A/N: I know what you mean pumpkinpuss, Ichabod would be incredibly smelly and would indeed need a bath after that, but for Claire to bath him? That would be improper! (Although I know the Claire she's named after would love to ;)) So, on with the story!
Chapter Eleven: My pleas fall on deaf ears
I take to the streets before Ichabod returns, to ask Father Samuell one last time to change his mind about his decision. One last chance to let me have the thing I crave more than any other. I step into the church, it is not dark yet, and I take off my hood. I see Father Samuell by the altar, moving and preparing things for the service tomorrow.
"Father Samuell," I state. He turns and looks at me, I can see he is frustrated with my constant questioning, but he must realize how important this is to me! He does not, however, vocalize his frustration, and I know it takes every effort from him, but he must not, he is God's servant, and he knows he must be understanding and comforting to all he can. But he has already twice refused me, and there is only a tiny spark of hope left inside me, and part of me knows he will refuse again.
"Good evening, child," he replies, going back to preparing the altar. I walk up to him and stand beside him.
"Father Samuell, I know you have refused me of a funeral for my mother before. But please, I ask you this final time, and I will not again. Please reconsider, it would mean so much to me, and I know that it would mean to you for knowing you had helped. It would not take much on your part, only the service. Please." Father Samuell turns to me, and says the words he has said twice before.
"Miss Archer, I can not go against the church, the church is my life, my livelihood and my home. My belief, you can believe all that you will, but I am nowhere without mine. God shows me the path, and He does you too. Trust God when He says that what you ask of can not be done, none of us should defy God to the point that we do something such as what you suggest. I know this must be a difficult time for you, what with the passing of your mother, and hearing this, but really, nothing can be done. We can just let her soul rest, and hope that she finds her own way to God's door, which I am certain she will if she did not chose her current place of burial. I understand your pain."
"You know nothing of my pain," I reply. "I had hoped you would reconsider, and I felt I needed to give you one last chance to do my will. But you will not. Therefore I will go, I do not know when I shall next see you again, Father. I can not even say if it will be on this earth, or with God on the next one."
"Miss Archer. . ." I bid the Father farewell, and turn out of the church.