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She opened the door, and the Deacon stepped inside with the large platter holding the thick steaks. The air had been crisp out there, but he hadn’t worn a coat. Valerie walked to the Deacon, inhaling his scent as he passed, and shutting the door to the cold behind him. “Do you need any help with that?” she asked, making her tone even and warm. She marveled at the way he moved. His cane was hanging over his forearm, and the plate was neatly balanced.
“No, I got it,” he said, setting the steaks down with a loud clink. He turned around, inhaling the savory odors in the room.
They stood there for a moment in the quiet, before Valerie snapped and asked, “Would you like me to get the plates down? Set the table?” She felt suffocated and exposed after their conversation in the yard. There was a clock on the kitchen wall just above the fridge. The minutes ticked loudly, as if they were in her skull. She began to ask another question, but the Deacon stopped her, stepping close. “I wasn’t always a believer, Valerie. I want you to know that.”
She nodded, eyes wide.
He continued, “And I want you to know, any decision I make about whether I want to be a Priest or remain a Deacon, will have everything to do with you, and what you want.”
Valerie’s voice was small. “You-You didn’t know this was what you wanted for your life, always?”
“No. My love for the Lord wasn’t always inside this heart.” He made a fist, tapped it to his chest. “I won’t lie. I would be delighted if you came to Mass some Sunday. And I would understand if whatever fear you have because of your past kept you out of that church. I would care for you either way. But we won’t have a future if God will never be an integral part of your life. I didn’t want to have a serious conversation like this on the first date. I just wanted to get to know you. I asked you here for dinner because I like you. Because I sense good in you. I can read people easily, it’s always been a gift of mine.”
“So … this is a date?” Valerie laughed, wiping at her eyes.
“Yes.” The Deacon crossed his arms, chuckling. “Honestly, Valerie, I just wanted to have a nice evening with a pretty girl. I didn’t want to discuss ultimatums before we even sat down to dinner. We don’t even know each other that well.”
“No, we don’t. And yet, you said …”I want more …
“Valerie, let’s start over. Let’s approach this as friends. Maybe that won’t be so scary.”
Her heart deflated at his words, but a strange sense of calm came over her. It was familiar—men wanting, then retreating.
Like Gregory.
Like the man with the scar—Adrian.
Her heart deflated and rebuilt itself from the rubble. Every part of her that wanted also warned. She almost reached back, almost grazed her fingers over her deformity.If we are friends, he will never know I am wrong. “Okay. Friends. Let’s eat dinner as friends.” She walked to the stove, opening the lid to the potatoes. She stirred as the Deacon walked to her, his voice at her back.
“Deal. Friends. Friends until we cannot,” he whispered.
And then he left the room to set the table in the dining room.
He did not see her face when she turned around, a confession on her lips. But he would hear it in the dark of his church.
TWENTY-TWO
There were few cars parked along the road at the top of the hill that night. Valerie walked up the driveway after parking in the road. She didn’t want to appear as though she thought she was special because she’d dined with the Deacon in private.
Once at the house, she walked up to the door before she could stop herself. She opened his front door and maneuvered herself through the house like she belonged there, until she reached the side door that led into the church. She hesitated for only a moment before entering.
She didn’t go inside the church after their dinner and had turned the moment over in her head as she tried to sleep every night since she’d last been there. She knew she could not linger. Could not allow herself to question if she would go in. So when she saw the door, she reached for the handle, reminding herself who would be on the other side.
The townsfolk had come in a side entrance that led straight to the church. She felt like an insider for a moment, coming in through the house. Like she was special. But she quickly chided herself and walked in, avoiding eyes and smiles.
The confessional was in the corner, the door closed. No sound came from inside, secrets kept and held by the Deacon’s kind and steady ear. Valerie sat in the back, her hands clasped in her lap, counting seconds and minutes as they passed. The only sound was a cough from someone nearby or the opening and closing of the confessional door. As each person came in and out, Valerie felt excited and nervous. She didn’t know what she would confess or say to the Deacon when she was inside the small space, so close to him that no one could hear her. Maybe she would tell him about her sister and Gregory. Run him off for good, get what she deserved.
She shook her head, a silentnoin her mind like a ghost. No, she wouldn’t do that. But maybe the last night in California? She’d killed and hurt those who hurt, but she’d taken Nicholas. Saved him from the fate of the others. That counted for something. Right? She closed her eyes as the last man left the confessional.
She smiled meekly at the man as he left the church and stood, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants. She walked slowly to the door, placing her pale hand on the ornate knob and opening it. When she was safely inside, she let out a breath and looked over, through the partition, to the Deacon. His glasses were off, and she felt an odd thrill. She wanted to see his eyes, but they were closed; his head leaned back, chin up, firm jaw in full view.
“Valerie, Valerie,” he said, and she hoped it was off script, something just for her.
She smiled, head down. “Deacon, how are you this evening?”
“So very well, now,” he said, turning his face to hers slightly.
The silence enveloped her as she waited for more. But nothing else was said, leaving Valerie shrouded in her fear, in anguish. Unable to sit in it any longer, she began. “Bless me Deacon, for I have sinned. It has been …” she faltered. “This is my first confession. These are my sins.” She crossed her legs and closed her eyes. “I have taken a life.”
