The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,4

not the kind of guy to knock.

So what fresh hell is this then?

“Trinity?”

Another knock.

I jump to my feet and race to throw open the door.

A man in his late thirties regards me from across the threshold. His mouth is set in a gentle curve.

“Good to see you again, Trinity,” he says, his warm chestnut brown eyes wrinkling in the corners as his smile inches up.

“Father Gabriel! It’s—”

A wave crashes down on me, choking the words. His is the first familiar face I’ve seen in weeks.

I’d never known what loneliness was. The longest I’d been apart from my parents had been a few hours. But from that moment the bell rang, and I opened the door, and I saw a police officer standing where I’d been expecting my parents—perhaps Mom juggling a bag of groceries while she hunted for her keys, or Dad looking sheepish because he’d left his pair inside the house—I’d had no one.

No one.

A week later I realized the policeman hadn’t come to tell me my parents had died in a car accident. He’d come to say nothing would ever be the same again. I was destined for a dark, lonely future where flowers didn’t bloom, the sun no longer shone, and food had lost its taste.

For weeks, I’ve been handed from person to person like a goddamn parcel with no return address, the receiver simply marked as ‘To Whom it May Concern’.

Strong arms wrap around me, squeeze me, warm me. Cigarette smoke and candle wax waft up to me in a familiar and oh so comforting smell.

A sob wracks me. I cling to Father Gabriel like I’d fall if I were to let go.

My knees weaken when he strokes my head and murmurs, “Hush, child. You’re safe now.”

Chapter Three

Trinity

Pulling away from Father Gabriel is one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do in weeks, and that includes identifying my parents at the morgue. But I’m behaving like a kid, and he’s the last person I want to disappoint. So I suck up my sorrow, and wriggle out of his arms. My smile isn’t as steady as I want it to be, but at least it’s there.

I know I should tell him about the guy who was just here. What he’d been about to do. But the thought of relaying those sordid details makes my stomach shrivel up with humiliation. What’ll it change, anyway? It might make him even angrier.

“Are you all settled?” Gabriel asks, using a knuckle to swipe a tear from my cheek.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll show you around.” He holds out an arm, his smile inching up when I take it.

He looks odd in his pale, cable-knit sweater and dark slacks. His loafers barely make a sound as he leads me out of the room. I guess he only wears his official clerical garb when he’s visiting a member of his congregation.

I pause, and then lean back to pull the door closed. He pats my arm, his smile growing a little sad around the edges.

“You’re safe now, child. This is the Lord’s house. He will watch over you while you’re under His roof.”

I think back to the stained glass window, the one with that big eye in the sky with the people toiling beneath it. And then the guy who slipped into my room.

If God was watching me, then it seems He was more interested in seeing how far he’d get than putting a stop to it.

But then a bell rang, and he stopped. I’d call that divine intervention, wouldn’t you?

“Thank you,” I murmur, dropping my gaze. My cheeks grow hot again. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t become my guardian.”

“A foster home is no place for a child of God,” he says. “Especially one as bright and talented as you. I’m more than happy to help.”

I manage a smile. Seeing Gabriel has brought back too many memories. They fill my mind as he leads me down the hall, and my mood dips ever lower.

Father Gabriel had been the bishop of our parish for close to five years before he left the country for missionary work a few months ago. My father, the priest of our local congregation, had known him since the start of his seminary training, where Father Gabriel had been one of his tutors.

Gabriel was at our house at least three times a week, and often ate dinner with us. He was my parents’ closest friend, and from what I could gather, their confidant when their marriage