Eleven
Jude
Standing at the office window, I watched as Saylor bent over, pulling out a box of something from her trunk with her butt in the air. The shorts she was wearing rode up so I could see the bottom swells of her ass cheeks. I would give anything for binoculars right now, which made me a sicko creeper. I tried to stop looking.
Just one more minute—that was all.
“You need longer shorts, Dimples.”
She stood back up and started to walk toward the door when a tall, muscular guy with tattoos approached her. I tensed. Grabbing my phone to call the cops on my way to the door, I kept my eye on her. The guy took the box, and she threw up her arms and appeared to be telling him off while he stood there, holding it. Then, she stalked around him and went to open the door.
She knew him.
I slipped my phone into my pocket, but decided I was going to check things out. Sure, the guy looked big from this distance, but she wasn’t very big. So, that wasn’t a good comparison. I wasn’t small.
How did she know the guy though? Why was he here? Her ex was dead, and that was the only guy she’d ever dated. Was he a relative?
By the time I reached the door, I’d come up with several different scenarios. I was hoping for the relative theory. Opening the door, I started to go in and noticed there was something new. A steel plate had been added to where the latch had been. I slowly opened it and bent down to see there was a thick square rod where the latch used to be.
Was this a dead bolt?
I straightened and glanced down to see there was another steel plate near the bottom. I squatted and ran my hand along the door to find a hole big enough for the bolt to go through.
What the heck?
“Father Jude!” Skylar’s voice was overly chipper as she pulled the door open.
I stood back up, letting my gaze scan the rest of the door to see what was new.
“Oh, yes, that,” she began.
My eyes snapped back to her. She had done this?
She gave me a hesitant smile. “I hope it’s okay. I just…I have a cousin who owns a lock and security company. He offered to come install new locks on the doors for free. He said with me working here late, it would make the family feel safer. Is that a problem? I should have asked. But he beat me here.”
The guy. Relief came immediately. He was family. He had been worried about her. As he should be. She was a gorgeous woman, working alone out here late at night.
“They look impressive. It’s fine. I might store the valuables here from now on,” I teased.
She let out a small laugh, but I could tell she wasn’t happy about this. From the window, I had seen she was clearly angry with him. I could only imagine how much her dad worried about her. Men looked at her everywhere she went. All heads turned. Some psycho could see her and stalk her.
Maybe get a pair of binoculars, Jude. Be careful about judging psychos when you are verging on becoming one.
She reached into the front pocket of her shorts and pulled out a key, then held it out to me. “This is yours. It opens both doors,” she told me. “Again, I am sorry. He mentioned it, and I said I would ask, and then he just showed up and did it. He did say a kid could have broken the other locks and gotten in here.”
I took the new key. “Thanks.” I hadn’t realized the locks were so ineffective. Maybe I should have him come do this to the church. “I actually came down here to check on you. I saw a guy taking the box you were carrying, and you looked upset.” I left out that I had been watching her.
“Ah, yes. That was Than. My cousin,” she explained.
“Did he leave already?” I asked, wondering how he had left that quickly. “I was going to thank him for the locks.”
She shook her head. “No need to do that. But I’ll let him know. He had to get to work.” She stepped back. “Did you want to come inside?”
Yes. Very much.
“No, I need to get back to the office. Just making sure you are good.”
“Yep!”
Mass, two scheduled confessionals with parishioners who worked evenings and couldn’t make it to the afternoon confessional hour, a counseling session with an engaged couple who I had my concerns about, the parish finance committee meeting that went through lunch due to the planning of the preschool, three hospital visits, reconciliation hour that only one person came for, and the youth prayer meeting, which consisted of the seven regulars and one guest, filled my Thursday, keeping me too busy to watch out my window at the building next door or come up with a reason to go over there.
Today, Sister Mena would be back at work, and while that should be a reason to keep me away, I already knew I was going to go check on Saylor. Make sure Sister Mena was appropriately thankful for all the work that Saylor had put into the clothes closet. The past three days, her car had been there when morning Mass ended and didn’t leave until after nine most nights.
Since yesterday had been nonstop for me, keeping me from going to see Saylor, I was curious to see what all she had done. Wednesday evening, I had stopped in to see it on my walk back to the rectory. It was almost ten, and Saylor had left thirty minutes before. The amount of work she’d put into the place in just those two days was incredible. I hadn’t known what to expect when she showed me her detailed binder, simply because I had judged her by her appearance and obvious wealth. She wasn’t a spoiled elitist. The girl had no problem getting her hands dirty.
I had one parishioner schedule reconciliation after Mass this morning, but as soon as that was completed, I checked from my window to see the pearl-colored Bentley already parked outside. Fourth morning in a row she was there by eight. It wasn’t like I needed another reason to like this girl. Her looks alone, the dimples, her vanilla and cinnamon scent—that was enough. Heck, go ahead and add the tiny gap between her front teeth to the list. Seeing her work so hard for free to help those less fortunate was only making this unwanted attraction worse.
Stepping out of my office to head over there and check on things, I almost collided with Sibby, holding two Starbucks cups. As I stepped back so we weren’t both wearing coffee, her overbright, verging-on-obnoxious smile morphed into a gasp.
“Oh, Father Jude, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed.
“No harm done,” I replied, already knowing this was going to hold me up.
Sibby held out one of the cups to me. “I thought you might enjoy a good coffee after Mass. Sister Regina was at the front desk and told me to bring it on back to you.”
Where was Kevin? He knew a visit from Sibby was the last thing I wanted. I took it, wishing she’d stop doing this. It was the second time this week. Last week, she had stopped by with Starbucks three times. The week before that, it had been once, but she had brought doughnuts another day and a lemon pound cake another.
“Thank you, Sibby,” I replied. “That’s very thoughtful.” Now, leave.
She glanced past me into my office, then bit her bottom lip. “I was hoping you had a few minutes. Perhaps we could talk in your office.”
Nope. Not happening. Not with this one. Whatever she was up to wasn’t a need for counseling. I did not trust her to be alone with me in my office. She had been raised Catholic, but for some reason, the fact that I was a priest, who had taken a vow of celibacy, did not register in her head. The flirting and possessive behavior she had been exerting more and more with me had to stop.
“If you would like to make an appointment for counseling, I have a few times available next week. I will check with one of the Sisters and see if they can join us,” I informed her, which I’d never done with another female, but Sibby required a chaperone. “My schedule today, however, is full. Prep for Sunday.”
Her immediate pout was exaggerated and not at all appropriate. “Okay, if you’re sure you don’t have but a few minutes. I’m in charge of food for Saturday’s meeting, and I wanted to go over your favorites. Make sure it’s something you want.”
I forced a smile. “Whatever you would like to bring is fine.” Just something other than pigs in a blanket that you bought in the frozen section of Sam’s Club and popped in the oven.
She batted her lashes. “All right then. I’ll be sure to impress.”
“No need to impress. Just feed the people. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Sister Mena is in need of my assistance.” That was not a lie. She needed me to make sure she was on her best behavior with Saylor.
I stepped around Sibby, who had yet to move out of the way, and headed for the exit.
“Have a good day, Father,” she called out.
I held up the cup in my hand, not stopping or turning around. “Thank you.”
Getting away from that woman was like escaping a spiderweb that kept clinging to you, no matter how hard you tried to get free.