Chapter Twenty
Chapter
Twenty
Mark hated being off work, especially without
having had a chance to prepare for it. He wasn’t irreplaceable, he
reminded himself. It was arrogant to think that no one else could
do what he did. But the most important part of his job was the
counseling he gave to parishioners, and he’d had to work hard to
build relationships with them. Sure, someone else could have done
it, but no one else had, so now those vulnerable people were left
with no one they trusted to speak to.
He felt almost guilty now, as he snuck in
through the back door of the church. His mother thought he was
going home to sleep, and he would soon. But first he needed to see
a few people. People who needed him. People who he could actually
help, instead of just sitting uselessly by their bedside and
watching them struggle.
“Mark.” Terry’s voice was as gentle as ever,
and he sounded almost amused as he peered into the hallway from the
doorway of his office. “I was wondering how long you’d be able to
stay away.”
“The youth group—” Mark started, but he
stopped when Terry nodded understandingly.
“As long as you’re not spreading yourself too
thin.” The older man stepped into the narrow hall. “How’s your
father? Your mother?”
Mark sighed. “He’s still not doing well. The
information I was able to find…” But that had been generic internet
searching. He was standing in front of a person who had a lot of
experience with elderly people and their medical issues. “Our
parishioners. The ones you see in the hospital. Two weeks after a
stroke, aren’t they usually getting better? Out of intensive care,
at least?”
“What do the doctors say?”
“They say they were hoping for more, but this
isn’t outside of the realm of expectations.”
“Well, that sounds reasonable to me.” Terry’s
gaze was assessing, and it occurred to Mark that the expression on
Terry’s face was becoming quite familiar. Mark had seen it often
back when he’d first started at the church—Terry had been trying to
understand his new priest and determine his strengths and
weaknesses. But after years of working together, they’d gotten to
know each other and there’d been no need for that sort of judgment.
Until a few months ago, at least. But then Mark had made a mistake,
and lost some of Terry’s trust. He hadn’t lost the man’s affection,
he was quite sure. Terry still cared. But he wasn’t sure how Mark
would react to things anymore.
It stung to realize it, and it hurt Mark’s
pride to think that he was no longer a completely trusted colleague
and professional. But there was something else, a tiny whisper in
Mark’s mind that almost seemed to be celebrating. Good, it
said. He’s realized he can’t take you for granted. It was a
ridiculous thought and Mark dismissed it as completely and as
quickly as he could.
“I’m just impatient, I suppose,” he said with
an apologetic smile. “It would be nice to have a little
certainty.”
“Of course. This is a very stressful time,
for you and your mother. How’s she holding up?”
“She’s strong. It’s a blow, and she’s had too
many of those lately. But she’s hanging in there.” Mark looked down
at his watch, then shuffled a few steps in the direction of the
meeting room. “I don’t want to miss the end of youth group. I’m
sure they’re fine without me, but I’d like to check in.”
“Oliver’s been working hard with them. He
doesn’t have your natural gift, maybe, but he’s making
headway.”
Oliver was on loan from the seminary, trying
his hand at the practical side of the ministry before returning to
his academic world. He was a pure theologian, all abstract thought
and prayers with no interest in reality. Certainly no interest in
the compromises and struggles of teenagers. But that wasn’t what
Mark was supposed to say, or even to think. “He’s conscientious. If
he’s been assigned the task, I’m sure he’ll do his best.”
Terry waited as if expecting Mark to say
more, then nodded in dismissal. “Well, I’m sure the kids will be
happy to see you.”
So Mark made his way down the hall to the
“new” part of the building—the addition built in the fifties when
the church had been booming. Generations had spent parts of their
lives in the central meeting room: dances, wedding receptions,
euchre tournaments, and, of course, the youth group. There were
only four young people there that day, huddled in one of the
corners listening more-or-less patiently as Oliver finished
speaking.
Alex was the first to notice Mark’s arrival,
and the expression on his face made Mark’s sneaking around
absolutely worthwhile. “Hey! Father Mark!” He scrambled to his feet
and almost ran across the floor toward Mark. “You’re back!” He
leaned in a little closer and said, “For good?” in a hopeful but
tactfully quiet voice.
“Just stopping in.” Mark spoke loudly enough
for the whole group to hear. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,
Father Williamson?”
There was neither malice nor amusement in
Oliver’s voice as he said, “It’s probably a good time for a break,
anyway.”
Alex’s eye roll was subtle but unmistakable.
A few months earlier he’d been a mess, cycling between abject
depression and manic agitation, but now he was confident, being
cheeky and mildly disrespectful. It was a beautiful transition, and
Mark wanted to hug the boy, or at least smile back at him. Instead,
he played the responsible adult and frowned in light disapproval at
the boy’s antics. Alex didn’t seem put off, but Mark felt a pang at
not sharing the joy. There was so much life in Alex, especially
compared to the people Mark had been spending his time with
lately.
“I need to talk to you,” Alex whispered
urgently, but he sounded excited, not alarmed. “Something big. No,
not really. But maybe.” He glanced over his shoulder toward Oliver,
then looked back toward Mark. “You’ll understand.”
In spite of himself, Mark was intrigued. And
maybe a little flattered. There it was again, that pride that he
had to keep such a tight rein on. He was nothing special, not in
himself. But if the Lord had chosen to allow a special bond to form
between him and some of his young charges, the Lord surely wouldn’t
mind if Mark enjoyed it. “Okay,” he said. “How much longer for your
session?”
“I’m done now,” Alex said firmly. He turned
back to Oliver. “Thanks for your time, Father Williamson. I don’t
think I’m going to make it to the next meeting, though. It’s a
bit…a bit God-y, you know?”
Oliver raised an eyebrow. “What exactly were
you expecting from a church-run youth group?”
“It’s what I was expecting,” Alex said
quickly. “But not what I’m looking for right now. Thanks, though!”
He grinned at Mark and turned toward the door. “It’s what I was
expecting until I went to that first meeting with you.” His voice
was too quiet for Oliver to hear, but Mark still cringed
internally. It wasn’t like their usual youth group sessions were
godless bacchanals, but maybe they did stray a little too far from
the religious principles of the sponsoring organization. After all,
the church not only owned the space they used, it also paid Mark’s
salary.
He looked back at the other three teenagers
sitting with Oliver. They had sometimes come to the meetings when
Mark had run them, but they hadn’t been regulars. Maybe they hadn’t
been getting what they were looking for from Mark. Maybe he should
have been focusing on spiritual instruction rather than emotional
support. After all, Alex could have spoken to a guidance counselor
or a psychologist or he could have phoned a hotline, for goodness
sake. There were countless places a teenager could go to find a
sympathetic ear about emotional strife, but far fewer where they
could find religious guidance. Mark hadn’t meant the groan that
escaped from him to be more than a deep exhalation, but apparently
it was loud enough to catch Alex’s attention.
“You okay?” The kid cocked an eyebrow as if
he were genuinely interested in an answer but didn’t really expect
Mark to give one.
“Do you ever get caught in your head, Alex?
So many ideas spinning around that you never seem to be able to
pick just one and stick with it?”
Alex nodded seriously, then grinned.
“Sometimes. And I know how to solve it too, but I’m not sure if
you’ll approve of the answer.”
“I’d appreciate hearing about it at
least.”
Alex leaned in and Mark mentally braced
himself. Sure enough, when Alex spoke, his voice was almost a
giggle. “I think about sex,” he whispered. “Amazing how that’ll
push every other thought right out of my brain. So I think about
that for a while, and then…you know…when I’m done thinking
about it, I’m ready to go back to whatever else I’m supposed to be
concentrating on.”
“I see,” Mark said dryly.
“Are you allowed to? You know…to…” Alex
raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“This is not an appropriate conversation,”
Mark said firmly. “And you had some news to share with me?
Something that might be a big deal?”
That was enough of a distraction. They were
standing in the central foyer, the meeting room behind them, the
main church doors to the side. Alex looked around to be sure no one
was close enough to hear, then stage whispered, “I met a guy!”
Yeah, that was what Mark had thought. He
smiled at the younger man’s excitement. “Where’d you meet him?
What’s he like?”
“He works at the farm. You know, Elise’s
place, with the rescue animals? She hired him. He’s been there a
couple weeks.” Alex nodded enthusiastically, then made an obvious
effort to cool down. “He’s a bit older. I’m not sure how old,
really. He doesn’t talk much. But he’s really nice. And so cute!
Kind of scruffy, but with these fantastic cheekbones and really
green eyes. And he’s cut. He had his shirt off the other day and I
almost passed out, I swear.”
Mark nodded through the blur of information.
“And he likes you back? Just how old are we talking, here?”
“I told you, I don’t know how old. Out of