Oh. This surprised Ciaran. “You want to build a church?”
He blinked in surprised horror. “Oh god no.”
Sawyer snorted, making both men look at him. “Sorry. Keep talking.”
“I was thinking,” Beau said, the corner of his mouth pulling down. “You can just tell me if I’m overstepping. I’m still new here, but?—”
“Beau,” Ciaran said. “Just say it.”
“I was thinking we could turn it into a school.” He made a face. “Well, maybe a pre-school to start with. For the little ones. We can get desks and a whiteboard and make it a fun learning space where we can have classes and lessons. Maybe add a play area.” He shrugged. “It was just an idea....”
Sawyer came over and took hold of Beau’s arm. “This is the best idea ever in the history of ideas. Oh, we are so doing this. Let’s go take a look and see what it needs. Starting with a good clean, I’m guessing?—”
Sawyer tried to coax Beau in the direction of the old church, but Beau stopped, looking at Ciaran for approval. “Uh...”
Sawyer waved his hand. “Of course Ciaran agrees. He’s the biggest softie here.”
Beau’s eyes widened at that. “He’s the leader,” he mumbled. “You can’t say that.”
Sawyer snorted, but when Ciaran narrowed his gaze at him, Sawyer sighed. “Fine, yes, he’s the leader, and we love and respect him for that, and I’m sorry your last leader was a dick, but Ciaran’s the bestest, most reasonable, and generous leader ever, and of course he thinks building a school for the babies is the best idea ever.”
Beau made an awkward face. “Sawyer, are you okay?”
“Nope,” he said, almost cheerfully. “I’m woefully human. Can’t help at all because I have stupid lungs and a stupid arm and?—”
Ciaran groaned, quickly collecting Sawyer in a fierce hug. “You’re not helpless.”
“I am,” he mumbled into Ciaran’s chest. “I need to do something. Something constructive. Something to help.”
“Then let’s go take a look at the new school,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into the side of Sawyer’s head. He looked over at Beau and mouthed, “Thank you.” He rubbed Sawyer’s back and led him toward the door. “It’s a great idea.”
The old churchsat at the end of Bay Road like a forgotten thing, an old wooden cross on the rusted tin roof leaning slightly toward the grey sky. Rain and wind from the last century or sohad peeled at the paint, warped a few planks, and the cement steps at the front door were covered in moss and neglect.
Ciaran shoved the heavy door open first. It dragged across the floorboards with a long, aching scrape.
“Well,” Sawyer muttered behind him, “that sounds healthy.”
Dust stirred in the dim light. The church smelled of damp timber, cold earth, and years of neglect. Two long pews sat crooked against one wall, and fractured light spilled through cracked windows onto the wooden floor.
Beau stepped inside last, sniffing the air. “Could be worse.”
Ciaran glanced up at the sagging rafter at the far end of the church. “Could it?”
Sawyer ignored them both, already walking slowly to the front stage. His boots echoed through the hollow building. He stopped near the discarded altar and turned in a slow circle, studying the room with narrowed eyes. “It’s got good bones,” he said.
Ciaran barked a laugh. “A renovator’s delight.”
Beau wandered toward one of the windows and brushed dust from the sill with his fingers. “It could be good, though.”
“It could be perfect,” Sawyer said. “Bookshelves along the side walls, maybe. Big stove in the back for winter. Desks here near the front.”
Outside, rain began to drum the tin roof, and the three of them looked around at the possibilities.
Silence settled with the dust for a moment, but Ciaran found himself watching Sawyer. He needed to feel productive and helpful, and Ciaran understood that. He actually loved that Sawyer wanted to feel a part of their consortium.
He never wanted Sawyer to lose his humanity, but he also wished Sawyer didn’t feel so estranged, so outside the group.
Ciaran ran a hand over the back of a pew, collecting the dust on his fingers. “I think it could be perfect too,” he said, lookingat Sawyer when he said that. “A great project. I wish I’d thought of it.”
