My eyebrows rose.
“What am I supposed to do with this, Padre?” She spun, stomping off up the tiny hill to the doors of the chapel.
I dropped my shovel, hot on her heels and closing the intricately carved doors of Santa Maria’s behind me.
“You’re not exactly innocent in this either.” She leveled me with a fiery glare.
“No need to tell me that. I’ve done my fair share of confessing.”
“Well, add this to your list—accomplice to a church cover-up.” She stood only feet away from where I gave my homily each Mass. The apse gleamed with precious relics behind her, all carried here by explorers from Spain and other far reaches of the holy world. The carefully sculpted chancel arch bounced light around the room from the stained-glass windows, creating an enchanting halo of rainbow light around her.
“Perhaps we can do this in a less…public place.”
“Now you have discretion? Last I knew you, it was the very last thing on your list of concerns.”
“Tressa,” I sighed, shoving a hand in my hair before stalking up the aisle after her. “What’s with the display?”
“No display, Bastien.” She shrugged out of my grip at her elbow. “But maybe you’re the one who should report this old guy for,oh,I dunno, spreading his semen among unsuspecting women?”
“Unsuspecting women?” I nearly laughed, hoping all of this was sarcasm. “I hardly think these women were naïve.”
“But you don’t know. What about Casey’s mom? Whatever happened there was seriously fucking traumatic. Pain like that can’t be brushed under the rug, and that’s why he targeted St. Mike’s all those years later, triggered by an unresolved past and willing to take all of us down with him.”
Her eyes tore up and down the nave, shaking her head when her gaze landed on the Stations of the Cross. “Forgive me, Father, but haven’t we all sinned? Where does the church get off covering up for these people who take advantage of other humans? Wouldn’t it be better to be open and honest, seek proper justice and treatment, and show what true redemption and honesty look like?”
There was that passion for justice I knew simmered just below the surface and motivated her in all things she did.
“Casey nearly killed Luce and her baby that day, two people’s lives would have been snuffed out, a string of tragedies set into motion due to how many bad decisions by Father Martin. He upended our lives decades later like phantom shrapnel. I don’t care if he’s my father. That’s not something I can hide when other innocent people are involved.”
I pressed both my palms over my face, all of her statements as true and valid as if God Himself had spoken them.
“You’re right,” I whispered, our eyes equally raw with emotion. “I’ll report him.”
Tressa nodded once, reservation still staining her features.
“But I don’t know if it will make a difference,” I added solemnly.
TWENTY-NINE
Bastien
I did for Tressa what I promised I would.
I submitted the report that very night and even went to the extra lengths of carbon-copying the cardinal and bishop from St. Michael’s and those from my local diocese now. A paper trail might incite them to action.
Once I hit send on the emails, that was it.
Just like that, the tension seemed to work itself out of our lives.
Until the following Monday.
Tressa had already decided she wouldn’t be doing my rounds with me this week, and I’d thought it was better that way anyway. While those in my flock were all respectful and hadn’t even asked a thing about her last week, I also didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to her and me.
I wasn’t even sure what our future held, exactly.
I knew only two things.
I loved being with her.
