XXXVIII

Being nervous seemed really quite silly. Lucien Blake had been leading Sunday Mass for fifteen years. This was just like any other, really. Nothing special about this Sunday at all.

Only Jean had been right, that he did not like having oversight. One of the best things about being a priest for him had always been that he could exist on his own without interference. And every few years, the bishop would come to town to check in on things. Damned nuisance was what it was.

And so Lucien readied himself for Mass, donning his green vestments. Bishop Lascelles would be giving the homily as a nice treat for the parishioners, to hear the words of their bishop. Lucien and Ned and Peter would handle the rest, just as they did every Sunday. Lucien also had a feeling that the bishop would insist on giving communion as well, and Lucien would not fight him for it. Though he did not like interference in his work, he wasn't all that possessive of it. He didn't much care who did what around the church so long as he was left well enough alone. That used to be so that he could brood and drink and pass out in peace, but now there was a much more vital purpose to his desire for privacy; now he was only concerned about being left alone with Jean.

These last few days had been absolute hell. He and Jean had discussed it before the bishop's arrival. She'd not come to make him breakfast—he didn't really need that anymore, since he did not wake up hungover anymore and she woke up beside him half the time anyway—and she would only be present for necessary church assistance functions. Jean had met Bishop Lascelles at catechism on Thursday afternoon, just after the bishop arrived. She'd been friendly and polite as always, and on that day, she and Lucien had done a very good job at maintaining a professional distance. It wasn't too difficult, what with the children around anyway.

Friday and Saturday, Jean came by to tend the garden and do the flower arrangements for the altar. Otherwise, Lucien hadn't seen her. And he missed her terribly. Much of it was due to the desperate way he loved her, but that was not all. More than anything, he thought, he'd just gotten used to having her around. He had been spoiled by getting to watch her work, seeing the way her hips swayed when she walked, having her nearby for him to reach out and touch her and hold her in his arms and kiss her and take her to bed and make love to her. They had so much together, but it still was not enough. Lucien wanted with a need so great he worried it might consume him to be with Jean in every way now and always.

If he had been allowed, he would have married her back at Christmas. But they had discussed it. She would not allow him to leave the Church because he was the parish priest and the people needed him. And though he did not have much devout Catholic feeling within him, he knew Jean was right. He was proud to serve and guide the people of this town. Though Confession annoyed him and bored him to tears, he enjoyed writing his homilies and teaching the children. He enjoyed imparting a different way of thinking about scripture on the captive audience. And, just as when he'd been a doctor, Lucien enjoyed being able to use his knowledge and skill to actually help those in need. Celebrating weddings and baptisms, easing suffering at deathbeds and funerals. These were things he was proud to be able to do. Even if he did wish that he could toss it all aside in favor of living out his days with Jean.

But here he was, preparing in his office with Bishop Lascelles. Peter had knocked on the door to let them know it was time. They walked out as the choir performed their pathetic offering. And off they went.

Most of the service was so engrained in him that Lucien barely paid attention. It was muscle memory that took him through each task and a perfectly memorized script that led the prayers. Knowing that the bishop was evaluating his performance did not cause him to falter, though he did try to put on a bit better of a show than his usual rote behavior. Only the homily ever gave him any sense of feeling, and he'd not be performing that today.

"The homily this morning will be given by our visiting guest, Bishop Lascelles. I know we'll all be quite blessed to hear him preach today," Lucien announced, gesturing to the pulpit for the bishop. Lucien himself sat off to the side next to Ned; the altar boys were always very well behaved, keeping in their seats during the Mass. At least, he assumed they were. He'd never noticed one way or the other. He was always out front leading Mass.

It was strangely nice to have a break from the monotony today. The bishop's words about faith and being a child of God—through the lens of John 1:12—washed over him. Lucien thought it was an interesting subject though he found Bishop Lascelles' analysis rather trite. His mind began to wander.

He looked out into the crowd. Most people knew that the bishop was in town so the pews were fuller than usual. All of the regulars were there, of course, and plenty of those he typically only saw at Easter and Christmas had come for the occasion as well.

But one face jumped out at him in a way that shocked him, for he had not noticed in all the time he'd been standing at the pulpit. There, halfway back on the far end of the pew, was Jean. Oh but she did look lovely. She always looked lovely, but he knew that she put in a bit of extra effort to look nice for Mass. She only attended about half the time, more often than some but not as often as the devout parishioners. It was always wonderful to see her, knowing that a friendly face was out there for him to focus on. But it had been more than four days since he'd had the pleasure of her company in private. He missed her. He was absolutely lovesick, he knew, but it didn't change the fact that he adored her and he missed not being able to have her around, and seeing her there and be so close and yet still so far was torture.

Jean had her head turned in the direction of the bishop, but she turned and their eyes locked. Lucien could only imagine how he looked, gazing longingly at her, yearning to be closer to her. He felt a strange sense of awe come over him when he saw that brilliant turquoise sparkle in her eye and the gentle way her soft, red-tinted lips curled into a smile. When she looked at him like that, he felt the whole world fall away. Oh he wished it would! What he wouldn't have given in that moment for everything to disappear and leave only Jean and himself alone here in this sacred space.

This church was sacred to him, now. More so than ever before. It was presumably a house of God, but it was the place where he and Jean had shared their first kiss. It was the place where they had first come together, where he had had first told her that he loved her, where she had first told him that she loved him. The daily joys and tribulations of their relationship had been reserved for the rectory, but all of the big, important moments, those had happened right here in this church. In the chapel off to the left of where Jean sat now and on the marble altar table just behind where the bishop stood preaching. For Jean and Lucien, this was their sacred place of worship, not of God but of each other.

Jean blinked and turned away from him, looking back to Bishop Lascelles, and the spell was broken. Lucien realized that the homily had ended and it was now his turn to finish off the Mass. He stood and went back to his duties.

When Mass finally ended, he noticed that Jean gave him a knowing smile and a little nod before she swiftly left St. Catherine's. He wished he could follow her out. He wished even more that he could know that she would be in the rectory waiting for him. But alas, no. The last few days of Bishop Lascelles' visit might be the death of him.

Many parishioners wanted to speak to the bishop, and Lucien knew it was his duty to stay and introduce everyone. And so he did what he had to do and hated every bloody minute of it.