8. Father Alexander
Father Alexander
She looked like a scared little lamb when she ran into me in the hallway earlier this morning. The fear in her eyes haunted my mind all day.
It was as if she were trying to communicate with me only through her stare, pleading with me to help her. Before she could say anything, Father Keaton had come down the hall to have Sister Alice escort her to the room she would be staying in.
He reassured me she was okay and that she was having second thoughts about her decision to be here. The tone in his voice told me not to ask any other questions about the situation, so I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut and went about my day, Celine still teetering on the cusp of my mind.
I watch as she walks into the dining hall with Sister Alice. Her eyes wandering around the tables, taking in the scene of the other women enjoying their meals. The horrified expression was gone from her face; instead, she looked almost annoyed. As if she couldn’t be bothered to be here.
I observe her as Sister Alice escorts her to the food line.
Her white dress flows behind her as she walks between the tables.
My eyes can’t help but scan down the fabric.
Every dress looks the same, but when she wears it, it looks different for some reason.
On Celine, the white dress makes her appear as if she were a real-life angel.
As she begins walking to the table she will be sitting at, I pick up the roll on my plate and take a bite when Father Keaton sits beside me and says, “She’ll fit in well.”
“Are you sure? She looks like she’d rather be any place but here.”
He inhales deeply through his nose, sparing a glance at Celine. “Some women have come here before your time and have behaved the same way. She is afraid, which is a normal reaction. This is a new place for her, and she doesn’t understand that we are trying to help her.”
My eyes drop to my plate as soon as Celine stops at the table across from mine.
I don’t want Father Keaton to notice me staring at her for too long, so I scoop a spoonful of yogurt into my mouth and lift my eyes just a bit to see her being introduced to the three women.
After she takes a seat, she gives the other women a tight smile as they introduce themselves.
I keep watching her interact with them. Her body is stiff as she keeps herself guarded, asking them questions and listening to what they have to say.
When the conversation ends, Joanna and Bekah start speaking with one another. Celine keeps quiet and picks at a piece of bread on her plate. Her lips are in a pout, the skin between her brows creases, and she scrunches her nose as she inspects the meal.
Father Keaton has fallen into conversation with Sister Alice, who has now joined us. While he’s occupied, I take the time to really study Celine.
Her skin has a natural glow, and her green eyes are as soft as watercolor paint. She has a perfect nose. The tip turns upward in the slightest, as you’d see on a fairy. My eyes find hers again, and my body stiffens when I see her staring back at me. I clear my throat, dropping my gaze to my food.
“Father Alexander?” My jaw slows its movement when Father Keaton says my name.
I hum in response, turning my head in his direction.
“Will you keep an eye on Celine? I only ask because I’m afraid she might attempt to run again, and if that happens, I would be worried about her well-being.
And the panic it would send her parents into. ”
“Sure,” I agree. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Thank you.” He smiles. “You are a great asset to the church.”
I offer another thank you before he returns to his conversation with Sister Alice. When I look across the aisle to the other table, Celine no longer has her eyes on me, so I continue to eat my food as Father Keaton’s words swirl in my mind—a great asset.
I’ve been a priest for four years, and have only been at this convent for one of those years, while he has been a priest for much longer. I’m not sure how valuable I will be, as I’m still learning how things work around here.
After every terrible thing that happened in my past, being a part of the church has kept me out of trouble. But trouble has a way of wreaking havoc on people who are old friends with it, and I feel it deep in my soul that I’m going to be reunited with my old friend soon.
Slightly lifting my eyes, I find Celine has finished the food on her plate and is dismissing herself from the table. She walks to the trash can, sets the empty plate on the small table next to it, and leaves the room while everyone else keeps eating.
The clearing of a throat catches my attention, and when I turn to look at Father Keaton, he gestures with his head for me to follow her.
Standing from the table, I go after her. When I enter the hall, I look left and right to see which way she went, catching a glimpse of her to the right before she turns a corner. It seems she is heading toward the chapel. Near the lobby.
With quick steps, I rush to her. My heart races because if she leaves, the trouble I’m trying to steer clear of will find me with Father Keaton. As I round another corner, I see Celine entering the courtyard.
A sigh of relief leaves me, knowing that she isn’t trying to run, and I slow my steps. When I set foot in the courtyard, she is hovering her hand over the tops of some pink flowers, the petals barely touching her skin.
“Are you stalking me?” she asks without sparing me a glance.
“Just keeping an eye on you,” I respond, taking a step forward to get closer to her.
Her hand stops above one of the flowers, where she extends a finger to run it gently along the petal. “Afraid I’m going to run?”
“No,” I lie as I watch how carefully her finger grazes over the delicate plant.
Celine turns toward me, narrowing her bright eyes. “You’re being dishonest, Father Alexander.”
The way she says my name causes a chill to roll down my spine. “I’m not afraid you will run, but—”
“Father Keaton is.” It isn’t a question, but I nod, and she returns her attention to the flowers, sighing with annoyance. “I’m not going to run.”
“That’s good to hear,” I say. She hums in response, moving toward another set of flowers, these ones purple, and I lightly run my hand along the petals she had just touched. “I think you will like it here.”
“Do you like it here?” she quips.
“I haven’t been here for too long, but so far, I do.”
“Where were you before?” she asks, facing me with her hands behind her back.
Being this close to her, I see her eyes aren’t as green as I thought. There is a hue to them that makes them appear almost gray. Maybe it’s just the lighting, but they are mesmerizing.
I catch myself lingering on her eyes and say, “My local church.”
“This isn’t your local church?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I’m from New York.”
Her brows lift, and she brings her arms out from behind her back and crosses them over her chest.
“You’re a long way from home, then. What made you want to come to California?”
When I started working here, I was told not to share too many details about my life with the women who attend the convent. That I wasn’t supposed to have that sort of relationship with them. I’m here to sometimes preach and to listen to confessions. That’s it, which is why I keep my answer simple.
“The opportunity to work at Grace Community.” I give her the half-truth.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Is this church really that amazing that you moved across the country for it?”
I take a moment to think of my answer. The fact that I heard about this church while living across the country means it is well-known, and they must have been doing something right if other churches are praising them.
I decide to go with the full truth this time. “All of the things I’ve heard about it seemed to make it sound amazing.”
“And is it living up to your expectations?” she asks, allowing her arms to drop to her side.
I slowly nod. “It is.”
She hums again, casting her eyes down to the flowers. “At least you’re enjoying it here.”
“You will enjoy it, too,” I attempt to reassure her. “Once you get comfortable here, I promise.”
Celine’s laugh is a soft sound that warms my body.
A warmth that I haven’t felt in a while, which scares me.
Lifting her gaze from the flowers to where I stand, she moves closer, stopping when she is beside me, facing the exit.
Her head turns in my direction, and she looks up at me through her thick lashes.
“There you go, being dishonest again, Father Alexander.” She tsks. “You should never make promises you can’t keep.”
My jaw clenches, teeth pressing together to the point that it brings me pain. Before I can respond, she looks forward and leaves me in the courtyard. Where she is going, I don’t know, but I’m not going to follow her like a shadow.
I said that trouble was going to find me here. It will pierce me through the heart like a sharp sword, and I believe Celine will be the one to wield that weapon.