Page 3 of His to Keep
Chewing on my nail, I hit accept. With a gasp, I slam my laptop closed. What did Ido?
Guilt unravels inside of me, and I have no idea why I accepted Adam’s request. My chest painfully squeezes as I glance at the cross on my wall. If God’s watching like Gran says he is, I pray he’ll keep this secret, or I will surely pay the price.
Chapter Two
Standing bored next to Gran, we sing along with the choir and everyone else at church. It’s Sunday morning, and the hot sun blazes mercilessly through the stained-glass windows, roasting all of us inside.
“Stopfidgeting, Ava,” Gran scolds in a harsh whisper, and I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from yelling at her. It’s not my fault. The heat is too much to bear.
Knowing she’s getting angry and on the verge of whacking me with a hymn book, my eyes wander, distracting me from purgatory.
Observing the rest of the congregation, the same faces here every Sunday are in attendance. As my eyes go further back, I spot a newcomer among the regulars.Adam, the new boy, is a few pews back with his parents. Stylish in his white shirt and tie, he resembles his handsome father. Except he has his mother’s brown curly hair.
As if sensing someone watching him, he turns my way, and our eyes meet. My stomach flips, and I’m about to drop my gaze, when he does something I don’t expect. Hesmilesat me.
Gran’s elbow digs into my ribs before I react, and as I turn to face her, frustration flares in her eyes. I face forward, but despite the looming threat of Gran’s annoyance, butterflies erupt in my chest.
After hymns finish, the priest appears from behind a red velvet curtain and motions us to sit. Mass begins, and I slump against the bench, spending the rest of the service playing with a fray on the hem of my dress. It’s not long when we must stand again to receive communion, and as Gran and I join the queue to the altar, there’s a tap on my shoulder from behind.
“Thanks for accepting my friend request,” Adam whispers into my ear so that only I hear. At least, that’s what I hope. Swallowing hard, my eyes dart in Gran’s direction. She’s not looking, but panic lodges in my throat anyway. “Do you want to—”
“Come along, Ava,” Gran snaps when she notices I’m not beside her. From the corner of my eye, Adam’s eyebrow rises as I turn to catch up with her, sure he’s taken aback by the bite of the sweet old lady’s tongue. Kneeling beside her with my head bowed, humiliation stings my chest. He definitely thinks I’m weird now.
“The Body of Christ?” Father Aaron, our priest, stands before me, staring down at me in a way that makes me instantly uncomfortable.
It’s his eyes—there’s something about them I don’t like. Always emotionless and withdrawn, they’re the lightest blue I’ve ever seen, like ice on a winter’s day.
Father Aaron isn’t like our last priest, Father Richards, who died a year ago from a heart attack. Gran said he was old and frail, and his body gave up. He was friendly and kind, and his preachings were always positive. Father Aaron’s never are. Arriving a month later to take over the parish, I didn’t think he was a priest at all when I first saw him. He’s much younger, in his mid-thirties, with only a few silver strands running through the sides of his black hair. Women consider him attractive, with his perfect bone structure, tallness, and ivory skin. But I don’t see the allure or understand how everyone seems to like him.
“Amen.” He moves the round wafer in a cross-motion before placing it into my waiting palm.
After completing a quick sign of the cross, I hurriedly return to my seat as it dissolves on my tongue. His eyes still follow, and a shiver rolls down my back, but that’s nothing new. He always watches. Always stares.
After Father Aaron makes a few announcements about charities and fundraising events the church’s organizing for summer, mass finally ends. Gran lingers behind to thank him, and as we wait, I seek Adam through the dispersing crowd, spotting him near the door about to leave with his new friends from school—
“That was another enlightening mass, Father. Thank you,” Gran breaks my attention. Father Aaron’s next to us and she holds out her hand as another thanking gesture. With reluctance, he takes it.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He releases her hand, the same time his gaze drifts in my direction. I lower my head, and if my avoidance insulted him, he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t make eye contact again, and for that, I’m glad.
Once they finish talking about what the next mass should entail, we finally join the crowd heading outside. Although I’m happy to be free of the church’s oppressive stone walls, pessimism creeps in when I don’t see Adam anywhere. What was he about to ask me?
Shoving my hair from my face, frustration sets in as I stand next to Gran near the graveyard with Roma. A friend of hers I’m not fond of. Not that she is of me.
“Hello, Ava,” she greets me formally, knowing if she had her way, she wouldn’t acknowledge me at all. All I can muster is a pressed smile in return as they talk about a town’s council meeting. “You should come, Agatha. Everyone is going.”
“And send a young girl home on her own? Don’t be absurd.”
“I sent my lot over to Joe’s for the afternoon while the meeting is on. You should send Ava. Annabelle will make sure she gets home later.”
Annabelle is Roma’s granddaughter, who I’ve never spoken to in my life. Gran’s hesitation is evident, and I want to tell the old coot that she’s wasting her time. There’s no way Gran will let me—
“Very well.” Gran turns to me while I stare back. “Be home at five for dinner. Off you go.”
Speechless with shock, I nearly race across the lawn, unable to believe Gran’s letting me go. I’m never allowed anywhere on weekends—only to church on Sundays. It’s a ten-minute walk to Joe’s, and for once, I don’t care I’m melting in the heat as I walk along the path. Taking my time to enjoy the walk, as soon as I reach Main Street, I arch my neck in search of the large willow trees. They’re old, billowy, and so pretty—but a black car blocks their view. Creeping alongside me, its tinted windows hide the driver’s identity. My heart drums against the wall of my chest as the fumes from the exhaust burn my legs. Keeping pace with me, it slinks along the edges of the sidewalk, and a sick feeling like I’m being watched behind those dark windows rattles me.
Maybe the driver took a wrong turn and is lost?It happens. Visitors often get overwhelmed by the town’s maze of back roads on the way to the city.
Waiting for the windows to roll down and reveal a flustered family desperate for directions, I jump when the engine revs and the car speeds away. I stare after it, watching it turn a corner ahead and disappear. A shudder runs through me. Continuing to walk, a little quicker than before, my interest in the scenery is long gone as I soon reach the milkshake bar.