Chapter Six
Chapter
Six
The dazzling morning sunlight did nothing to
brighten Mark’s mood. He’d seen too much the night before. At first
he’d been confused, there in his darkened car, when he’d seen the
friend heading off to the bar without Cain. Mark had been planning
to follow them and find more incriminating evidence, but what was
he supposed to do if Cain stayed inside? Then the blonde had shown
up, making it crystal clear what Cain had been waiting for. Mark
was still replaying it in his mind: the way the woman had leaned
into Cain, her hands twining through his scruffy hair, her body
practically writhing against his, promising even more pleasure once
they were behind closed doors.
Jimmy had liked blondes. He’d liked them a
lot, too much to ever settle down with just one. He’d made their
mom antsy, waiting for grandkids from the only son likely to
provide them. Mark felt guilty now, not only for his own
reproductive probabilities but for the secret relief he’d always
felt about Jimmy not rushing into anything. He’d thought Jimmy was
too irresponsible, but it had just been joie de vivre,
really, a natural enthusiasm for life. He would have risen to the
challenge of fatherhood, and if he’d been at home with his kids he
wouldn’t have been out in the bar.
But that was blaming the victim. It wasn’t
Jimmy’s fault. He had every right to go to a bar, and he should
have been safe there. He would have been safe if he hadn’t run into
the killer who was now loose, messing around with a woman of just
the sort Jimmy would have been attracted to. Cain was the cause of
all this suffering.
And Cain hadn’t broken the rules of his
parole the night before, but that was just one night. Besides, he’d
certainly broken the spirit of the rules. He was supposed to be
living carefully, mindfully, not carousing with scantily clad
women.
Mark rubbed a hand roughly over his face and
tried to think of the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. Not
since Cain had been released, certainly. Had that only been two
nights? It felt like he’d been worrying about this for much longer.
Since he’d first heard that Cain was being considered for parole,
probably. He’d managed to push his anger down for a while, but it
had still been there, nibbling on his heart.
He forced himself to step out of his car and
walk into the back of the church where the offices were found. He
was the junior priest and was happy to spend most of his time in
the field, using his energy for good works instead of bureaucracy,
but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some paperwork he should be
taking care of.
He’d been at his desk for about five minutes
and was in the middle of figuring out whether the halfway house had
really spent almost five hundred dollars on toilet paper when he
heard a soft knock on his open door. He looked up to see the
rector.
“Terry. Hi. Do you think it’s possible that
the staff at Donovan Street are selling toilet paper on the black
market?”
Terry’s smile was uncharacteristically
forced. “I doubt it.” He sat stiffly in the chair across the desk
from Mark.
“Do I want to hear whatever you’re about to
say?”
“Probably not.” The rector shifted in his
seat, then said, “I’m sorry, Mark, but the bishop has decided to
send Andrew Seally to the Inclusion and Integrity panel instead of
you.”
Mark waited for that to make sense, but it
wasn’t happening. “Andrew Seally? He has three kids. He irons his
jeans. I think he’s the straightest person I’ve even met.”
“He’s a good priest, and he cares deeply
about the issues.”
“As deeply as I do?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s not just about
caring, Mark. You know how delicate the situation is. The communion
is dissolving over this issue internationally, and it’s hardly
clear sailing even domestically. The bishop’s decision isn’t a
judgment against you as a person or a priest. It’s just a sign that
he wants someone…” Terry paused, searching for the right words.
“Maybe you’re right, and Andrew cares a little less than you do.
Maybe that’s what the bishop wants, someone who will treat it as a
theological and political issue, not a personal crusade.”
“I want to speak to him. The bishop.” Mark
stood as if he were planning to charge off right then. He gripped
the back of his chair with both hands in order to keep himself
still.
Terry stayed in his seat. “I’m sure he’d be
happy to discuss his decision with you, but I sincerely doubt he’s
going to change it. Why don’t you wait a few days until you’ve
gotten some perspective?”
“Perspective? What perspective will I need to
make myself happy with this decision?”
For the first time, Terry’s voice was a
little sharp. “Perhaps you need to approach the issue with more
humility. We are here to serve God, not ourselves. If God wished
you to be given this post, he would have seen to it that you
received it. As you have not received it, we can only assume that
God did not will it so.”
“Unless He wants to see how hard I’ll fight
for what I believe in. Unless He’s testing me, testing the Church
itself. Where’s the humility in a group of Christians judging
another group for trying to live according to the way God made
them?”
“You’re shouting, Mark.” Terry stood and
circled around the desk, and Mark wanted to run away. He forced
himself to stay still, though, and Terry’s hand on his shoulder
wasn’t as oppressive as he’d anticipated. “I know you’re
disappointed, but this is an overreaction. It’s not like you.”
Mark took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. Be well.” Terry’s smile
was gentle. “I really think you need to take some time off. I can
find someone to cover your responsibilities—”
“No!” Mark’s voice was loud again, and he
forced himself to wait until he was able to speak in a normal tone.
“I’d like to stay busy. My work is…” All I have, he thought
desperately, but he knew that saying it out loud would do nothing
to convince Terry. “It’s important to me. There’s nothing to be
done about the other situation, not really. So I’d like to keep
myself distracted.”
“Perhaps a retreat. Your work is important,
not just to you but to those you serve. Important enough that you
should be at your best while you’re doing it. A week or two at the
priory, maybe? You’ve spent time there before, and I know they’d be
happy to have you back.”
Mark had enjoyed his previous visits. The
peaceful silence broken only by the prayers of the monks, the
opportunity to read, pray, and reflect: it had been truly
rejuvenating. But this time, going on “retreat” felt all too
literal. Surely he should stay and fight, if not against the
decision of the bishop, then at least against that of the parole
board.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. “And I’ll
leave early today.”
“Not to go and sit with your parents,” Terry
said firmly. “Give Will a call and see if he wants to play some
basketball, or go for a run. Or if you’d rather be alone, give
yourself a mini-retreat right here. Just because you work in the
building doesn’t mean the church can’t be a place of sanctuary for
you when you need it.”
“Will’s at work.”
“He’s a good friend; if you need him, he’ll
leave the office. But if you’d rather wait until the end of the
day, you could finish up here, spend some time in prayer and
reflection, and meet up with him later.”
“You’re like my social secretary,” Mark said
with an affectionate smile. “Thank you, Terry.”
“I’m your spiritual guardian. And I’m also
your boss. So, please understand: I’m putting all this in the form
of a suggestion, but if you don’t follow it, it’s going to turn
into an order. Your passion is a strength, Mark, but only if you
can control it and channel it. I want you to do what it takes to be
sure you have yourself under control. Clear?”
Mark nodded. “Yes. It’s clear.”
“Okay, then.” Terry stepped back. “I’ll check
in on you in a couple hours. I’d better not find you hard at
work.”
“That’s a fairly non-traditional management
style you’ve got there.”
“It works for me.” Terry smiled, and then
just looked at Mark for a moment before nodding as if he’d seen
something he liked. “Okay. No hard work from you.”
Then he was gone, leaving Mark alone with his
thoughts. He hadn’t gotten the job. He’d lost his opportunity to
make his mark on the future of the Church. And Lucas Cain was still
walking around free, acting as if nothing bad had ever happened.
Yes, Mark was going to do what he could to deal with the second of
those problems.