space. She glanced out the small window that would give the future organist a peek outside—to see when the bride or the coffin arrived.
    Tonight the parking lot still held only Kyle’s car. Cole’s congregation had about fourteen minutes to assemble. Either he preached to a group of faithful Indy car drivers, or he hoped to save the souls of the candles.
    Livia was about to descend the narrow stairs when she saw a snaking, slow-moving column of people walking down the sidewalk. The column originated in the building next door.
    Livia took the steep stairs carefully. Even so, the quick descent made her a little dizzy. As she returned to the foyer, she found Cole dressed in a fresh, dry shirt. He scowled when he saw Livia still there.
    All these people are coming to church. They’ll want holy water when they enter. “Cole, the holy water!” Livia stage-whispered.
    He snapped to attention. “You get the bowl. Quick.”
    He leapt over three pews in a row and slid into a carefully concealed supply closet. Livia clambered up the aisle and found the overturned bowl. They met at the font. Livia settled the bowl where it belonged as Cole poured in new water from a plastic bottle.
    “You’d think that stuff came in something fancier,” Livia commented, forgetting his anger in the rush of a common goal.
    “You’d be surprised what’s in the containers around here,” Cole responded, seeming to forget his anger as well.
    Their eyes met and Livia watched as the anger reappeared to make them hard. But the anger melted again almost instantly when an older man eagerly pushed open the church’s front door.
    “My congregation is from the retirement community apartment building next door,” Cole explained. “We do a midnight mass every Wednesday for them. I’m sort of practicing being a priest. I know that’s not how it is done, but Father Callahan is very unconventional. He wants me to experience the whole process before making a lifetime commitment. I guess I’m young blood for the retirement community who support me very much. They’re willing to be my experimental congregation. They enjoy the clandestine meetings that give me a boost in my confidence. Not that this is any of your business.”
    As his friends entered, he finally went forward like a proud mayor, touching parishioners’ shoulders and calling them by name. He teased the men and flirted with the women. A few of the people who entered had some sort of mobility problem. No wonder the column moved slowly. Cole guided wheelchairs and held arms in support.
    Unlike a line at an amusement park, these people waited with serene peace. They were used to waiting and obviously loved Cole like he was their own child. Livia made a decision and walked out the door.
    “Hi, I’m Livia. Can I help you to your seat?” she asked a woman in a wheelchair.
    The lady smiled with her whole, crinkled face. “Yes, dear, aren’t you beautiful? I’m Bea, and I park next to the third pew on the left.”
    Cole froze as Livia pushed Bea into the foyer. After a moment he nodded once in her direction and went back to tending his flock. Livia looked at