His footsteps were light and almost inaudible. The Penitent smiled and greeted the cheerful nurses and orderlies in the St. Luke’s hospital environ. He was happy and sad at the same time, but he couldn’t tell which emotion was dominant. The silly Priest had moved the girl from the teaching hospital to the Diocese’s hospital, believing it was safer.
What an idiot! He thought to himself. He was right on the grounds of safety, but he hadn’t counted on the closeness of the Penitent to the girl.
As he stalked the hallways of the beautiful hospital, he made sure he kept his eyes down, and refused to make eye contact with anyone that would recognize him again. He wanted to bring flowers, but he knew that would only bring attention to him. His beautiful Laura deserved a bouquet before she would pass on at his hands.
He was restless, because rumours of her recovery were abound in the parish. It was a miracle he couldn’t afford. He stopped walking, when he got to the door of her private ward. He had been expecting buff men in black, standing menacingly at the door, but was disappointed to find a sleeping lanky man, sitting on a chair, with snores that would put a mikano generator to shame.
Stalking quietly to prevent waking the man, the Penitent placed his hand on the doorknob, but was taken aback when he caught a glimpse of the younger Priest through the clear glass door. The man was dragging a seat closer to the older woman watching over the girl.
“Damn you!” He swore, as his eyes smarted with tears of frustration.
He hated crying, but the foolish Priest was getting on his nerves, just like his weak boss did. He was going to show him what he was made of. He just had to be patient, and he would win.
Fr. Joe dragged the chair closer to Grandma, as she was fondly called by his late boss. Grandma was Laura’s grandmother, and she raised Laura since birth, after her mother died from labour complications.
“They say she will open her eyes any day now.” Grandma was saying. “And she will talk to me, and tell me who did this monstrous thing to her.”
Fr. Joe had no response, and he chose to place a palm over the older woman’s clasped hands. She looked at him with teary gratitude. “What is happening in our town Father?”
“I’m sure God knows best.”
“Does he?”
“Yes, he does. Always.”
“Sometimes I feel he enjoys using us as pieces on a chess board.”
Squeezing her fists, he said. “Don’t be like that, Grandma.” He paused. “You know what? I think you need rest. Isn’t there anyone else that can watch over her for you?”
She shook her head. “It’s just me.”
“She has no extended family? No daughters of yours? Her father’s family? Cousins?” He pressed on, trying not to arouse suspicions by his line of questioning.
“None.” She sighed. “Although Laura’s mother had a twin. She was a rowdy child, and she had a baby in her teens. One day, she left and never came back. All I got was a note of apology for all the pains she had put me through. I tried searching for her, it was all futile.”
“I’m sorry that all these things are happening to you.”
“It’s alright.” She withdrew her hands from his. “Please, watch over her, I’ll be right back. I want to eat something at the cafeteria. I won’t be long.”
Fr. Joe waved a hand towards her with an indulgent smile. “Please, take your time. I am not in a hurry.”
She stood up, while the scraping noise of her chair disturbed the quiet room. “Thank you, Father.”
He smiled after her retreating back before relaxing on the chair holding him. “You are welcome.” He whispered to the air
Mheeee! The goat bleated, startling the busy Priest. He swore in colourful words that would make a harlot blush, as the long hose danced out of his slippery grip, wetting his ensemble along the way.
Dodging the sprays, he ran to the controller and turned the knob. The hose stopped spraying water, and he faced the black goat with a furious look.
“If you know what I’m thinking right now, you will run.” He walked towards the goat slowly.
Mheee! The goat looked unconcerned.
“Yes, I see barbecue in your future.”
Looking on with nonchalance, the goat started chewing its cud, infuriating the already angry Priest even more.
“You annoying little…”
“Father!” A voice jolted him again from behind.
He whirred around with swiftness and patted his beating chest when he discovered it was only Adeola.
“Were you just talking to Father’s goat?” Adeola’s lips were curled up in a mischievous smile.
Before the Priest could respond, Adeola continued. “And why are your clothes wet? I thought you were only watering the lawn.”
Fr. Joe sighed, wiping his palm over his face in resignation. “Is there a reason you are here again, Adeola?”
“I told you I would return today to help you with any chores or errands you might have.”
“Look, Adeola, it was my boss that died, not my entire household staff. I am fine.” His hands were on his waist as he stared the younger boy down.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you Father.” Adeola looked down meekly. “What about Laura, any news?”
“None.” Father shook his head.
“I know there is. You went to see her two days ago.”
“I said there is no information.” The Priest maintained.
“Why are you lying to me?” Adeola snapped. “What are you hiding? Is she dead? Is that it?”
Taken aback by the sudden onslaught of fury, Fr. Joe subtly stepped back. “Adeola!” He whispered.
Back in his own body, Adeola looked ashamed of his outburst, and he made to approach the Priest, but the latter moved back, holding a hand out to keep him place.
“I’m sorry Father, I don’t know what came over me.”
“I bet you didn’t.” The Priest murmured.
“Please, forgive me.” Adeola begged. “I am just so worried about her. She’s my very close friend.”
Nodding, Father slowly made his way back to Adeola. “You know what? Come by the house this evening. I will be free to talk to you then.”
Adeola smiled genuinely this time. “Thank you Father. Thank you.”
He waited awkwardly for a heartbeat, but when he realized the Priest had nothing more to say, he thanked him again, and jogged away from Fr. Joe’s presence.
Mheee! Timmy startled the Priest again.
Sighing, Fr. Joe stared at the goat before retreating inside the Rectory.
“I hate you, Timmy.”
