16. Celine #2
“Oh my god, you scared me!” I say breathlessly.
“Look who decided to show up.” Sister Greta looks me over with a disappointed grunt.
“I’m sorry,” I comb my fingers through my hair, my breathing finally calming down. “I got busy with lessons and—”
She lifts a hand to silence me. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. If you aren’t going to take your job here in the library seriously, you might as well turn around and leave.”
My brows crease. “I am taking this seriously.”
“Could have fooled me.” Her hand motions for me to step aside. She hobbles down the narrow hall, and I follow after her.
“I’m not leaving. I enjoy being in here.” More than she knows.
Being surrounded by books, even if they aren’t what I am used to, this library gives me the smallest taste of my life outside of these stone walls.
“Then prove it,” she snaps.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” There is a hint of aggravation in my tone. “On a Sunday, when I am not required to be.”
Sister Greta stops, turning to face me. Her eyes narrow and her lips purse. To my surprise, she doesn’t say anything snarky. “I’m leaving for the rest of the day. I have obligations to attend to.”
“I’ll have your office spotless by tomorrow.”
She chuckles in disbelief and walks out of the library. As soon as she is gone, I roll my neck and head to the cleaning closet to get the supplies.
Luckily, the shelves look about the same as they did when I left them a few days ago. No new dust has been collected, which makes me feel like I can actually get her office cleaned by the end of the night. Grabbing the supplies from the closet, I get to work.
I lost track of time again. I was so focused on the task at hand that I hadn’t realized how long I’d been in here until I looked out the window, and the sun had already set.
I quickly finish up, feeling accomplished and tired. After putting the supplies away, I glance at the clock on Sister Greta’s desk to find that it is seven at night. I stand there, trying to figure out how long I’ve been cleaning because I don’t remember what time I arrived at the library.
Prayer started after noon and ended at one. We then ate lunch, which always lasts about an hour. After that, we went to the courtyard for a few minutes. Have I really been cleaning for almost five hours?
Looking around the spotless room, pride flows through my chest. But then I glance at the clock again and curse to myself because I missed dinner. Maybe there is still food out, and I can take my dinner up to my room.
From where I am standing, I hear footsteps enter the library. Since it has been a while since Sister Greta left, maybe she is returning from whatever she was doing.
Walking down the hall, I plaster a massive smile on my face as I prepare to gloat that her office is squeaky clean.
“You will not find one speck of dust in your office. I told you—”
I come to a halt when I see that it is not Sister Greta who entered the library, but Father Alexander. He is holding a plate piled with food, a slight grin on his lips.
“Sorry, I thought you were Greta. I mean, Sister Greta,” I apologize and correct myself because I know how much it bothers these people to be called by only their name.
“That’s okay. I’m glad to hear you finished cleaning her office.”
“Took me way too long, but it’s done.” I point to the plate in his hand. “Is that for me?”
“It is.” He sets it on one of the desks stationed at the back of the library. “You weren’t at dinner, again.”
I step forward to inspect what is on the plate—steak with mashed potatoes and broccoli. A fancy dinner tonight, and it smells incredible. “Will you always deliver my food if I miss dinner?”
“I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”
“That is very kind of you.”
No one else notices when I’m not at dinner. Well, scratch that. I’m sure Joanna notices, but she probably doesn’t care that much that she’d offer to bring me my meal. Esther notices I’m gone, but I don’t expect her to go out of her way to make sure I eat.
“I’ll take it to my room and eat it there.”
I go to grab the plate, but stop when he says, “Eat it here.”
My eyes lift from the food, and I look at him through my lashes. “What?”
“It’s already late, and I want to make sure you actually eat it.” He nods towards the chair. “Sit.”
I know he doesn’t mean to sound so demanding and rough, but he does, and it is sending butterflies to my stomach that decide to travel between my legs.
Pulling out the chair, I slowly take a seat and drag the plate closer to me, cutting the steak with the knife and fork he provided. I sense the heaviness in his stare as I take the first bite.
“Are you going to stand there and watch me eat the entire meal?” I ask, cutting another piece. This time, when I take a bite, I look directly into his eyes.
He shakes his head, spinning on his heel towards the bookshelf next to him, where he grabs a book at random. Sitting across from me, he opens the book and begins to read.
“I don’t need someone to babysit me while I eat.” I scoop up some mashed potatoes and moan with delight around the fork. They are the perfect consistency and still piping hot. He must have warmed it up before bringing it to me.
When I lift my eyes, awaiting his response, I find him staring at me over the top of the book. “I’m not babysitting you, Celine.”
“Then what are you doing, Father Alexander?”
He lifts the book. “Reading.”
My eyes squint as I attempt to read the title on the worn-out leather. It is so old that it takes me a second to realize what it is.
“Do you always read the Bible for fun?”
He looks at the front of the book, reading the faded words, and hums. He had no idea which book he’d grabbed, so he didn’t even bother to read the pages thoroughly.
“Don’t you?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No.”
“Have you read the Bible?”
“I’ve pretended to read it. Just like you were a second ago.
” I’m not sure why I call him out on this, but it was worth it because his cheeks heat up.
“When I was little, my parents made me dedicate an hour each morning to reading it. To appease them, I acted like I was so intrigued while reading, when in reality, I was making up stories in my head.”
“Do you do that a lot?” he asks.
“I do,” I admit. “It’s how I found my love for books. The different stories authors could tell by just using their imagination. It was so cool to me. Still is.”
He nods in understanding. “So you like to read, just not this.”
“Correct.”
“What kind of books do you like to read?” The question has me pausing the cutting of my steak.
If he knew the type of books I enjoy reading, he would throw a bucket of holy water on me.
I mull over the idea of lying, telling him I read something in a simpler genre, but I don’t have it in me to spin another lie on top of that if he keeps asking me questions. So, I decided to tell him the truth.
“Romance.” I continue cutting into the steak.
“Romance?” He repeats the word slowly.
“Yes, romance. The cute, fluffy stories and the not-so-cute and fluffy ones.”
The book in his hands closes a bit as he thinks about what I said. “There is a difference in romance books?”
I glance at him, pure curiosity in his eyes.
I smirk as I tell him. “Mhm. There are the ones that make you believe in true love. The ones that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And then there are the ones that make you feel warm for another reason. It provides you with a sensation that needs… taken care of.”
His brows dip for a few seconds, eyes staring down at the table before he lifts them to mine. “They make books like that?”
“They do,” I grin, finally taking a bite of the broccoli that is now cold. “Some of the best books you’ll ever read. Pity I can’t leave here. I’d bring you one from my apartment. I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”
I hold in my laughter as he stares me down. Okay, he isn’t amused by my joke, but that doesn’t matter.
“I’m good. Thank you for the offer.” He shifts in his chair.
“You sure?” I lay the fork down and relax back into my seat. “It’s probably more interesting than what you are reading in there.”
He looks at the book in his hand, his jaw clenching. “Can I read you something?”
Inhaling a deep breath, I say, “By all means.”
Father Alexander opens the book, flipping through the pages until he finds what he is looking for. When he does, he sits forward in the chair, elbows resting on the table.
“Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body. Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”
My teeth grind together as he berates me. He doesn’t look at me as his eyes scan down the page, landing on another passage.
“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.”
A harsh puff of air leaves my nose, and the chair screeches against the floor as I shove it backward to stand.
“Thank you so much for bringing me dinner. I’m going to bed now.”
I round the table, leaving my plate of leftovers on it. When I go to pass him, his hand grasps my wrist, causing me to stop. He stands, towering over me. I’m not sure if he is trying to intimidate me, but it’s not working.
I mean… not really.
“Did you forget something?” he asks, finally letting go of my wrist.
My face scrunches into confusion. “Goodnight?”
The corner of his lip tilts upward. “The Lord’s Prayer, Celine. You are to say it every night with me.”
“Can’t we skip it tonight?” My arms fold over my chest as he stands. “I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m afraid not. I know we agreed to meet in the chapel,” I didn’t agree to anything. “But since we are here, we might as well do the prayer now.”
I sigh. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“Good.” He steps away from his chair and comes closer to me. “Now, kneel.”