The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,23

can second guess myself. I hope this isn’t a restricted area, because I need to know what I can do to earn my own room. And a proper school uniform. One that doesn’t come pre-installed with lice.

I push open the door Gabriel disappeared behind and walked right into him.

“Trinity?” He frowns at me, and for just a second there’s something very unfriendly in his eyes.

“Father. I’m—I’m sorry to just—“

His eyes soften from wood to velvety chocolate. “Gracious, I’ve been so caught up, I haven’t had a chance to check in with you.” He grabs my arm and leads me to a nearby table with a set of chairs. “How are you, child?”

I sink down, but he remains standing, forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him.

“It’s been an adjustment,” I admit. I was going to honey coat it—no use complaining when I’m trying to show him how well I can adapt—but he’s always had a way of drawing the truth out of me.

Did he have that same effect on Mom and Dad? Did they tell him things without wanting to?

Bad things?

Sinful things?

I push away the thought. This place is making me jump at shadows. How can anyone stand it?

“I would imagine so. Tell me, how are you finding the classes? Have your teachers been accommodating?”

Teachers.

Of course! That’s my way in.

“That’s actually why I’m here.” I twist my hands in my lap and force out the words before I can lose my nerve. “Is there a chance, I mean, do you think I could try and…?”

“You may speak freely, child,” Gabriel says. He shifts his weight, looking for all the world as if he could stand there all day while I fought my tongue.

“I want to be a teacher.”

He nods, waits.

“I’d like to teach here when I’ve finished high school. Is that…would that be…?”

Gabriel cups my face in a hand. I start at the intimate gesture, but I don’t pull away. The last thing I want is to offend him. His usually vacant smile deepens. It’s not the first time I’ve seen his dimples, but I can’t remember when last he looked so happy.

“You truly are a remarkable girl.”

Pressure wells behind my eyes. I drop my eyes, but he keeps me looking up with that gentle pressure on my jaw. His hands are warm, slightly calloused—which is strange for a man of the cloth. “Is that a yes?”

“I would love nothing more,” he says.

He turns to leave, and then pauses and turns back. “I’ll send someone to collect you tonight.”

I was in the process of standing. My knees lock, leaving me in a weird half-crouch. “Uh…why?”

“We shall have dinner. God bless, Trinity.”

I almost manage to reply.

Almost, but not quite.

Chapter Twelve

Trinity

Morning prayers ran shorter than yesterday. Despite my meeting with Father Gabriel, I get to the dining hall way ahead of everyone else. Since I don’t know when Jasper’s arriving, I decide to lurk in the corner close to the urns and have a cup of coffee. Which means I’m alone with the blond-haired film student when he wheels out a trolley full of breakfast trays.

At first, he doesn’t see me.

The coffee must give me a spark of courage, because by the time he’s done unpacking the food trolley, I march across the hall and come up behind him.

I open my mouth, but he beats me to it.

“Nice dress,” he drawls. “Really brings out your eyes.”

I freeze to the spot. Nice dress? This fabric is so stiff I could prop it up in my closet—no need for a hanger.

“Why do you keep filming me?”

“Filming you?” He turns, watching me for a second from the corner of his eye. I take back what I said before—he is handsome, perhaps because of his sharp nose and blade-like cheekbones. It makes him look like a fox, especially when he narrows his honey-brown eyes. “Now why’d I do that?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

“D’you really think you’re that pretty?” He sets down the tray he was holding and turns to face me. When he steps forward, I step back on automatic. “Or are you just that vain?”

Now I’m regretting walking over here. I thought I’d have the upper hand, but—

Without warning, the guy tucks a stray curl behind my ear. When his fingertips brush my cheek, they leave behind a static charge that’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Stop filming me or I’ll report you.”

The guy narrows his eyes again. “Who you gonna tell?”

My mind scrambles to the scariest person in this place. “Sister Miriam,”