Thief by Linda Windsor

feel it and know it is there. And you will see its results, its fruits,” Martin explained. “They may not be instant, but they will come, one change, one conflict at a time. Where you fell short of God’s grace yesterday, you will succeed tomorrow. Pottery is not formed at once, but requires constant shaping, reshaping, hardening, glazing, baking. Our spirits are clay in the Master Potter’s hands.”
    Just as Caden was about to protest that he wasn’t a blasted piece of stoneware, something Caden’s mother said came to mind. Adam had been made from clay. And man did grow bigger and bigger, from infancy to adulthood.
    “So the spirit grows and matures,” Caden concluded.
    “So it is,” Martin replied. He placed his hand on Caden’s forehead. “Peace be with you, Caden of Glenarden.”
    Peace. Yes, that is what Caden wanted more than anything. A peace that would not leave him, as that garnered from nature’s surroundings did, when he was in the presence of his fellow man.
    “What is it you seek from God, Caden?”
    Herthfire! And just as he began to grasp the priest’s words. Was there a right or wrong answer?
    “Peace—what else?”
    “Everlasting life with your Father in Heaven?” Martin prompted.
    Instead of nothingness? Or worse, the demons of his dreams? Caden supposed that would lead to peace.
    “Yes, that will do.” To Caden’s astonishment, something deep within kindled. Something he had not known for a long time. Hope? Nay, more than that. More than even peace.
    “I’ve longed for a father ,” he managed past a blade of emotion thick as a plowshare.
    “I know, son.”
    Though the words came from Martin’s lips, Caden heard them from the voice within. More of the hard wall about his heart fell away.
    “And our Heavenly Father is love, unconditional love. No matter how much we fail Him, all He asks of us is that we try again. He even picks us up to help with a second chance.”
    As his maithar had when he’d fallen as a child, Caden recalled. Not Tarlach, though. The only way to get his father’s attention was to invoke his wrath. The hurt was unbearable, even now twenty-odd years later. And there was no holding it back. It bled from his soul, racking his body, wringing his eyes until Caden wondered where the water came from.
    “If, then, you wish to inherit everlasting life with the loving Father on High, keep the commandments : ‘Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself.’”
    “I will.” At least Caden intended to try.
    “With God’s help,” Martin added.
    “Aye, I will, with God’s help.” Caden frowned. “Though calling Him God makes Him sound so far away.”
    “Jesus called Him Abba … which is much like our da,” Martin clarified. “Something tells me God won’t mind if you do as well.”
    Abba . It felt right.
    Father Martin spit on his thumb and made the sign of the cross on Caden’s forehead. “Receive then, this sign of the cross on your brow and on your heart. Trust with your whole being in the Word, and lead a life that will make you fit to be a dwelling place for the Holy Spirit.”
    Abba . The earlier quickening in Caden began to warm, igniting an otherworldly flame that crept slowly to the furthest reaches of his body.
    “Pray with me, child of the Living God,” Martin said. “Lord, if it pleases You, hear our prayer …”
    “Lord, if it pleases You, hear our prayer …”
    “By Your supreme power, protect Your chosen son Caden, now marked with the sign of our Savior’s holy cross …”
    “By Your supreme power, protect me, now marked by the Savior’s holy cross, Father …” Caden’s clasped hands seemed welded by the heat that flowed through them.
    “Let me treasure this first sharing of Your sovereign glory …” Martin coached.
    Was that what it was? Caden wondered, echoing Martin’s words. For no longer did he feel the cold, damp sand