“It’s not fair!” Sofia cut in, a tear dripping off her lower lashes and sliding down her cheek. “You don’t have to do any penance at all? I don’t believe it!”
“I don’t know yet,” Darren said. “Father Sebastian said he was going to think about it.” He gently wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I’m really sorry—”
“Everybody’s easier on boys!” Sofia broke in. “You guys get away with everything.”
Though Darren knew Sofia’s words weren’t quite true, he also knew better than to argue, at least right now. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Father Sebastian’s cool.”
Sofia bit her lip as she struggled to stop crying. “I thought so, too,” she sniffled. “But I don’t want to have to go back to that place Sister Mary David took—”
As the words died on Sofia’s lips, Darren could suddenly feel someone right behind him. He dropped Sofia’s hand as he felt a tap on his shoulder and whirled around to find Sister Cecelia standing behind him. The librarian held her finger to her lips and glowered at him. “Quiet,” she said, the single word stinging like the lash of a whip even though she’d barely whispered it. “This is a study period.”
Darren nodded, his gaze going to the floor.
“And you,” the nun pressed, shifting her gaze to Sofia. “You need to be studying, not flirting.”
“But I wasn’t—”
The nun’s nostrils flared. “Three rosaries for talking back,” she pronounced. “And I suggest you go back to your seats.” When neither Darren nor Sofia moved, she spoke one more word: “Now.”
“No,” Sofia said, her voice suddenly rising. Darren put his hand on her arm, but it was too late. “I get three rosaries for talking back? All I was doing—”
The nun turned and fixed her with a steady gaze. “All you were doing was flirting,” she said.
“But it wasn’t just me!”
“Sofia,” Darren whispered, trying to warn her off as he saw the nun’s countenance freeze into a mask of anger.
Too late.
“All I’m saying is that I shouldn’t be the only one who’s punished for something both of us were doing.”
“Insolence earns you two more rosaries,” the nun decreed, her gaze unwavering. “Now are you going back to your seat, or shall we go see Father Sebastian?”
“We’re going back to our seats,” Darren said before Sofia could make things any worse. “And we apologize. We’re really sorry—”
Sister Cecelia silenced him with a glance, turned around, and stalked back between the rows of bookshelves to her station. Darren put a hand on the small of Sofia’s back and guided her to follow the nun back to the study area.
“
Darren’s eyes flashed toward the librarian, certain they were about to get in trouble all over again, but Sister Cecelia was already talking to someone else, and from the look on the girl’s face, Darren was pretty sure she was getting a few Hail Marys, too.
Then he remembered what Sofia had said about Father Sebastian not giving her absolution. What was that about? Was he, too, going to be locked into a chapel and forced to pray on his knees for hours and then go to confession?
And what about Sofia? Why would she have to go to confession again? Wasn’t once enough?
Then, out of nowhere, the words he’d spoken to the detective about Kip Adamson rose unbidden from his memory:
Darren’s stomach suddenly felt hollow.
† † †
Father Sebastian opened the closet in the small vestry and took the white linen surplice — the only garment still inside — from its hanger. He slipped it on over his cassock, and adjusted it so that it fell smoothly to midthigh, and the open sleeves hung exactly as they should.
Satisfied with the surplice, he picked up the purple stole — perfect for the sacrament he was about to perform, kissed it reverently, and slipped it around his neck.
As he moved to close the closet door, he saw a flicker of a reflection in the small mirror hanging on the inside of the door.
His father!
But of course it wasn’t his father — it couldn’t have been. It was only himself, catching his own reflection in half-profile, the silver of his temples becoming more prominent every day, just as had that of his father’s so many years ago.
Father Sebastian turned and looked directly into the mirror, gazing deeply into his own eyes, then abruptly closed the door.
Vanity had no place in his life — not now, not ever.
As the bells in the main chapel began to chime faintly, he quickly placed around his neck the chain holding the silver cross his mother had given him on the day he was ordained, poured wine into the chalice, and picked up the small leather box that held the host.
He stepped through the vestry door into the tiny chapel in which he’d heard Sofia Capelli’s confession less than twenty-four hours earlier.
It was still empty.
He lit two candles, one on either side of the altar, then turned the lights down until only the glow of the candles was left, casting flickering shadows around the chamber. As he laid the chalice and the host on the altar, he heard the chapel door open behind him.
† † †
Even as she pushed open the door in front of her, Sofia Capelli had no clear memory of what lay beyond it. It seemed as if it had taken hours to drag herself here, moving through the maze of corridors as if guided by an unseen hand, never certain where she was, nor whether she was going in the right direction. Yet here she was, standing in the near darkness, the oaken door swinging slowly open to reveal a chapel lit only by two flames. As she stepped inside, it all came back to her.
Father Sebastian stood at the altar, praying. The confessional stood dark and empty at one end of the room, the giant tortured Christ loomed over everything else.
She tried not to look at the twisted face of the crucified Savior, but the gaze of the Christ seemed to command her own, and for a long moment she stood transfixed at the door, her hand clutching her sweater tight around her neck as if its thin material could protect her from the chill that was spreading through her body.
Father Sebastian turned. “Hello, Sofia. Please come in.”
His voice was soft and welcoming, and without even thinking about it, Sofia took a tentative step forward.
“Don’t be afraid, my child. There is nothing to fear here in God’s house.” As his warm voice dispelled some of the cold that had seized her body, he offered her a gentle smile. “Come. Let us complete your penance and absolution. Together we shall banish even the impulse to sin.”
His voice washed over her like a cleansing bath and as he held out his hand to her she approached the altar.
Her fingers touched his.
“We shall pray together, Sofia,” the priest said, his kind brown eyes gentle in the candlelight. “Then I will ask you to prostrate yourself on the floor in front of Christ while I give you absolution. We shall finish with the sacrament of the Eucharist.”
Sofia said nothing, knowing no response was expected.
“Tonight we are dealing with the evil that dwells within you,” Father Sebastian said.
