Page 86 of Hotter 'N Hell

“Well, soak it all in. We’ve got the weekend, so enjoy,” Carp said.

The weekend? They would be here all weekend? A churning in my gut started to add to the other riot of things hammering down on me.

“Maureen, the nice lady that we met out front, said you had a men’s Bible study tonight, but she would call Father Heisler to take it over for you. He attends anyway, is what she said. Then, you’d be free for us to take you out to dinner. Spoil you. The workload you have and the way everything has grown—it’s just something to be celebrated.”

“She keeps up-to-date, checking the website weekly,” Carp informed me with a shake of his head.

This was my why.

These two.

It wasn’t the sin. I’d already accepted that my vows no longer had ahold on me. But these two. I had watched them lose their daughter. Grieved alongside them. And together, we had found some way to continue with this. My becoming a priest. Dedicate my life to God and his service to honor Delana.

Not realizing, one day, I’d grow up. See it all differently. But how could I hurt these two people when I knew what all they had lost? It was a level of selfishness I didn’t think I could obtain.

Hannah picked up the photo of their daughter and gazed downat it so lovingly. They had given that to me the day I left for seminary. So that I could have her with me wherever I went. She pressed a kiss to her fingertips, then placed it on the glass before raising her gaze to meet mine. “Our angel, too good for this world.”

I nodded. “Yes, she was.”

She sniffled, then placed it back on the desk.

“How is Torin?” she asked. “He still hasn’t called us. The only peace I get is knowing he is at least coming here.”

I cleared my throat as another heaping of guilt dropped onto my shoulders. “Better. He’s opening up to others more.”

“Do you think you can get him to see us?” she asked. “I know he’s stubborn. Even when Torin was a little boy, he was so determined. Set on what he wanted. What he believed.”

I rubbed my jaw, hating to tell her I doubted he’d do that. Explaining that he barely spoke to me and that I currently didn’t care to see his face was impossible.

“I, uh…well, he’s changed. Not the same guy. But I suspect prison caused that.”

She sighed, nodding her head. “I know. He’s changed his name. I just…” She shook her head. “How could he take the name we had given him—that we’d chosen when he was in my womb—and just toss it? And for a name like”—she grimaced—“Crow.”

Thirty-Three

Saylor

The glare I got from Sister Regina every time I glanced down at my phone during Mass reminded me why I didn’t like to come to Mass. I lifted my gaze from the last text I had gotten from Jude on Friday, which I now had memorized.

Jude:

Things came up. I have to cancel tonight. Tomorrow as well.

That was it. No explanation. Nothing.

I had sent back on Friday:

Saylor:

Are you okay?

Then on Saturday:

Saylor:

I’m worried about you.

But my pride would not allow me to send anything else. If he wanted to talk to me, he would. I’d gone to the support group last night, only to see him, but I was greeted by Father Heisler as the leader for the night.