As the final note of the organ resounded through the half-empty church, for the first time in awhile, Clare Edwards felt safe. Her lashes fluttered as she raised her lids from their blissful position to stare at Father Smith, who, noticing her gaze, gave her a warm smile. Turning toward the scattered, few people in the congregation he let out a self-satisfactory sigh and grinned before addressing his audience.

"Now wasn't that lovely?" he asked, his white teeth glinting in the candlelight. "Can you feel the Lord in this house, ladies and gentlemen?"

There was a distant murmur of "amen", that Clare dimly heard herself mimic, though she was far too lethargic to take notice.

All in all, it had been a tough semester. Her parents' marital troubles had seemed insignificant to the events that followed. Her misassumptions with Eli, being the center prize in his and Fitz's ongoing war, and, of course, Alli, Clare's former best friend being sexually assaulted by a senior named Owen.

Clare shivered, yet it had nothing to do with the frigid temperature of the church, nor the chilled, icy tiles beneath her Patten leather-clad feet. Though her and Alli had had a sort of falling out, Clare still could not deny how much she cared for the girl. The fact that she had suffered through something that had happened to Clare's own sister was almost too much for her to take. Was it normal to have this much heartbreak in only fifteen years? Or was God testing her for a specific reason?

Clare sighed. Even with Alli's departure to a rape-crisis center for a month, Clare still doubted that she'd be this lonely; so lonely, in fact, she was attending a church service on a Friday night. She could imagine Eli and Adam lounging on a couch somewhere, watching movies, and laughing about foul fart jokes. Much to her disgust, she actually felt envious. Maybe it was because she hadn't even talked to the two since their English project before the break; the English project where she'd ruined everything. She thought, she really thought there was something there. Could she really be imagining the sparks she felt when Eli's lips touched hers? Or maybe he was just a good actor. But what about the flirtatious banter they shared? That had to be real…. unless of course he was simply charming, a charismatic natural-flirt who had all the girls swooning after him.

And she had fallen into the trap…

It honestly pained her that she had been so stupid as to believed his crooked smiles and deep, breathtaking chuckles had been reserved purely for her. She was supposed to be smart. She was supposed to be different. She was the voice of reason when Alli's hormone-crazed mind exploded with schemes and tactics for getting boys' interests. So how could she believe that Eli truly wanted her? The first thing he said to her should have been a clue. 'You have pretty eyes.' An outward sign, practically screaming that he was a charmer, a boy who had every female he met wrapped around his finger. Yet she couldn't see that. She had believed that a boy as different and exciting as he, was interested in a dull, plain-as-Oatmeal girl like her.

Though those thoughts paled in comparison to what Eli really was: a friend. He was someone who taught her not to care about what other people thought. He helped her with her writing. He joked with her. He seemed to sincerely enjoy spending time with her. And that was something she needed: to feel wanted. Darcy was the perfect daughter, Jenna was the hottest cheerleader, and Clare couldn't compete with the cool girls on the Power Squad for the position of 'best friend' for Alli. Not only Eli, but Adam too. It seemed as though they were misfits united by the fact that they were all second best or different. She missed the feeling of belonging she sensed when being with Adam and Eli. Clare missed the living hell out of it.

"…Go forth in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost…"

"Amen."

Which is why, Clare thought snidely, being jolted out of her reverie by the collective chanting of the amen. I'm here, alone, just as I have been all week.

She stood up from her pew and quickly smoothed out the red velvet of her dress before maneuvering between the bench and the kneelers, and finally making it to the pathway between pews where she genuflected. She began her route to the heavy wooden doors of the empty church when a voice called her back.

"Clare." The call came softly.

She wheeled to face Father Smith standing mere feet before her. Surprised, she stumbled back, almost loosing her balance.

"S-sorry." She stuttered, as the priest's hands caught her upper arms and held her firmly in place. "Y-you startled me!"

He laughed, throwing back his head and closing his eyes as he chuckled. This close, Clare could see the blonde stubble on his chin as well as the mole that squirmed as his Adam's apple bobbed. Father Smith looked down at her, still grinning, blue eyes twinkling.

"I'm quite sorry," he said amiably. "You know, as a clergyman I don't get that too often." He shook his head. "Scary? Like 'Beware the Bible of Doom'?"

Clare giggled nervously, never having been in this close a proximity as she was now, and carefully noting that his hands were still clasped around her biceps. "I'm sorry. A bit jumpy lately, I guess. Kind of in my own world, you know?"

His grin faded, and his hands slid down Clare's arms, making a slow trail to her wrists where he gently wrapped his fingers. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she shuddered.

He cocked his head one way, a thoughtful look in his eye. "If you ever want to talk, Clare, you can always come to me, you know that, right?"

Clare nodded, her throat feeling dry as she gulped. Her eyes were glued to his, hypnotized.

His piercing gaze seemed to disintensify as he smiled once more.

"Good." He said, softly. He tilted his head down and pressed his lips against her forehead, causing Clare's eyes to inadvertently close. "I'm always here for you, Clare Edwards." He breathed. "Always."

And with that, he withdrew, and after a quick wave, was out of her sight.

And Clare was left there, not sure whether to feel guilty or giddy or happy or scared. But she smiled, deciding that her emotions were running wild, and that she needed to accept this gift that God had given her.

The gift of a guardian angel.