True to his word, Jamie leaves me briefly in the morning – after we cooked breakfast together, nearly making him late when he insisted on using me a his bacon-plate. I just clean up the kitchen and get out of the shower when I hear the front door open.
“It’s me, Claire,” Clark’s voice sounds through the closed bedroom door, “Are you decent?”
“One minute,” I tell him, dressing quickly.
“And a decent Saint girl is an oxymoron, you know?”I chuckle as I open the door.
“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” he observes, “I take it your talk with Jamie went well?”
I blush and grab my pair of handcuffs, still lying on my nightstand, and throw them in the drawer beneath my platform bed before he can notice and kick it closed, “Did you really come here to get the details of my night?” I ask.
No,” he walks into the living room, “I came to make sure you follow up on everything you need to do to leave. And to fill you in on what you’ve missed,” he adds, but I think there’s more to it.
“And?” I ask, wrapping my still-damp hair up in a pony tail. I’m amazed I still have bands for it, but I found a bunch of hair stuff in a plastic tub under the sink this morning.
“And we’ll get to that,” Clark’s wings flutter slightly, “When does your passport come in?”
“Thursday after four,” I tell him, beginning to make the bed.
“What else do you have to do?” he asks?
“Set my bills up on auto-pay, have my mail forwarded to Jojo, buy some stuff for my computer, get my nails done, cancel some subscriptions, get my immunizations, contact the condo-association, set up a cleaning service, get the Jeep ready for storage, contact my insurance company, clean out the fridge,” I start ticking off, “Most of that can be done online.”
“Have you given the slightest thought to packing?” Clark asks, his voice slightly muffled as I hear him from the kitchen now, “You can’t bring all of your shoes – or even your clothes – with you.”
That stops me dead. I don’t own a suitcase, much less the shipping container it would take to bring all of my shoes, “Um,” I glance into my closest, “No – not until you brought it up.”
“Well, you’d better think about it,” he appears in my doorway, glass of orange juice in his hand, “The weight capacities on private jets are much lower than those on commercial flights.”
“Don’t suppose I could have them pre-shipped?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
“Choose well,” he smirks, “Come out here when you’re finished.”
I straighten the last crease and put the newly-fluffed pillows back. “How are Father Jonas and Lupe and Jose?” I ask as I flop onto my couch.
“They’re fine,” Clark assures me, “Father Jonas was very pleased to hear what happened with Jamie. Darius, however, is still furious. It seems Jill’s trace found that the chain of command went back to the Goddess, herself. There is absolutely no precedent for this, Claire. You’ve thrown the entire hierarchy on its ear. There are anecdotal accounts of the Goddess being active before – Father Jonas being one. But she has never actively involved herself in the balance of power before. She’s always worked through already-good people until now.”
His words sting. I don’t think that he means them to. I think he’s speaking from a historical perspective – every one of the sightings of the Virgin has been to pure souls. But they hurt nonetheless. He doesn’t notice.
“She’s always masked her presence behind the structure of Heaven until now,” he adds, “None of us know why she’s suddenly decided to make herself official. But I can tell you that it’s making all of us very, very worried.”
“Why?” I ask, “Aren’t you one of her creations? Wouldn’t you want her to be more active?”
Clark frowns and his brows draw down. He’s not mad at me – which is a first – but he is lost in thought. He looks – worried? Confused?
“None of us remember anything before the battle, Claire,” he says softly, “Neither the angels nor the demons. If you asked any of us why we chose which side to fight on, we couldn’t say. Although you would be very unwise to ask such a – personal – question to anyone else,” he adds, “So none of us really know how or why we were created. Or by whom – on that note, you and I are equals,” he raises a brow at me, expecting a snarky comment, but I don’t take the bait, “Although you’ll be hard-pressed to find another immortal willing to admit that to a flesh-born,” he sighs, “We are all guilty of hubris – every one of us. We deal with it in different ways. Almost all of the angels have given up on mankind and withdrawn to let the lesser-beings fend for themselves. Where we once were hundreds of thousands strong, there are only a handful of us now that pay any attention at all to the human world. And most of them from a strictly amusement-factor, not from a direct-involvement factor.”
“Like reality TV?” I ask.
“Yes, very much so,” he nods.
“But not you,” I say slowly.
“There are a few of us who still feel it necessary to watch over Earth,” he nods again, but I can tell he’s not going to tell me why.
“Does God?” I ask instead.
His wings flutter, but his expression remains neutral, “God turned his back on this planet when they killed his son,” he says quietly, “His current obsession is with a planet in the Crab Nebula.”
“Oh,” my jaw snaps shut. I knew to expect this, but it hurt all the same. Trillions of good people, trying to do the right thing, trying to love and forgive and accept and accommodate – over the millennia. But the big guy never saw them. Doesn’t see them now.
“The demons,” he continues, “Took a far-more bureaucratic approach,” he emphasizes, “Consolidating and taking advantage of the power vacuum to build an empire dedicated to the complete domination of the planet and everyone on it.”
“But why?” I ask, “If God doesn’t even care, what’s the point?”
“They don’t know that God doesn’t care,” Clark smiled, “At least, we don’t think that they do. But even beyond that, the Goddess cares. Some of us still care. And most importantly, mankind should care. If they can take over this planet, they can take over others – like the one in the Crab Nebula. We believe this is their beta-test, so to speak.”
“So now Jojo and I are huge threats to their little plan,” I nod.
“And to the power structure of three major religions and to the angels themselves,” Clark continues.
“What could we do to the angels?” I ask, “Why would they have it out for us too?”
“You could make them obsolete,” Clark shrugs.
“Aren’t they already?” I ask and his wings immediately snap out, “Sorry, I don’t mean you or your – uh – friends,” I add quickly, “I mean the ones who don’t care anymore.”
“You would be wise to never say such a thing in any other angel’s presence, Claire Elisabeth,” Clark warns, “Remember, we are all quite prideful, and aside from me, we would strike you down for such a comment – true or not,” he warns, glaring at me, “I warned you that mouth of yours would get you into trouble.”
“Okay,” I drawl, “Sorry. But…”
“But you are correct, nonetheless,” he nods curtly, “Obsolete by their own doing, of course. Although they would never see it that way. And now that the Goddess is thrown into the mix?”
“So what’s this reorganization and working together thing really about then?” I ask.
“I already told you, it’s about keeping the Church and the other side in business. Drumming up new business. They think the two issues are separate,” he adds.
“But you don’t?” I conclude.
“Since you are involved in both? Highly unlikely,” he shakes his head.
“What about Jojo’s mark?” I ask, “What happened to him the other night?”
“Nothing unusual,” he frowns, “Perhaps your sister didn’t think him worthy of forgiveness.”
With those words, everything snaps into focus. I judged someone last night. Another human being. With the fate of their souls. This is way, way deeper than denying them for a loan.
“Oh, God,” I groan, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Well, obviously we know you can,” Clark smirks, “I think you’re saying you don’t know if you want to.”
I can only nod.
“Humans judge each other all the time, Claire,” he folds his wings in, “It’s nothing new.”
“But my judgment matters now,” I exclaim, “This is so wrong. What if I damn some waitress who’s having a crappy day to Hell for giving me bad service? I can’t do this!”
“Do you generally sleep with with bad waitresses, Claire?” he teases and I roll my eyes.
“You know what I mean.”
“Then perhaps your upcoming trip will give you a little perspective,” he stands up, “Get on your laptop and take care of what you can now. James will be back soon, and I doubt you’ll get much done after that.”
“I need to go shopping,” I tell Jamie, tracing circles across his torso and kissing him gently.
He pulls me closer and kisses my nose, “More shoes?” he teases, trailing his own fingers down the sheet covering me.
“No,” I groan at the way my skin tingles for him, “It’s only been five minutes,” I tell my body, but it ignores me, “I need to buy luggage and other stuff for my trip. And I’m hungry.”
“After that?” he grins, “You should be. In fact, food sounds good,” he smiles and my heart is a little puddle of goo, “Get dressed before I change my mind,” and he kisses me again, promising more – later, “But I’m driving. I looked up your record – 338 warning tickets this year alone?” his eyebrows raise, “This isn’t NASCAR, Claire.”
“I never got an actual ticket,” I remind him, climbing out of bed.
“And I can see why,” he chuckles, scanning my body, “But all the same…”
“Alright, Officer,” I sigh, “I warned you that most men find my driving intimidating.”
“I honestly don’t know whether to have your license revoked or recommend you to join the force,” he grins and puts his T-shirt on, “107 in a 65? Tell me again how you’ve never had an accident.”
I grab clean underwear from my dresser and pull them on, “Other drivers are the problem – not me. I always anticipate that they’re going to do something stupid and make sure I’m well past them before they do.”
Jamie rolls his eyes, “I’m driving,” he commands, “If you get pulled over with me in the vehicle, I’ll be in trouble.”
“Want to fight about my paycheck, too?” I snap back, “This is exactly why I don’t have men in my life, Jamie. Because you always try to change me – mold me – into something I’m not. ‘It’s ok if you make more money than I do, but don’t ever bring it up. It’s ok to drive aggressively, but do you have to do it all the time?’ I’m who I am, Jamie, and I’m not going to diminish myself, like Jojo has, just to make someone else happy. Why should I – when I’m not happy? It doesn’t make any difference – they all just leave in the end. So why play the game? Why put myself through that when I know – eventually – they’ll just walk away anyway to find someone more ‘suitable’?”
“Is that what you really think of me?” his eyes narrow and his motions are jerky as he pulls his shorts and jeans back on. He’s mad. I’m mad. I don’t know how we got here when two minutes ago, we were enjoying our pillow talk, but I know – somewhere deep in my brain – this is a ‘push you away before you hurt me’ tactic. Classic defense mechanism.
“I don’t know what to think of you,” I tell him, “I’ve tried to be honest with you – to tell you all the reasons why we’re not going to work out. But you’ve ignored it all and now you’re mad? And that’s my fault? Bite me, Jamie – walk away,” I drop my hands and begin picking up my discarded clothing.
He sits silent for a few minutes. I can feel the anger rolling off of him and I want to open the bedroom door to diffuse it. Yes – I know it’s redundant to close my bedroom door when I live alone, but Jojo has a key and apparently, locks don’t keep Clark out – and who knows who else. But he doesn’t storm out as I expect him to – as I would have. He puts his shoes on slowly and silently and stares out the window for a long time.
“Who hurt you, Claire?” he finally asks, voice barely above a whisper, “Who hurt you so bad that you’re afraid to love anyone again? You’re pushing me away, here. I never said that I wanted to slow down. I just said that if you get pulled over and I’m in the car with you, I will get a formal reprimand at work. I don’t care how much you make. Hell, Claire, just about everyone I meet makes more than I do. I didn’t join the force to get rich, you know. So stop pushing me away and talk to me.”
I’m saved from answering when his phone goes off. He checks the number and makes a slight grimace, “Sorry, I’ve got to get this,” he tells me and moves into the living room, “Hey, Mom,” I hear him say before I open the door to my walk-in closet and give him some privacy.
“He’s right, you know,” I say to myself as I pull down a pair of police-box blue heels with the Doctor Who Tardis logo on the toes, “You are trying to push him away. Damn perceptive cop,” I sigh and grab a lightweight wrap-around dress in the same shade of blue from a hanger. Back in my room, I snap on the bra matching my royal blue boyfriend shorts and shimmy into my dress. He’s still on the phone, so I take a minute to fix my hair and wipe the shine from my face before slipping my shoes on and grabbing my purse.
“No, it’s fine, Mom. I’ll be there soon, ok?” Jamie’s rolling his eyes at me and mouthing, “Sorry.” I nod, “Ok, yes Mom. Just leave it alone and I’ll be there in half an hour or so, ok? See you soon,” he disconnects with a somewhat violent jab of his finger and puts the phone back in his pocket.
“Everything all right?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he sighs, “It’s my fault, really. If I don’t at least call her on my days off, she invents reasons for me to come over. This one is that she swears she can smell a gas-leak from her clothes dryer.”
“Shouldn’t you call the gas company?” I ask, alarmed.
“I would,” he chuckles, “If her dryer – the whole house, mind you – wasn’t entirely electric.”
“Sounds like she just misses you,” I smile, “That’s very sweet.”
“And sometimes annoying as hell,” he says, but the smile on his face tells me he really doesn’t mean it, “I don’t know how long I’ll be, so I don’t feel right asking you to come too. I know you have stuff to do. And honestly, I think she’ll scare you off.”
“Oh,” my face falls. I already know I’m not good enough for this man in front of me. Surely she’ll think so too, “I understand.”
“No,” he laughs and pulls me into a hug, “She will absolutely love you. Smother you. Start planning our wedding immediately. She never liked Laura – but you?” he smiles and kisses my forehead, “Let’s just say that you fit her notion of the ideal woman for me. Smart, beautiful, confident, sassy – a lot like her, actually,” he grins and rubs my cheek, “If you’re having trouble accepting me in your life – however briefly – you’d be on the plane for Rome tonight after meeting her.”
“Jamie, I’m sorry,” I tell him, “I’m not good at trusting people.”
“I can tell,” he smiles again and kisses me gently, “Believe it or not, I’m scared too. I just got divorced – my trust-o-meter isn’t that high either. But we both know you’re leaving soon. Can’t we just enjoy it while we have it?”
“Yes, you’re right,” I tell him and he slides his hand from my cheek to run his index finger over my bottom lip, “So I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Count on it,” he kisses me again. Longer, sweeter, “I want to see as many of those famous shoes as I can before you leave me,” he grins.
Four hours later, I have an entire set of hard-cased luggage in Jimmy Hendrix purple and black asking “Are You Experienced?” and his silhouette across it. A wifi-booster for my laptop. My nails are done and my hair uncut. Everything else set up. The fridge is cleaned out – not that it had much in it, anyway. And I even avoided my favorite little boutiques.
I’m reading my response from my boss, Marcie, to the email I sent yesterday:
“OMG – OMG! Rome? Lucky duck!
“I know you’ll pull through for us – you always have. Have fun and you’d better send us pictures DAILY!”
I smile. Marcie’s a dear. I clear some conditions on some files in the pipeline, deny one, and send the four new ones into processing. About the time I’m ready to shut down, keys sound in my door and I hear Jill and Jojo as they come in.
“Shutting down now – give me a minute,” I yell to them. The bank’s VPN is a bitch to get into and out of, but I’m used to it. Once the connection to the bank is completely severed, my trusty laptop resets itself in a flash.
“Hey,” I walk out and they both stare at me. There’s a huge pizza box on the counter, more rum (as if the two drinks Clark and I had put a dent in what he brought over) and Pina Colada mix in Jojo’s huge pitcher – which, is of course, decorated with cats.
“You look fine,” Jill studies me carefully.
“Better than fine,” Jojo raises a brow, “Freshly-screwed and happy about it,” she remarks and snorts. Jill chimes in, laughing. I can feel the blush spreading.
“Jamie?” they both ask together.
“Yeah,” I nod, “Who’s coming back soon, by the way.”
“Yay!” Jill hops up and down, “Is he seriously that hot?”
“Hotter,” I tell her, reaching for a glass. This is inevitable, but we need to get the “Not for regular people” talk out of the way first. Jamie’s last text was twenty minutes ago:
Forced to stay for dinner. Mom’s being even more prying than usual. She senses something and doesn’t want to let me go until she knows what’s going on. Dad’s no help – just letting me flounder while he bitches about the poor maintenance on the greens. I want to die.
To which I replied:
Sounds like you got your cop instincts from her. ;)
His reply was a stuck-out tongue.
“What happened with your mark, JJ?” I ask.
‘Same-old, same-old,” she sighs, “Why can’t I find the one like you did?”
“He’s not the one,” I snort, “Jill, how did you find out that my forgiveness of Jamie was through the Goddess?”
“I back-traced the code,” she shrugs and pours her own drink, “When I parsed it out, it was a signature I’ve never seen before. So I showed it to Darius and he went ape-shit – ‘God damn it – she’s alive again!’”
“Are you sure you heard that right?” I ask, “Not ‘She’s live again?’”
“Oh, I heard it,” Jill nods and sips, “I’m already damned and it scared the crap out of me. He wasn’t just mad, he looked worried too. He took off with what I gave him and no one has heard from him since.”
“JJ, did you find anything out at work?” I ask, “Anything useful?”
“Not really,” she lowers her eyes, disappointed with herself, “At least, not yet. There’s a part early in Haggadah that refers to the Torah as ‘she,’ and says that she counseled God and a part in Enoch that hints that the angels were around before God created Earth, but then later parts of each contradict the other. I haven’t been able to get much past a couple of chapters of each because Dr. Harmon had me helping a grad student researching the War of the Roses most of the day yesterday and today.”
“Well, keep trying,” I hug her, “I’ll keep reading too, but you’ll be the one to figure it out. Have you heard from Father Jonas?”
“No,” JJ hugs me back, “At least there’s nothing on the VPN. I called Jose today and Father’s been ordered to take a week to get his strength back. Jose says he’s in good spirits and thinks all this fuss over him is a complete waste of time.”
There’s a knock on my door and the girls give each other a knowing look, positioning themselves for optimal viewing. I open the door and dozens of multi-colored roses are pushed close to my face, so close that I can’t help but inhale them. Sighs of, “Aw!” chorus behind me as Jamie grins, “I don’t know your favorite color, so I picked one of each.”
“Thank you,” I smile and take the flowers, “You didn’t have to. They’re lovely.”
“I wanted to,” he leans in and kisses my cheek, “Sorry I had to break our date earlier.”
“How’d you finally get away?” I ask as I open the door for him to come in, “Jamie, this is my sister Jojo and our friend Jill.”
“So you’re the famous Josephina?” Jamie grins and sticks out his hand, “The one who keeps the shelter open all by herself,” he chuckles and winks, “Dr. Talbot, good to see you again.”
“Officer Morton,” Jill smiles, “Small world.”
“You two know each other?” Jojo asks.
“Cops and ER doctors do run into each other often,” Jill chuckles, “Would you like a drink, Officer?”
“Jamie, please,” he nods, “Am I interrupting girl-time?”
“No, it’s fine,” I tell him, “The three of us get together a lot. Jill lives next door.”
“So I get to hang out with three beautiful women tonight?” he grins and accepts his glass, “If this were beer I’d be in Heaven right now.”
I chuckle and pull a Rolling Rock out of the fridge and a bar-key from a drawer, “You want a glass?” I ask.
He cuddles me in thanks and I shoo him off to put the flowers in a vase and pull out paper plates and napkins for the pizza. Jojo and Jill take their cue and start interrogating him in the living room, which he takes with good humor. Just as I’m done passing out the pizza, Clark breezes in.
“Oo – peni-coladas!” he grins and takes mine. I don’t grumble too much, since I have Jamie’s to drink.
Jill finally succeeds in dragging Clark and Jojo back to her place for the night and I lock the door behind them. It’s later than I’d like and most of us are pretty buzzed, but I know Jill won’t let Jojo drive and I’m pretty sure Clark was just acting. His coordination and reflexes didn’t seem to be affected by the amount he drank, unlike the rest of us. Jamie nursed his one beer all night.
“Don’t take this wrong, but I’m glad they’re finally gone,” Jamie helps me clean up the dirty glasses and wipe up a couple of dribbles from the now-empty cat-pitcher. I load the dishwasher and set the delay.
“Me too,” I yawn, “I thought I was going to fall asleep right there on the couch if they stayed much longer.”
“Sleepy?” he wraps his arms around me and starts nuzzling my neck.
“A bit,” I smile and turn around in his arms to face him, “I need to get up earlier than we did today. I haven’t been on a run in two days.”
“You run? Is that how you keep yourself so hot?” he asks, running his hands around my waist.
“Every day, and Pilates four times a week,” I answer.
“Ok, then we get up early tomorrow and go running,” he smiles at me and gets ready to kiss me when his phone rings. His face falls and he digs it out of his pocket.
“Crap,” he sighs and lets go of me, “I need to,”
“It’s ok,” I smile and walk to the bedroom, “Take your time.”
“Morton,” I hear him answer as I step into the bathroom.
When I come out, he’s sitting on the side of the bed, fully-dressed still, “I have to go,” he says reluctantly, “I know I’m on vacation, but there’s a case Brent and I have been working and we just had another victim.”
“I understand,” I sit down next to him and kiss his cheek, “Go on. Call me tomorrow, ok?”
“I will,” he promises and we both stand up so I can walk him out, “It’s a serial killer, Claire. Please promise me that you and the girls will be careful,” he kisses me, “Use your deadbolt and keep your windows locked,” he tells me, “I’ll call you in the morning.”
I lock the door behind him, clicking the deadbolt and setting the alarm, which I usually don’t bother with, as our condos are in a gated and patrolled community and the last crime that’s happened here was when trick-or-treaters accidentally broke Mrs. William’s flower pot on her stoop last Halloween. I step to the window and wave goodbye as his truck backs out of my space and close the curtains after it’s out of sight. Condo secure, I turn out the lights and fall asleep seconds after my head hits the pillow.
Jamie doesn’t call or show up for our run. I’m determined not to let it bother me, but each step seems to jar me more than usual as I push my way though my routine. Two days off have left my muscles tight and I’m nearly a full-minute off from my normal time. But, by the time I finally reach home, I’m glad I forced myself to do it. Again.
I finish my cool down on my lanai and stretch again, noticing that Jojo’s car is now gone and so is Jill’s. A groundsman pulls his truck and trailer around and prepares to cut the lawns between our units and I wave to him before heading inside. We each have a tiny patch of grass in front and on each side, but our back yards are fenced – all in tall white fake-wood plastic panels – but inside those fences we’re allowed to do whatever we want. I’m not much of a gardener, so my back yard is mainly tiered decking – more fake-wood plastic – around a small hot-tub, which I pay the condo association to take care of for me.
I waffle on calling Jamie as I step into the shower. It is still pretty early – not even eight yet – and who knows how long he was out on his case last night. Then again, he did promise to call and maybe something happened?
“Quit being stupid,” I tell myself as I shave my legs, “He’s a big boy and he can take care of himself. He’ll call you when he’s ready.” Steeled in my determination not to call him, I finish my grooming and stare at the suitcases in the corner of the bedroom.
They sure seemed bigger in the showroom yesterday.
My phone rings and I lunge for it eagerly. It’s Father Jonas. And although I’m happy to hear from him, I’m a bit butt-hurt at the same time.
“Good morning, Father,” I answer, “How are you feeling?”
“I keep telling everyone I’m perfectly fine,” he grumbles at me, “If they keep me sitting here on my hands all week, I will die of boredom.”
“It’s for your own good,” I tell him, chuckling, “When was the last time you took a vacation?”
“When I man loves his work, Claire, he doesn’t need a vacation,” he tells me, but his good humor is returning, “Care to have breakfast with a bored priest this morning?”
“The last time we had breakfast together, it didn’t turn out so well for you,” I tease him.
“True,” he chuckles, “But I think we’ve gotten past those necessary unpleasantries. I’ve been craving some of Manny’s huevos since I got out. Care to join me?”
“Are you driving?” I panic, “No, don’t drive. I’ll pick you up.”
“Relax, Claire,” he interrupts me, “The van was stolen and the Church broken into the night I was in the hospital. Nothing was taken inside and no damage was done. Just the keys to the van missing. I was told yesterday that the state police found it burnt-out outside of Sarasota.”
“So do you need a ride?” I ask, relieved.
“Saints be praised, not by you,” he laughs, “No offense, my dear. No, Bishop Danbury has provided a replacement vehicle. Rather a step-up from the poor van, if I must say.”
“Ok,” I agree, “Meet you there in an hour?”
“Oh, no my dear,” he laughs again, “I’m calling you on the road as we speak. I’ll be at your front door in less than ten minutes.”
That has my attention. Father Jonas barely knows how to operate his archaic cell phone, much less navigate hands-free docking. And there is absolutely no way he would be calling me if he weren’t hands-free. He’s a stickler for the rules – especially the rules of the road.
“Okay,” I tell him, “I’ll meet you there, though. It’s just down the block and I can walk there faster than you can drive.”
“Very well, my dear, I’ll see you there,” he tells me and disconnects.
I throw my phone and IPad in my purse and choose a pair of flat, strappy sandals with a wide band of brightly-dyed leather in a tight weave that matches my turquoise tank top and khaki shorts and lock the door behind me. I wave at the gate-guard at the pedestrian entrance and walk to Manny’s. Just as I’m opening the door, my phone rings again.
“Hello? Hold on a minute,” I answer, “Hey Manny – I’m going to grab that table in the back, ok?” I ask and wait for his nod before pulling the phone back to my ear, “Hi,” I practically purr into the phone at Jamie.
“I’m so sorry, Claire,” he rushes, “I was out pretty late last night at the scene and I slept through my alarm.”
“It’s fine, Jamie,” I smile at Rosa and mouth “OJ” at her, “I figured as much. Do you have to go back in?”
“No,” he sounds relieved, “Since I’m on vacation, I don’t have to file any reports. Technically, I shouldn’t have been there, but Brent knows I would have killed him if he hadn’t called me. What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Nothing,” I laugh, “I’m having breakfast with Father Jonas at Manny’s. Why don’t you join us?”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he says and I laugh again.
“Scared?” I tease.
“A little,” he admits, “Do you want me there?”
“I want you anywhere,” I flirt as Rosa sets down my glass and her eyebrows shoot straight up. I blush furiously and turn myself so I’m staring out the window now.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Jamie chuckles at me, “But you’re going to have to behave yourself.”
“No promises – the Father can’t see under the table,” I tell him, “See you soon.”
“You’re going to kill me, you know that, don’t you?” he sighs into the phone, “See you then.”
We hang up and I watch put the window idly. I see a silver Mercedes sedan pull into the only available parking space left and sip my OJ. And choke on it when I see Father Jonas step out, “Upgrade my ass,” I think as I wipe up droplets from the table, “A Honda Civic is an upgrade. That’s a freaking Leer jet in comparison.”
The Father makes his way to our table and Rosa is quick to fill up his coffee cup, “Good to see you up and about, Father,” she says as she pours, “We were all praying for you.”
“Thank you, my dear,” he sits and smiles at her, “How are your classes coming?”
“Good,” she tells him, “I won’t squander the gift the Church has given me.”
“I know you won’t,” he chuckles, “Just make sure that you take time for yourself too. Are you ready, Claire?”
“Can we wait a few minutes?” I ask him, “I asked Jamie to join us. He’ll be here soon.”
“Ah,” Father Jonas closes his menu, “I would very much like to meet this young man of yours,” he nods to Rosa, “We’ll wait.”
Rosa nods back and walks off, but not without throwing me a glance that tells me to behave. I blush again and sip my OJ.
“How are you doing on your travel plans?” he asks me.
“Good,” I reply, “I bought luggage and took care of my passport and I’m working on everything else.”
“And your condo?” he presses, “Will you be able to keep up being overseas?”
I tilt my head and study him. He obviously has something he wants to bring up, but is dancing around it, “Yes,” I reply and tuck my napkin in my lap, “As long as I have an internet connection, I can keep up on work and still get paid. I’ve set up a maid service to come in and clean and set everything up on auto-payments. I should be good.”
“I would like you to think about sub-letting, Claire,” he sips his coffee and looks over the rim at me, “Rebecca needs a place to stay and putting her up at your place – paying everything, of course – would still be more economical than a long-stay hotel.”
“Why can’t she stay with Jojo?” I ask, knowing she has plenty of room.
“Apparently, she’s allergic to cats,” he deadpans and I groan.
“Figures,” I sigh and signal Rosa for another drink, “Hot tea, please Rosa. Lots of honey.”
She nods and walks away, practically bumping into Jamie, who is making his way down the aisle to us. I smile at the sight of him. Black, v-necked t-shirt, jeans that hug but don’t restrict, black cowboy boots with some red and blue stitching that I will have to investigate later. He’s fresh out of the shower, his dark hair slightly damp, but he didn’t take time to shave. The stubble is tiny, but I can’t wait until it scrapes against my skin.
“Jamie,” I stand up and reach for him, “This is Father Jonas. Father, Officer James Morton.”
Father Jonas shakes his hand warmly, “I’ve heard a lot about you, son,” he says, “Sit down, please.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Sir,” Jamie says, “Claire is quite fond of you.”
Rosa glides up and hands Jamie a menu. “Are you ready?” she asks, “Your tea, Claire.”
“I’ll have huevos rancheros, Rosa,” the good Father says, “Two buttered tortillas.”
She turns to me, “Migas and sausage,” I announce, “Soft corn tortillas and Manny’s special sauce on the side.” Rosa nods. “For you, Sir?” she asks.
Jamie scans the menu adorably, “Fried mush and sausage – butter and syrup,” he closes it and passes it to Rosa.
“Lovely,” Father Jonas comments, pouring himself more coffee, “So you’re a police officer, then?”
“Yes Sir,” Jamie grins, “Seven years.”
“And you like it, I take it” the Father chuckles at him.
“I do,” Jamie nods, “A lot of cops think bike-patrol is demeaning, but I love it. I get to talk to people and really get to know them.”
Father Jonas nods, “Service to mankind is never demeaning, son,” he says, “And your family?”
“My parents are both retired,” Jamie takes my hand under the table, telling me he doesn’t mind the third degree, “I have an older sister, Shelly. She’s a teacher and is married to a defensive trainer for the Dolphins. They have two kids – Brian, who’s seven and Meagan, who’s five.”
“Wonderful,” Father Jonas beams and Rosa comes over with our order, “Ah, thank you, my dear,” he smiles at her when she sets his plate of eggs down, “I’ve been craving these for days.” She giggles at him and puts our plates out, “I’ll bring another pot of coffee for you.”
We’re silent a moment as Father Jonas crosses himself and says Grace and then we start spreading and pouring and preparing our breakfasts for consumption. Rosa drops off the full coffee pot and Jamie pours himself a cup, “Father?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you,” Father Jonas holds out his cup for a refill, “And what do you do in your spare time, Jamie?”
“I volunteer at the animal shelter,” Jamie grins and winks at me, “That’s where I first met Claire. But I also like rock-climbing, hiking – that kind of thing.”
“Not much rock-climbing around here,” Father Jonas chuckles and forks his eggs.
“No,” Jamie joins in, “Some buddies from college and I usually take a trip at least once a year.”
“I see,” the Father nods and for a few minutes, the table is silent except for the scrape of silverware against plates. I’m nearly halfway through my migas, although Father Jonas has had Jamie talking so much he barely made a dent in his mush.
“So, Claire,” Father turns his attention back to me, “What do you think?”
“About what?” I ask, spreading more of Manny’s sauce on my tortilla piece. It’s so hot that just a tiny bit is all I can handle, but it’s so good that I wouldn’t dream of migas without it.
“About subletting,” he reminds me and I sigh.
“I don’t want to,” I shake my head, “It would creep me out having someone else there.”
“What’s this?” Jamie asks.
“Father Jonas wants me to sublet my condo to my replacement at Lost Souls,” I tell him.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Jamie pipes up. Father Jonas smirks at me, “Someone to keep an eye on the place and be around in case Jill needs anything.”
I honestly could slap him right now. “Exactly my thinking,” the Father adds.
I’m doomed. I can’t tell Father Jonas that I don’t want some demoness pawing through my things with Jamie here.
“I guess I don’t have much choice,” I grumble and take the last bite of my food.
“Of course you have a choice, Claire,” Father Jonas’ mild tone belies the twinkle in his eyes. He knows he has me over a barrel, “It is your home, after all. But it would save the Church money. What with having to get the diocese a new vehicle and my medical bills, I thought you would agree to help out. But if you don’t want to, I’m sure we’ll get by somehow.”
I roll my eyes at him, “Enough,” I sigh, “Yes, all right, I’ll do it.”
“Bless you, child,” he beams, “I’ll email you the contract. Now then, Jamie, what are your intentions with our Claire, here?” he asks.
“Sir?” Jamie barely manages to not choke on his coffee, “Pardon?”
Father Jonas is still grinning and ignoring the laser beams I’m shooting at him to shut up, “I’ve known Claire since she was in diapers and I’m as close to a parent as she has now. So what are your intentions with her?”
“Well, um,” Jamie looks at me and then back to the priest, “She’s leaving in a few days, so we obviously won’t have a long-term relationship, even though I’d like one,” he smiles, “But I like Claire a lot and I hope she comes back soon. I’d like to keep seeing her.”
“Father Jonas,” I manage through gritted teeth, “I’m a grown woman. I can handle my relationships on my own, thank you.”
“Of course you can, dear,” he chuckles at me, “But a little reminder to Officer Morton of how special you are never hurts. Now, thank you both for a lovely breakfast, but I really do need to be leaving. James, wonderful to meet you. Claire, I’ll be in touch,” he grabs both of our hands in his briefly before placing them together, grinning like an idiot.
“I’ll take care of the check,” I tell him, “Consider it another donation to the Church.” He winks at me and walks out, calling out his goodbyes to Manny and Rosa in Spanish.
Jamie is laughing quietly beside me, “I think you just got played,” he chuckles.
“It’s not funny,” I tell him, but can’t help but laugh myself.