Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“Shit,” Maggie swore the second Father Anatoly poked his head into the stairwell to check on her.
She wanted to send him away, but she also didn’t.
She could tell by the concern etched across his features that he was being genuine.
He was a priest after all; of course he wanted to comfort and care for her.
“I am sorry for intruding, Detective.”
“It’s fine.” She swiped at her face, turning her head away from him as he moved to join her on the stairs. He gave her plenty of space on the step they shared. She couldn’t express how much she appreciated that he wasn’t overbearing.
Anatoly laced his fingers together in his lap, his gaze focused on the landing below them. They sat in silence, Maggie fighting to stop crying now that the waterworks had started and Anatoly respectfully giving her the space she needed.
After a few minutes, she found that her tumultuous thoughts and emotions began to abate. She wasn’t sure if it was the priest’s quiet presence or if her attempts were bearing fruit, but each second that passed, she felt her control returning.
“I’m sorry, Father. You didn’t sign up for my fucked up family freak show,” she finally whispered.
“I am priest, not delicate flower,” he replied, his voice warm and friendly. “I can handle family freak show or two.”
Maggie couldn’t help but snort a chuckle, her eyes finally shifting to him.
He must have felt her gaze, for he turned his head and offered a tentative smile.
It took her by surprise, making her feel vulnerable and safe all at once.
What was it about this guy? How did he keep managing to twist her up and straighten her out at the same time?
“As I was saying earlier,” he spoke and Maggie found it easy to listen.
“I grew up in small village outside of Minsk, had good childhood until my father passed in accident. Then it was just my mother, my three younger siblings, and I. Grandparents tried to help, but they lived far away and so it fell to me to provide for family.”
His voice remained calm and soothing despite the dark subject matter and his eyes never left Maggie’s face. She didn’t shy away from him. Instead, she leaned in closer, hanging on every word as he shared his past with her.
“It is great burden to place upon young mind, and though I felt shame, I became mixed up in criminal element. I believed I had no other choice.” He finally shifted, adjusting on the step as a sorrowful frown knit his brow.
“I took simple job from local crime boss but it was not so simple. It was priest who saved me, brought me to Christ that night, though the other boys who went with me were not so lucky…”
Maggie swallowed, enraptured by the tale. “What happened to your family?” she asked, fearing the worst. She had heard similar stories, but many of them didn’t have happy endings.
At this, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.
Instantly, she felt the tension melt away, if only a fraction.
“Church took care of family, helped mother find honest work and accepted me into seminary, then as acolyte. As you can see, I have had good, long life as priest even though I made mistake as young man. That is point I am trying to make; it is okay to make mistakes, Detective.”
Tears filled Maggie’s eyes at this. She hadn’t expected the impromptu story to circle back around to her own situation and now that it had, she wasn’t sure what to tell the man.
Had it been anyone else, she’d have told them to fuck off, but Anatoly wasn’t being condescending.
He had shared something vulnerable about himself with her and in doing so, tried to offer wisdom and counsel.
It cut to the core of her heart, to the weakness dwelling beneath her tough exterior.
She felt her hands shaking and clenched them into fists on her lap in an effort to stop them.
“I don’t need absolution from you, Father,” she choked out, trying and failing to keep her fortress in place, but it was too late; he had snuck past her defenses.
“That is okay,” he replied, his tone sounding more amused than offended. “I am speaking less as priest and more as friend. At least, I would very much like for us to be friends, Detective.”
She couldn’t help but scoff, not out of disrespect to his proposal, but because she was so accustomed to people distancing themselves from her.
Even her own mother had cut ties four years ago.
“You don’t understand,” she insisted, wiping at her nose.
“I slept with my commanding officer, not just once, but in secret for almost two years.”
Anatoly seemed to be considering her words, mulling them over before he answered. “You have broken it off, da?”
“He did, when people found out,” she replied, feeling the sting of that betrayal as though it had just happened. “They said it was me or the job and he chose the job.”
“If that was his choice, then I think you are better off without him, nyet?” Anatoly didn’t hesitate in his reply and the adamant manner in which he said it, took her by surprise.
Maggie stared down at her own hands, the old emotions weighing on her chest to the point that breathing was difficult.
She didn’t like being so sensitive, even just in the presence of one person.
Better to suck it up until she was alone in her shitty apartment with only her stupid cat to see her fall apart.
Before she could think of what to say in response, Anatoly’s strong hand covered both of hers, his fingers squeezing gently. His supportive touch drew her glassy eyes back to his face.
His gaze was gentle, but intense as he whispered, “whether you seek absolution or not, God has already forgiven you, Maggie. All that remains is for you to forgive yourself.”
The tears she’d been fighting against finally fell, splashing down her cheeks. Even though it made her head hurt again, she shook it stubbornly. “I’m not ready…” she croaked and meant it. “Can I ask you something personal, Father?”
“Anatoly, please,” he corrected softly. “And da, what is on your mind?”
Maggie hesitated for just a moment, but curiosity burned in her. She had to know if he could possibly understand what she was feeling. “Have you ever been in love, Anatoly?”
He blushed and cleared his throat, once again adjusting on the step. “I have not,” he finally admitted.
“I don’t think I have either,” she confessed, regret rising up to choke her. “I thought I loved Declan once, but then I realized it was all a crock of shit.”
Anatoly stared back at her, compassion and uncertainty both written on his face. It was clear he was struggling to reply and she saved him from doing so by abruptly standing. She instantly missed the weight of his hand on hers, but she would never admit that to anyone.
“I should get back in case they have news on when I can get out of this hell hole,” she told him as she moved down the stairs to the door. “You’re welcome to wait with me or leave if you need to. And, Anatoly, thank you.”