The Vows We Break - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,22
formal suit and cap.
The second he sees me, he dips his chin, his eyes darting over the small crowd as he makes his way inside and aims his way toward his mistress.
Standing at the door, I wait on the attendees to leave, giving them my thanks for their presence and wishing them well until the next time I see them.
Six stay behind for confession.
My gaze darts over the pews, spotting those who are waiting, and while Junia is one of those who left, her husband remains.
I sigh inwardly, because I hate my time with him.
And she’s still there.
Sitting relatively close to the confessional too.
But she’s American, and they never speak other languages, do they?
The booth is far away enough for me to have no fears over privacy, but I’m curious as to why she’s here.
What she’s doing in my church.
As far as I can tell, she seems to be doing nothing.
Just sitting.
Her eyes are almost closed, and if I’m not mistaken, I’d actually say she’s napping.
Is that because of her illness?
For a second, I actually wonder if I should go over and help her, but I’m hesitant to do so.
If anything, I’m wary of it. Wary of her.
I don’t want to approach her.
I really, truly don’t.
And I know that’s the exact opposite of being Christian, but getting close to her?
It’s just not something I can do.
So, I turn my head away from her, refuse to look at her, and almost like a child, pretend she isn’t there.
Something about her...
Lord help me, it’s magnetic.
I can feel her as I pass her, even though I do my best to ignore her—and trust me, I’ve become pretty adept at ignoring things, people, as well as situations that make me uncomfortable.
But Andrea Jura?
She’s impossible to erase.
I hide in the confessional—I admit it.
I find comfort within the booth that’s as much of a prison to me as the cage back in Oran, its shadows providing a sense of security as I go about my chore for the afternoon.
It’s here where I find the sinners, and it’s here where I loathe the calling I’ve taken.
I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I must.
If they prey on an innocent, I can no longer sit idly by and wait for them to escalate.
I made a vow to myself when Dirk Benson was discovered—not by his wife, but by a customer—and I’d taken that as a sign. A sign that I’d done right. But when the news had fallen of his passing, I promised myself that I’d let no innocents be harmed in my flock, or any other.
Not if I could change the present.
Not if I could do something about it.
I’d sat back and watched Dirk progress over the months. I’d been instrumental in the murder he committed.
I’d accept no more blood on my soul. Not unless I’m the one shedding it.
A tap sounds at the door, and I tense up, expecting to hear her voice after I mutter, “Enter.”
“Thank you, Father.”
The voice is sweet. Young. Innocent.
Well, his parents would disagree, but I don’t.
My lips curve of their own volition as I greet Carlo and start the confession.
“I didn’t mean to.”
His morose reply has me grinning, and I take a second, close my eyes, and force my voice to behave—even if I find his antics hilarious, his parents definitely don’t. “Let me decide if what you did is a sin.”
“Mama said it is. That’s why I’m here.”
Carlo, not unsurprisingly, doesn’t appreciate being dragged to church every time he misbehaves.
He’s only twelve, and his parents are older. He was a late baby, and they never seem to know what to do with him.
“Tell me. Let me decide,” I coax.
“It was an accident. I mean, I never meant for all the glue to get wasted.”
Glue? “Start at the beginning.”
“My teacher’s a bitch.”
That has me sitting up. “There’s a sin right there, Carlo. Did you just use profanity under God’s roof?”
He hisses, and mutters, “I just made it worse for myself, didn’t I?”
My lips twitch. “You did.”
But I make a mental note to talk to his father on Sunday. Evidently, Carlo, who’s always a cheerful boy even if he’s due confession, is having issues with his teacher.
“She was picking on me. Trying to make me look dumb in front of everyone. So I knocked over the glue on her seat, painted it so she wouldn’t notice and then let her sit on it.”
My brows lift as I try to ascertain what kind of testament that broke which required him being dragged to