I paused, a little surprised. I had been raised in a Catholic church and attended each week, but it had been out of obligation and tradition. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Orla never spoke of God or worried overmuch about what He thought of them outside Mass. Aunt Maude attended her church every week, as well, but it had been much the same.
“Grace?” I asked.
“I say grace silently before each meal, but I miss sharing it with my family, especially on Christmas morning. Would you mind?”
“Of course not,” I said quickly, though I did feel a bit awkward. Was I expected to know how to say grace? Did he have a memorized prayer in mind? I worried my bottom lip, afraid I would start this day with a mistake even before I left the house.
Alec surprised me, again, by offering me his hand. “May I?”
With a frown, I took his hand and watched as he closed his eyes.
The pressure of his fingers against mine was all I could think about as I, too, closed my eyes.
His prayer was brief—yet heartfelt. It wasn’t a memorized litany of words, but a prayer of thanksgiving and gratitude for our many blessings.
After he said amen, I slowly opened my eyes and found him smiling at me.
“Thank you,” he said as he let my hand go.
I was speechless. I’d never heard anyone pray as he had just done. Could one talk to God as if they were speaking to a friend?
“You look surprised,” he said, a smile in his voice and eyes.
Was this yet another thing I had not been taught? Warmth filled my cheeks, and I tried not to look as ignorant as I felt.
“Do you not speak to God, Keira?”
He only called me Keira when we were alone, which wasn’t as often as it had been at the beginning. Every time he said my name, I felt a strange pang. It was a bittersweet feeling, since it was the name my mother had given me—yet it was connected to a past I wanted to forget.
“I speak to Him in church,” I said, hoping that would appease him. “When I recite the Lord’s Prayer.”
“You believe He exists?”
“Yes.” I knew God was there—I just wasn’t sure if He was aware of me.
“You can speak to Him anywhere you like,” Alec assured me, probably seeing the skepticism on my face. “He is not confined to a church building or to the clergy. He is present, everywhere, and He loves talking to His children. You can share your hopes and dreams, and your fears and frustrations. You can speak to Him as I’m speaking to you.”
I tried not to frown, but I couldn’t help it. His words were astonishing to me.
“Try it,” he said with a chuckle. “I promise it’s true. You can also read the Bible and see for yourself that it’s full of people talking to God.”
The thought of speaking to God or reading the Holy Bible was both exciting and terrifying. For as long as I could remember, I’d been taught that it was the priest’s job to read and interpret the Bible for me. And that he would petition God on my behalf. Was it blasphemy to approach God on my own?
We began to eat our breakfast, but Alec stopped me once again.
“I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box wrapped in brown paper packaging. He set the box on the table and slid it toward me. “Merry Christmas, Keira.”
I blinked in surprise. The only Christmas gifts I had ever received were second-hand gifts such as dresses, shoes, or books through the mission workers in Five Points.
No one had ever purchased a gift with me in mind.
“I didn’t get you anything,” I said.
“I didn’t expect you to.” He nudged the box a little closer to me. “There will be more gifts later, after church, but I wanted to give this to you now.”
It took me a moment, but I finally reached for the box and untied the string. The paper fell away, and I lifted the lid.
Nestled on a bed of silk was a broach in the shape of a flower, with at least a hundred tiny pink diamonds glittering in the morning sunshine. When I looked up at Alec, he had a grin on his face, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out the silk flower he had purchased from me outside the Metropolitan Opera House the night we had met.
