"Lorelle, please. Stop that ceaseless pacing."

"I'm going to go speak with Father Cullen again," I decided, continuing to wear a trench into the wooden floors as if I hadn't heard him. "Perhaps he's heard news-"

"Lorelle!" Father snapped. "Stop bothering that poor old man. He's practically on his deathbed, and now his son goes missing? He doesn't need some girl bothering him night and day to remind him of his loss."

His words stung, but I didn't let him see that, instead drawing myself up and glaring at my father defiantly. "Well, what else am I supposed to do? Sit here quietly while Carlisle is curled up somewhere, slowly dying? Or worse, already... already..." Bravado fading, my throat closed up, preventing me from speaking, and hot tears slid down my cheeks, splashing onto my bodice and darkening the baby blue silk. Concern overtook the irritation on my father's face, and he rushed forward, embracing me and stroking my hair.

"Hush, my dear. He's in the Lord's hands now. There's nothing to be done. I am certain Father Cullen will send word if he hears anything substantial, he certainly knows how infatuated the two of you are. But for now, you must move on with your life."

"No, I... he..."

"Lorelle, perhaps it is for the best. A sign, confirming what I've been trying to tell you. Imagine if the two of you had married, if you were made a widow so young-and if you'd had children!" Papa looked horrified at the thought, as if he hadn't gone through something much similar himself and came out perfectly fine.

"Or perhaps if you had allowed us to marry, he wouldn't have gone out that night," I replied. "But instead, you refuse to see everything he has done for me and how he makes me feel, and remain stuck in the past. Why do you hate him so much, Papa? Because of a foolish mistake he made as a child?"

My father shook his head, clearly unwilling to have this conversation right now. "My dear..."

"No," I snapped. "He has long since owned up to his mistakes and made amends, but you still sit here dwelling on sins long since forgiven. Are you really so quick to forget the words you preach? What is it that Luke says? 'Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and-'"

"There is nothing more to forgive, Lorelle, but that doesn't mean I will forget," Father said, glowering. "Do not use His words against me if you refuse to follow them yourself. Breaking that window was more than a mistake. It cost our congregation hundreds of pounds, time and money that I-that we will never get back."

I remembered the day as if it were yesterday. The stained glass window my father spoke of had been his pride and joy, meticulously selected and designed by him and my mother when Papa had just taken his position within the church. Father might speak of the money wasted, but I knew that the reality was that it was symbolic, both of my parents' relationship with each other and with our Heavenly Father, and when Carlisle and his friends had shattered it with a carelessly thrown ball, I had witnessed my father's fury in a way I never had before.

"I know how much it meant to you," I murmured. "How much she meant to you. I miss her, too. But if anything... you should understand. You should understand more than most that I won't give up on him, Papa. Please. Let me go talk to Father Cullen. Even if he hasn't heard any news, he could use the company. There is no one to care for him anymore."

My father let out a long, heavy sigh, finally nodding. "Very well. I know you wouldn't listen if I were to say no regardless. Please, be careful."

"I will."

"Lorelle!" Father Cullen always looked so thrilled to see me, brightening up considerably whenever I entered the room. It made my heart soar every time without fail, and I couldn't help smiling despite my melancholy. "So lovely to see you. Carlisle didn't tell me you would be visiting. Is he with you?"

My heart dropped as quickly as it had lifted. I had known his memory was fading, but I hadn't considered that he might forget that his own son had gone missing. I debated breaking the news, before deciding it wasn't worth it; let the poor man think Carlisle was alive and well. It wasn't fair to place that burden on him again.

"Just me for now, Father," I replied, forcing some semblance of cheer into my words. "Carlisle is... out. So I thought I might offer you some company."

"Ah, you always were a sweet girl. Come here, sit, sit. Is that tea you have?"

I nodded, sweeping forward and sitting on the chair at his bedside. I balanced the tea tray on the small table nearby, pouring for both of us. Father Cullen's hands shook as he took the small cup, but his strength held out enough for this, at least. He took a small sip, nodding appreciatively.

"Always better when made with love. Tell me, dear. Has Carlisle been treating you properly?"

"Of course," I replied instantly. "He is always a gentleman. You raised him well."

"Yes, yes, he certainly is a gentleman. But does he treat you well? Does he make you feel truly loved?"

A soft smile graced my lips, warmth filling me as I thought back on the many adventures Carlisle and I had had together, of the gifts he had given me and the quiet words of love we had exchanged. "I've never met a man more inclined to romance, if that is what you mean."

"Good. I did always wonder, growing up without a mother... if he might miss out on the more feminine touch. But you lost your mother young as well. Perhaps that is one of the reasons you both fit together so perfectly."

"Perhaps," I agreed.

"Always so sweet," Father Cullen said, mumbling now as he stared into his cup of tea. "Carlisle chose well. If only Father Bennet... but I ought not speak ill..." The tremors in his hands grew stronger, and I cautiously reached out.

"Can I set your tea down for you?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Of course."

I took the cup, placing it on the tray just as Father Cullen's hand shot out and took mine, running a finger along the ring I wore. Even with his eyesight failing, it seemed he missed nothing. "I would recognize this anywhere. Perhaps you chose to ignore your old man's wishes anyways?"

"No. No... he gave it to me the night he left. A promise, he said, that he would get on my father's good side and find a way for us to be together for eternity."

Father Cullen sighed. "Eternity. That's what I told his mother when I gave her that ring, that we would be together for eternity. And we will be. I can feel that day growing closer." Clarity began to bloom in the Father's eyes, and his hands went limp. "Carlisle isn't simply out, is he?"

"No," I admitted, taking my hand back and staring down at the ring. The stone glinted in the candle light, somehow seeming more muted than a week ago, when Carlisle had slipped it onto my finger.

"He's still missing. How long has it been now?"

"Nearly six days. I apologize, Father. I should have said something, but... you seemed so peaceful."

"Ah, I would have just forgotten again." He closed his eyes, leaning back into his pillows. "I'm more gone than here lately. I hope you don't think less of me."

"Never," I promised.

Father Cullen shook his head. "If I were stronger, it would have been me out there. And you would be here, with your betrothed."

"You can't be blamed for your sickness, Father," I insisted. "Carlisle knows... knew that. He was happy to carry on your work."

He laughed sharply, a hoarse, rasping noise that turned into a small coughing fit. I quickly offered him the glass of water on the stand beside his bed and he drank gratefully, taking a moment to recover before speaking again. "Carlisle always hated the hunts. He has such a soft heart. Feared we acted too quickly, without evidence. The Lord doesn't need evidence, though. He knows the hearts of men and creatures, and He led me to the worst. Leading the hunts is possibly the last thing Carlisle ever wanted to do. You know this as well as I. Perhaps more so, eh?"

"Yes," I agreed. "But he seemed rather convinced about this one."

"And he was right, it seems." Father Cullen's eyes met mine. "Lorelle. I want you to know that regardless of whether the two of you had married or not, I've considered you a daughter for a long time now. That doesn't end."

Smiling, I reached out to pat his hand. "Thank you. You've been like a second father to me, as well."

"Oh, don't go flattering this old man," Father Cullen said, though the gleam in his eyes told me he was quite pleased. "Now. I imagine you didn't come here simply to listen to me wax on about nonsense. You have an air about you that makes me think you're plotting something."

I hesitated, not wanting to distress him, but I knew he would only pester me until I gave in. "I want to go look for Carlisle myself," I finally admitted. "I... I feel like he's still out there, Father. And if that's true, then he's injured, and alone, and in pain, and I can't stand the thought of that. But everyone who's still looking, I'm sure they think he's dead. However will they find him like that?"

"That's dangerous thinking, Lorelle," Father Cullen warned. "Even before this hunt went wrong, people were going missing every other day. There's no telling what you might find."

"It's worth the risk in my eyes."

He nodded, accepting my words. "Then go, with my blessing. Bring my son home."