The Blessed - By Tonya Hurley Page 0,44

left,” he said. “Makes things easier, in a way.”

“And harder too?” Agnes observed, reaching gently for his arm.

Sebastian lowered his eyes.

“I’m sure your mom loves you,” he offered. “You don’t want to take that for granted.”

“I try not to, but everything she does is so planned out. She wants me to be like that, like her, but I can’t be.”

“You have to be true to yourself,” Sebastian said, getting right to the heart of the matter. “Always.”

“Yes!” Agnes said, almost with relief. “I’m so glad you understand. People make me feel like such an idiot sometimes. I’m almost starting to believe it, to tell you the truth.”

“Don’t,” he said.

“If I didn’t get out of there, I felt like I would have just lost myself completely.”

Agnes was getting teary, feeling the effects of sickness and sadness weighing on her.

“You’re here now,” he said, taking hold of her.

“She thinks I’m weak because I believe in true love. Like the world will chew me up and spit me out or something.”

“I don’t think there is anything more powerful. If you can change hearts, you can change minds.”

He was supportive. Open. Not much older, but so much wiser than the other guys she knew at school. Her friends weren’t much better. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel so alone.

“It’s like she wants to change me, change who I am.”

“You’re not the only one who’s felt this way. I’ve been there too,” Sebastian said, holding her hands tenderly in his. “You can’t let that happen.”

“I know. It would be worse than . . . ”

“Death?”

“Yes,” she gasped in amazement that he’d completed her thought. “Death.”

Everything about him was comforting to her. Her anxiety and tension melted away. Her infection, unfortunately, remained.

He could see on her face that the conversation was taking a lot out of her and she didn’t look like she had much more to give.

“Let’s take care of you, okay?”

Sebastian turned the candle on the wall behind them and grabbed a stole from a hook, which he walked over to the bathroom sink and saturated with cold water. He wrung out the cloth and brought it to her, placing it over her gash and pressing down, first on one arm and then the other.

The cold and wet garment on her skin was more a relief than she would have imagined. She could almost feel the sliced and swollen tissue retract. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Sebastian reached for the open vessel of fragrant oil and poured some into his cupped hand, dipped his first two fingers in it and spread it across his fingertips.

He grabbed her wrist.

Held it firmly.

She tensed up.

“Relax,” he said. “Trust me.”

“I’m afraid,” she said.

“Close your eyes.”

Agnes closed her eyes slowly and took a deep breath.

She surrendered completely to him. She was at his mercy.

Sebastian wiped the oil from his fingers onto her wound.

He was inside of her.

Agnes quietly moaned.

He caressed her milky soft skin and held her hand while he worked on her. She was so delicate and . . . touchable.

“No,” she blurted out, pulling away slightly.

“It’s okay,” he said, trying to calm her. Stroking her hair. “This oil has antibacterial properties.” He applied the makeshift salve liberally over the wound and then massaged the inside of her forearms with the oil.

“This feels good.”

“It does.” Sebastian grabbed two clean white linen stoles and slowly, carefully rewrapped her wrists.

Agnes opened her eyes and watched him. His tender technique. He was focused, as if he had something very precious and fragile in his hands.

“Where was it that you got your degree again?” she asked, a little touch of sarcasm escaping her lips along with the smile.

“A joke?” he said with disbelief. “You must be feeling better or something.”

“Or something.”

Agnes smiled and her gaze turned to the small door at the back of the room. “Is that another way out?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t you know?”

“I do.”

“But you won’t tell me.”

“No.”

“Lucy and Cecilia think you’re keeping something from us.”

“They’re right.”

Agnes was surprised.

“So, you lied to us?”

“No,” he said. “I haven’t lied. I’ve told you what I can.”

Agnes eyed the door and then Sebastian once again. She could tell it meant something to him. Even in her weakened condition, her curiosity and stubbornness were getting the best of her. “What’s down there?”

“A chapel.”

She pressed him. “Is the answer down there?”

“See for yourself.”

“Okay, I will.”

Agnes walked over and reached gingerly for the doorknob and stopped. Her grip was weak and the door looked intimidating; she was worried