“You remain anonymous to our church and to the world,” Father Simon says, his tone soothing. He’s completely unafraid of my temper. Completely unthreatened. “But you are known to the Lord. He knows what you give.”
This doesn’t settle me. It doesn’t give me the calm I came here to find. It’s not true, but when he says it, I want to believe it. Just like when Haley says I’m a fucking prince. Princes don’t have to confess to being nightmares made flesh. And I am a nightmare in more ways than one. “I confess that I came near to death.”
“Dying is not a sin, child of God.”
“I got shot in the chest. The bullet collapsed one of my lungs and almost killed me. I bled out all over Haley’s lap. I didn’t make an act of perfect contrition. I spoke to her, not God, and the whole thing terrified her. It’s given her nightmares.”
“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”
“I’m the burden, Father Simon. Are you even listening?”
“To your every word. And the words you are not saying.”
I cover my face with both hands. Make the darkness more absolute. Breathe.
“I can’t burden her with me. With the—with the magnitude of my sins. I need penance.” I take my hands down. “I’m sorry for these and all the sins of my past life.”
“To satisfy your penance, you will pray three Hail Marys and one Our Father.”
“That’s bull—”
“And you will open your heart to this woman. To Haley.”
It takes several moments for his words to filter through my rage. My hurt. The grief that Haley stirred up and named when we looked at that photo. She’s seen it now. She’s seen me now. The things we did today, in that room—
“I can’t get much more open.”
“Tell me. Does she know you are here with me now?”
I stare at the outline of him through the grate. “No.”
“You hide yourself, but that is not the way.”
“Hide me under the shadow of your wings,” I say to him.
“From the wicked that oppress you,” Father Thomas answers. “From your deadly enemies. Not from Haley.”
I don’t know where he gets the nerve. I can hardly fucking speak. “Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me. A sinner.” The biggest sinner there ever was. The worst nightmare ever to walk the earth. But I’ll repent forever if it means keeping Haley. Forgive me.
“I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father,” begins Father Simon, and something behind my heart releases. “And of the Son. And of the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen.”
Another pause. I catch my breath.
“The Lord has freed you from your sins. Come out into the church, child of God, and celebrate Mass.”
Chapter Thirteen
Haley
My phone rings early, but it doesn’t come early enough. I’m dreaming of Leo again. Leo bleeding. Leo gasping. The buzzing on the bedside table pulls me out of it before it can drag me down completely.
I’ve slept late. My heart beat hard all day yesterday after we came out of Leo’s study. Before we left, he picked up the photo in its frame and put it in my hands. He waited while I put it back on the shelf. And then I couldn’t stand to be apart from him. It felt like fighting against a tide. Or gravity. We talked about dinner and books and nothing at all. What do you do, after a moment like that? I felt torn open by it. Exposed by it. Like all the soft parts of me had been turned inside out and put on display for him. I can only imagine how he felt.
The sun streams through his bedroom window. Bed’s empty. I push my hair out of my face and grab for the phone, fumbling it at the name on the screen. I get it to my ear just in time.
“Petra?”
“Hey, Hales.” My older sister sounds fresh and awake, unlike me. But concern has made her voice higher. And something else—surprise? “Did I wake you up?”
“It’s fine. Are you okay?” I ask, pushing away sleep. Her husband doesn’t like her to have much contact with us. She visits the house once a month, but we barely talk otherwise.
She sounds uncertain. “Of course. I was just calling to say congratulations.”
I run my hand through my hair again. Without Leo in the bed, without him in the room, I feel unprepared. For phone calls. For everything. I want him here.
“Congratulations—for what?”
“For your upcoming nuptials?”
Petra’s the one who did things right. She was in love with this boy who did underground boxing, but of course the family would never approve. Caroline Constantine would never approve. So she picked someone out for her to marry. They were introduced at a party. It was essentially a modern-day arranged marriage, and Petra went along with it.
She was the steady older sister who took care of things. Who got good grades. Who unburdened our dad as soon as she could so he could focus on his work. She’s a good sister. I miss living with her. And now I hear the hurt underpinning her polite question. I know she was torn between leaving and staying. Between making a life for herself and making one for us. She would be devastated if I got engaged without telling her.
A pang of guilt. I haven’t told her a thing about Leo. There hasn’t been a good moment. “Petra, I’m not getting married. I don’t know who told you that, but—”
“The Tribune,” she says. She means the Bishop’s Landing Tribune. “There’s an announcement in the paper today for your engagement. And your wedding.”
Oh, Jesus. Oh, shit.
“It’s right here in the society section.” A page turns. She’s flipping back to it. I can see her standing at the kitchen island of her house, keeping her neutral expression on while she leans an arm on the table and reads. “The Constantine family is pleased to announce the engagement of Haley Constantine, daughter of Phillip Constantine, to Rick Joseph Jr., son of Darla and Richard Joseph of Bishop’s Landing. Invited guests will gather at the Sweetwater Country Club on the second of February—”
I put a hand to my chest. It does nothing to calm down my terrified heart. “No. Petra. Stop. No. This isn’t real. This is—this must have been Caroline.”
“Caroline?”
“She’s been really out of control lately.” Regret wraps itself up in a ball and sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. I should have told Petra everything to begin with. Then it wouldn’t sound like this. It wouldn’t sound like some random accusation.
“What does that mean—out of control?” More confusion has clouded her voice. “Why would she think you were getting married if you’re not? Are you—” She lowers her voice. It makes me wonder if her husband is there. No, he has an office. Maybe there’s a maid or something. “Are you okay? Like, are you leading Rick on?”
Acid scorches the back of my throat and I swallow it. I’m not going to be sick. Not here. Not because of Rick. He was willing to do anything to me for Caroline, up to and including rape. It’s not Petra’s fault she doesn’t know. “I am not leading him on.”
“Hales, I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t understand how this happened. Have you been clear with Caroline? I know she has strong opinions, but she gave me the choice. When I got engaged, we talked about it beforehand. I agreed to it.”