Catholics, we have been challenged to live as people of faith
during these dark and unforgiving times.”
Roosting pigeons cooed in agreement as the flap of their wings
resonated. Aleksender cocked his head and observed the pair of frolicking
birds. They playfully dove in and of the wooden beams and rafters, perfectly
content and oblivious to the cryptic atmosphere. And in his mind’s eye, it was the
silhouette of an eagle that loomed above him—the Angel of Death, an
ever-present and sinister force …
A strange envy overcame Aleksender as the pigeons escaped through the
shattered window. He stifled a deep groan and adjusted his posture. No escape
or comfort was to be found. Alas, the pewter bench seemed to be carved from
solid rock rather than rosewood … and the surrounding walls resembled bars
rather than planks.
“I would like to begin today with a passage from Matthew: 5. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven.”
Aleksender warily glanced at his brother’s profile. Richard’s head was
bowed, both eyes fastened shut. What he was reflecting on was no great mystery.
The death of their father was one wound that would never heal. A sharp pang of
guilt overcame Aleksender. Their luncheon on the veranda only added insult to
injury. Neither of them would ever live up to their father’s legacy. Richard
was too full of self-loathing and set in his ways, while Aleksender was far too
damaged.
“Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
Next to him, Elizabeth blankly stared forward. But her eyes betrayed
the show of outward calm. The delicate bond they’d shared for so many years had
begun to unravel. There was no denying it. Elizabeth suspected something
between him and his ward. Of that he was certain.
Anyone with half a mind could see it.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”
As for his little Sofia …
Her nearness was intoxicating. The warmth of her body radiated, filling
all five of his senses with roses and wintertime.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”
After their night out, it was Sofia’s breathless plea that had opened
Aleksender’s eyes to the truth. Alek, I want you
to kiss me again.
That kiss had sealed their fate. And his immediate self-defense had
been to blame the Voisin’s “finely aged wine.”
At first, silence had been his reply. And then gently, carefully, and
ever so tenderly, their lips had come together in a chaste kiss. In itself, it
had been quite harmless—proving to be little more than a kiss shared between
ward and guardian. But it had whispered of irrevocable repercussions.
Aleksender’s lashes had blinked shut in an attempt to escape from his longings.
But the bridge had already been crossed. And every barricade, every emotional
defense and logical fortress, had burned to the ground.
A decent man would have pulled away. A decent man would have corrected
the poor girl’s delusional thoughts and straightened her thinking.
But Aleksender was far from a decent man.
Instead, a pair of trembling arms had enveloped her waist. He’d tilted
his head and reverently bowed his face, inhaling her femininity. Gathering her
to his chest, he’d tugged her impossibly close, never intending to let go,
allowing their two heartbeats to consummate as one—
“Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness’ sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Amen.”
A moment of silence descended over the patrons of Chapel Saint Leonard.
Aleksender conformed to his surroundings and followed suit, bowing his face in
personal grief rather than prayer.
•
Sunday mass concluded two hours later. Needing urgently to speak with
Sofia, Aleksender had inquired Richard if he’d mind escorting Elizabeth back to
the chateau. “I should say not,” he’d replied, meaning each word. “It would be
a pleasure.” Aleksender had winced, stung by the bitterness that tinted his
brother’s
during these dark and unforgiving times.”
Roosting pigeons cooed in agreement as the flap of their wings
resonated. Aleksender cocked his head and observed the pair of frolicking
birds. They playfully dove in and of the wooden beams and rafters, perfectly
content and oblivious to the cryptic atmosphere. And in his mind’s eye, it was the
silhouette of an eagle that loomed above him—the Angel of Death, an
ever-present and sinister force …
A strange envy overcame Aleksender as the pigeons escaped through the
shattered window. He stifled a deep groan and adjusted his posture. No escape
or comfort was to be found. Alas, the pewter bench seemed to be carved from
solid rock rather than rosewood … and the surrounding walls resembled bars
rather than planks.
“I would like to begin today with a passage from Matthew: 5. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven.”
Aleksender warily glanced at his brother’s profile. Richard’s head was
bowed, both eyes fastened shut. What he was reflecting on was no great mystery.
The death of their father was one wound that would never heal. A sharp pang of
guilt overcame Aleksender. Their luncheon on the veranda only added insult to
injury. Neither of them would ever live up to their father’s legacy. Richard
was too full of self-loathing and set in his ways, while Aleksender was far too
damaged.
“Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
Next to him, Elizabeth blankly stared forward. But her eyes betrayed
the show of outward calm. The delicate bond they’d shared for so many years had
begun to unravel. There was no denying it. Elizabeth suspected something
between him and his ward. Of that he was certain.
Anyone with half a mind could see it.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”
As for his little Sofia …
Her nearness was intoxicating. The warmth of her body radiated, filling
all five of his senses with roses and wintertime.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”
After their night out, it was Sofia’s breathless plea that had opened
Aleksender’s eyes to the truth. Alek, I want you
to kiss me again.
That kiss had sealed their fate. And his immediate self-defense had
been to blame the Voisin’s “finely aged wine.”
At first, silence had been his reply. And then gently, carefully, and
ever so tenderly, their lips had come together in a chaste kiss. In itself, it
had been quite harmless—proving to be little more than a kiss shared between
ward and guardian. But it had whispered of irrevocable repercussions.
Aleksender’s lashes had blinked shut in an attempt to escape from his longings.
But the bridge had already been crossed. And every barricade, every emotional
defense and logical fortress, had burned to the ground.
A decent man would have pulled away. A decent man would have corrected
the poor girl’s delusional thoughts and straightened her thinking.
But Aleksender was far from a decent man.
Instead, a pair of trembling arms had enveloped her waist. He’d tilted
his head and reverently bowed his face, inhaling her femininity. Gathering her
to his chest, he’d tugged her impossibly close, never intending to let go,
allowing their two heartbeats to consummate as one—
“Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness’ sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Amen.”
A moment of silence descended over the patrons of Chapel Saint Leonard.
Aleksender conformed to his surroundings and followed suit, bowing his face in
personal grief rather than prayer.
•
Sunday mass concluded two hours later. Needing urgently to speak with
Sofia, Aleksender had inquired Richard if he’d mind escorting Elizabeth back to
the chateau. “I should say not,” he’d replied, meaning each word. “It would be
a pleasure.” Aleksender had winced, stung by the bitterness that tinted his
brother’s
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