Page 47 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

“Angela?” The male voice came softly from behind her.

She dropped her boot off the pew as if she’d been caught stealing communion wine.

Turning, she faced the priest in the black suit and white collar. “Father Michael?”

He smiled, that same familiar smile with his blue eyes crinkling, and his dark hair threaded with silver. “It’s been a while, my child.”

She was on her feet to wrap her arms around him in an instinctive hug. Father Michael smelled like fresh spring air, clean linen, and old smoky books, like time hadn’t touched him the way it had touched everyone else. “You never change.”

He laughed. “That’s generous. You, however…” His gaze softened. “You look just like your mother.”

That hit harder than she expected, creating a lump in her throat that she struggled to clear.

“So,” Father Michael said gently, as his eyes flicked to her bare fingers. “Married yet?”

“Happily single, thank you.” She sighed in defeat, collapsing back onto the pew. “And why are these seats still medieval torture devices?”

“To keep people awake during sermons,” he said, sitting beside her.

She snorted.

“So, what brings you back to this house?”

She hesitated because she may not have visited this place, but she saw Father Michael regularly for most of her life on the street and in the store. The reason she dared to cross the threshold of this place was she needed some sort of biblical response to the truth that sounded so unhinged, when she’d spent most of her adult life making sure she sounded sane. “I need a new perspective.”

He studied her like he always did, as if he were listening to the sentence underneath the sentence.

“I stopped smoking,” she said for no particular reason other than to fill the empty space.

“Good,” he said. “When did you start? Because I’ve never seen you smoke.”

“Rebellious teenage phase. Mostly when drinking.”

He smirked at her as his eyes sparkled. “I remember picking you up from school after that bottle of red wine you and some others got into, instead of attending gym class.”

“Seriously?” She covered her face, feeling the heat radiate through her fingers. “Why would you bring that up?”

“You were sixteen,” he said fondly. “And furious that the universe hadn’t bent to your will.”

“Still am.” She hated how that sounded.

“No boyfriend?” he asked lightly.

“No. Even though everyone keeps trying to fix that.”

“I imagine your Aunt Claudine would be the chief offender.”

She shrugged.

“Claudine means well.” He shared an amused smile. “How many times has she been married now?”

“Five.”

“I’ve always liked Claudine; she sees the fun in life and doesn’t care what others think.”

“I do. Because I just want to be normal.” And having her outrageous aunt escorted from school by security was one of those moments when she had wanted to hide under the desks and die. It didn’t help that she still lived in the same area, where people never forgot.

“You were never normal,” he said gently. “You’ve always known that.”