Page 35 of For I Have Sinned

“This is perfect, Father Alexander.” He hands my notes back. “I’d better watch out! Seems like you could steal my job.”

“I would never.”

“Maybe one day when I retire.” He shrugs. “Is that something you would be interested in? Leading the convent on your own?”

Is it?

“I guess I haven’t thought that far into the future.”

“I think you’d do a great job. You have your faith and your voice to spread the word of God. There would just be a few things I would need to teach you before you could take over completely. But that wouldn’t be for a while, so there is no need to worry.”

“I will give it some thought.”

“Very well.” He relaxes back into his chair. “How is Celine?”

“What?” I can feel my cheeks growing red at the mention of her name.

“How is she settling in?” He clarifies.

“She’s doing fine.” I clear my throat. “I’ve set her up in the library to help Sister Greta.”

“Oh, bless her soul. Sister Greta is a tough one to deal with.” It’s amusing that even he knows how Sister Greta is. She doesn’t show kindness to anyone. Not even him. “Maybe Celine spending time with her will help get her on the straight and narrow.”

“That’s why I suggested it. I think her being around Sister Greta will be helpful.”

“Only time will tell.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and gestures towards the papers I let him review. “Your words will resonate with a lot of the women. They are lucky to have you here.”

Warmth floods me at the compliment. I don’t know how much he truly means it, but it is nice to see my hard work paying off.

“Thank you, Father.” I flash him a kind smile.

“I am here if you need anything,” he says, standing from his chair. “However, right now, I need to meet with Sister Alice.”

“Of course,” I say, grabbing my papers and walking out the door with him.

We head down the hall in casual conversation, and when we approach the chapel, he takes a right turn to find Sister Alice.

I stay in my spot, diverting my eyes from him to the inside of the chapel. A few women are sitting in the front pews, while one woman sits in the last pew closest to the door. Today isn’t the scheduled day for prayer, but it isn’t uncommon to find women in here on other days.

I put one foot into the chapel, my eyes graze over the others who are sitting closer to the stage and altar. Some women sit with their heads bowed, while others rest their wrists on the pew in front of them, their foreheads resting on their hands.

Celine, however, sits slouched with her head tilted toward the ceiling.

When I round the pew and glance at the side of her face, I see that her eyes are fixed on stone arches. I know she senses my presence even though she doesn’t acknowledge me. And from where I stand, I can see the color of her cheek begins to turn pink.

Slowly, I make my way down the bench and take a distant seat next to her.

“What brings you into the chapel today?”

In her lap, her hands are clasped together, but she separates them to pick at her thumbnail from nerves.

“Admiring the beauty,” she tells me.

I hum in response because I get it. Besides the garden, the chapel is the most beautiful place in this convent.

“They did a very nice job building it,” I say, letting my eyes roam from the windows to the ceiling where she was staring before I stole her attention.

“That they did,” she agrees and then grows silent.