“Do you make it a habit of praying for murderers, Father?” I ask, not sparing Father Doyle a glance, keeping my gaze fixed on the cross on the altar.
“I make it a point to pray for all lost souls, my son.”
“Hmm.”
“But I won’t pretend I’m not surprised to see you come into the house of God to worship of your own free will.”
“Who says I’m here to worship him? Maybe I’m just here to ask him to explain himself.”
“God can give you many things, justifications for his actions aren’t among them, though. Those should remain a mystery.”
“Why?” I snap my head his way. “Why should he hide behind his actions and not offer an explanation for them? Other men worth their salt do.”
“God’s decisions in our lives should never be questioned. He has a plan for all of us, Tiernan. Even for you.”
I scoff at that.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe only in what I can see and touch.”
“Ah, I see. But it doesn’t matter. He believes in you, even if you doubt him.” Father Doyle then goes silent and follows my gaze to the front of the altar.
“You’re conflicted. Burdened by the tribulations forced upon you. That’s why you came here today. To look for answers to questions you do not have the insight yet to ask.”
“I have all the answers I need.”
“Do you?” He arches a skeptical brow. “Remember that God gives no burden he thinks we cannot handle. Take comfort in that. Soon light will shine down the path that has been laid in front of you. Then it won’t seem so arduous as it does now.”
I get up from my seat and look down at the priest.
“You speak as if God gives a damn about me. Your God has forsaken me and my family long before today. Only fools look to an imaginary entity for help. And I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve never been a fool.”
“Women make fools of even the strongest level-headed men.”
I grind my teeth and offer him a sinister grin.
“If that’s true, then your God really can’t help me. Only the devil can.”
Chapter 19
Rosa
Something is wrong.
Tiernan isn’t his usual eat-up-the-air-in-the-whole-room self.
I felt it the moment he walked through the door.
No.
That’s a lie.
I’ve been feeling his sullen and pensive mood get worse with each passing day. If we had a normal husband and wife relationship, I would have badgered him until he told me what ails him so. But since we made sure to create a division between us, using bricks of resentment and hate to stack up our invisible wall, I don’t say a word and pretend I don’t see his misery.
He picks at his dinner in silence as if his thoughts will swallow him whole. I usually take advantage of our dinner dates to pull him into conversation, so I can learn more about the man I’m married to, but tonight I’m hesitant to do that. I fear if I do, he might say something that will hurt me, and Tiernan does enough of that without my help.
Unfortunately, my concern only multiplies when he pushes his barely touched plate to the side, preferring to open another bottle of red wine so he can drown his sorrows. Against my better judgment to let this night end without uttering one word to each other, I’m the one who ends up breaking the heavy silence.
“You always wear black,” I announce evenly, running a finger over the rim of my wine glass. “It’s been two months since we got married, and I have yet to see you wear another color.”
“If there is a question in there somewhere, I don’t hear it,” he replies dryly.
I brush his coldness away and continue on with my rhetoric.
“I’m just curious. Is there any other color in your closet, or are you committed to just the one?”
“Black suits me just fine. Unlike you, I could never pull off virgin white.”
My cheeks flame crimson.
“Are you insinuating that I only wear white? I can guarantee you that I don’t.”
“No. You like to mix it up with eggshell, ivory, and sometimes a light cream. Still looks pretty damn white to me.”
I can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of me.
“What’s so funny?” He cocks a brow.
“Sorry. It just seems out of this world hearing you, of all people, say words like eggshell. I would have never guessed you had such vast knowledge of color palettes.”
When there is the smallest of tugs to his upper lip, my chest warms. I almost got him to smile. Needing to see just how far I can push him, I place my elbows on the edge of the table and lock my hands under my chin, purposely batting my eyelashes at him.