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ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ 𝐴𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑟 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑏𝑦
❦
The golden cross stood out amongst the grey of the stone and brown of the wood. Behind it still, were even more bright colours, the stained glass of the windows projecting its tinted light across the front most pews of the church. She could faintly smell the bouquets of flowers that stood in clusters by the door, brought each Sunday by the old ladies that stood proud by their collection. Her hair was cover only by a thin veil thanks to the abruptness of her visit, but she felt comforted by the material that floated around her, stroking softly against her cheek.
The building around her had become like a second home to her since she had moved to Birmingham all those years ago. It was like a hiding place, the only place she knew her father wouldn't dare to go, in fear that he would burn upon crossing the threshold.
Luca had told her to avoid the church and to stay at home. He had lost what little faith he had long ago. It had set sail with him to America, gotten lost and most likely drowned. But for Maria, it was what kept her afloat and on track.
She couldn't focus. One moment her eyes were held shut, the next they were observing the alter or the book of prayer that rested beside her, scrutinising every last detail like her life depended on it. It took her five long minutes to realise that she hadn't begun her prayer, and it took her another two to realise why. The words that she wished to speak had been lost on her tongue.
She held her hands together tightly, taking a deep breath as she willed herself to begin.
"Lord, help us to learn your ways."
The door to the church were opened loudly as a man stumbled through, his legs jogging to reach the very first pew. He sat within view, his eyes glued shut as he mumbled to himself. Maria couldn't help but look, she was already distracted enough.
His hair was long on the top, and unkept, reaching his ears as it flopped when he dipped. He had a moustache too, though unlike his hair, had been recently clipped. His mumbles were understandable and as clear as the brummy accent that graced the air.
Maria knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. He was Arthur Shelby. The oldest of the brothers. The god-fearing man. The short-fuse.
"...guide me toward the light..." He mumbled, his head held lowly in his hands, clawing at his skin madly. "...protect my family from me..."
Arthur's struggle was clear. He had been tormented by Satan, tempted by the wickedness of sin. None of the brothers could ever understood his pain, his conflict that raged inside of them. They had made a deal with the devil a long time ago, but religion had been tossed out of the window just as quickly. Why believe in something that condemned them for their seemingly inevitable actions?
"...clear me from the devil..." He muttered, his head lifting to gaze at the stream of light that trickled from the stained glass.
His face was sombre and anguished, an expression she had recognised from herself as she had traced the outline of her downcast lips against the dull reflection in the glass pane. It startled her, to feel a pull of understanding to a man like Arthur Shelby. But she was taught to be open and accepting, to believe in the good of others so that they could walk toward the light. That lesson had been lost on her. She had wished for her brother to return to his good ways, but it had been to no use.
Arthur turned to glance to the woman, his nose still sniffling as he wiped along his wet cheeks. He hadn't noticed her as he rushed to his own place, muttering away. A flush had taken over him, out of both frustration and embarrassment as he saw her watchful gaze. But she wasn't judging, as she let her lips pull up into a soft and comforting smile before she turned back to her own prayer.
"Lord, help us learn your ways. The ways of love and forgiveness. We are grateful and humbled by your gift of life." She began, who face relaxing as she concentrated on the meaning behind her words. "Protect us against ourselves and teach us how to be kind in the face of adversity so that we may better serve you and spread your love. For we were born with love to give."
After another moment or so, she had finished her prayers, closing the book on her lap and tucking it under her arms. Her head was down as she slowly walked toward the large doorway of the church, but as she passed the Shelby, she couldn't help but look, her breath jilting at the softness of his gaze.
Maria stopped beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he too had finished his own words.
"Trust in yourself and your faith and you will be guided." She whispered, before heading back down passed the pew he sat on.
It was something that she herself needed to work on. She had strained against her lack of self assurance for so long that she couldn't remember what it felt like. She didn't have faith in herself.
Arthur stopped her with a hand on her wrist, causing her to turn back in surprise, the dark veil that obscured her face shifting slightly so she could gaze down at the finger that wrapped round her skin. He was looking up at her with wide and curious eyes, still red and watery from the tears of his outburst only minutes before.
"What's your name?" He asked quietly, his hand dropping, leaving her wrist feeling cold, as if she had felt a touch of his conflict too.
"Maria." She whispered, before nodding her head in goodbye and heading from the church, back to the watchful eyes of her brother.
