Page 21 of Hunt for You

But a silk sleeping mask, a tube of lanolin, four jar candles in scents that I liked—with wooden wicks and lids that could stand up on their own… and abible?

I’d had to read that one several times before I was sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

Then I laughed.

And then I went shopping.

And now I had everything but the bible. And that little niggle in the back of my head kept making me snicker to myself. Because it was too perfect. How had he known?

He hadn’t, of course, it was a coincidence. I knew forcertainGerald wasn’t running in any of the circles that Cain did. But it did make me look over my shoulder for a while. Because it was too perfect.

But then again, why not? Gerald would be so proud.

So, once I had everything paid for and packed into the car, I looked at my phone, decided I had time for the forty-minute drive, and set off. Because I wanted to get started. And I couldn’t do that until I had all these things.

And if I was going in hunt of a freaking Bible of all things, and Gerald wanted me to talk to the one person who’d give me good advice without needing anything from me… well… two birds with one stone.

Richard would have a bible I could have. I was certain of it. And it gave me an ice-breaker when he freaked out because he hadn’t seen me in several years.

I was surprised about how nervous I was on the drive. Richard had always been clear that I was welcome anywhere he was. And in recent years, he always sent a Christmas card with a handwritten note, and he’d emailed a couple of times, too.

He was semi-retired now, and so close, it was a shame we didn’t see each other more. Wouldn’t I like to jump in the car sometime?

Last Christmas was the first that passed since high school where I didn’t get a card from him. I hadn’t had an email in a few months either, though. So maybe he was giving up on me. Maybe I’d finally pissed him off by ignoring all his efforts.

I prayed to the God he worshiped that wasn’t the case. It would be good to see him again. And since I wasn’t going to be around much longer, it would be our last chance.

Not that I’d tell him that. But still.

When I finally found the church in the little backwater named Dayne, I was surprised by the size of the parking lot. But it was right next to the highway, and there was a big truck stop just half a mile down the road, so maybe they were the kind of place that got a lot of travelers.

I pulled the visor down in my car and checked my hair before I got out, which was stupid.

Father Richard—I called him Father Dick, which always made his eyes twinkle—had to be almost eighty by now. Or maybe he wasn’t that old if he only retired a few years ago. Maybe he just felt that old because we met when I was fourteen and he already had gray hair.

Well, I was going to find out. I caught myself smoothing my shirt down nervously and stopped myself. Richard was the warmest, sweetest person on the planet. If he didn’t smile when he saw me, no one was going to.

That thought didn’t make me feel better.

It wasn’t until I got up to the top of the stairs and realized that the arched, double front doors were locked that it occurred to me that churches didn’t stay open all week like businesses.

And I felt so dumb.

I’d just driven forty minutes to stand on a step at a church alongside the highway and feel stupid. Because of course no one was there on a Thursday afternoon in August. I quickly read the sign next to the door that said services were Sunday mornings, Sunday and Wednesday evenings, and that group meets were in the hall behind the chapel.

Maybe there would be someone there? I could go look, and while I was walking around, I’d check my email and send him a message just in case he was close. Maybe he had a cellphone number on it.

Or maybe I was stupid and this had been a dumb idea all along.

I was surprised by how disappointed I felt. I’d been making excuses to avoid Richard for years. And yet, maybe I shouldn’t have, because now I kind of felt weepy. That was even dumber.

“Idiot,” I muttered, tucking my hair behind my ears, as I started to turn, looking for the path around the building.

“Well, that’s a little harsh,” a thin, warm voice said behind me. “If you’d told me you were coming I would have made sure we had the parade ready!”

I gasped and whirled to find a beaming, white-haired old man with craggy lines around his eyes, and a fully-bald pate ringed in scrappy white whiskers now. When I gaped at him, his smile got even broader, if that was possible.

“It reallyisyou, Bridget! Thank God!” His eyes were misty as he threw his arms wide.