I hesitated. Was he allowed? He wasn’t Catholic, and even most Catholics didn’t go onto the altar. Not because we weren’t allowed, because we wanted to be respectful. It was a sacred space.
He was leaning forward, intensely interested in what was in front of us.
“Yeah, I guess. Just be reverent and bow before you go up the steps—and don’t touch anything.”
“I’m not a child. I’m not going to break anything,” he said, standing.
“Don’t touch anything,” I reiterated, feeling like I was going to get in trouble for his being in here. Not that there was even a reason to think he shouldn’t be, but it seemed odd that someone who didn’t go to our church was now stepping up to our altar. Maybe it happened all the time, but I’d never seen it.
He went forward, bowed awkwardly from the waist, and went up the steps. He paused, then moved to the side, stopped, then moved forward. He repeated the process, as if he was figuring out which way to go. Finally, he stopped hesitating and began moving forward. He stood in front of the tabernacle, reaching a hand toward it.
I practically jumped from the pew, did a quick half bow, and ran to him. “I told you not to touch,” I whispered. Not whispering at the altar would feel wrong.
“I didn’t touch it. I wanted to,” he acknowledged, “but I didn’t.”
“Come on, we should go,” I said, pulling him away from the tabernacle. I couldn’t believe I almost let him touch the tabernacle. I guessed touching wouldn’t have been so bad, but what if he’d opened it. My face burned with the thought of that sacrilege.
I bowed as we left the altar, silently apologizing to God for allowing Luca so close to the tabernacle. I felt Luca watching me. Over my shoulder I saw that he did not bow. When we reached the back of the church he stopped, turning once again to face the altar.
“What’s in there?” he asked.
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. He was focused on the tabernacle.
“Consecrated hosts,” I said. “Catholics believe Jesus is in them. I mean, not like shrunk down and hanging out inside, but that the bread, when consecrated, changes into Jesus’s flesh.”
He stared at me.
“I know it sounds bizarre … it’s in the Bible. John, chapter 6, plus there have been miracles—”
“I’m not debating the theology,” he said, cutting me off.
I realized then I was taking a defensive stance.
“I felt the presence,” he said, laughing out loud. “That’s incredible.”
“You can feel it?” I asked, puzzled by how joyful he was. It was a distinct change from his typical disposition.
“Totally,” he said, almost giddy. “That’s crazy. I’ve felt evil my whole life and never felt goodness, not like this. My body, my … my soul … feels so … so healthy! Can I go back up there?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head and pulling him toward the door.
“Why not?” he asked, sounding hurt.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It doesn’t seem like something you’re supposed to do.”
The door opened before we reached it, the sunlight making it difficult to see for a moment.
“Oh, you aren’t alone,” Thomas said, his voice surprised.
I released Luca’s arm.
Thomas said, “I noticed you came in here. When you didn’t come out, I thought I should check on you. Had I known your neighbor was in here with you, I never would’ve worried.”
His words were nice enough. His tone was accusing.
“I was showing Luca the church,” I lied, though I wasn’t sure why.
“That’s good of you,” Thomas said, coming beside me. “Can I walk you back to the cantina? Gigi said your break was over at four. I stopped by earlier to ask if you wanted to share some pie.”
“That would’ve been nice,” I said, thinking of the gooseberry pie I was craving earlier.
“I’ll bring you some,” Thomas said, holding the door open. “Are you coming?” he said to Luca.
Thomas’s tone was harsh, but I was sure he was just tired. The festival took a lot out of each of us.
Luca followed behind us and slipped away before I could say anything. It was all right, I decided. I’d find him at home.
“You don’t mind bringing me some pie?” I asked Thomas as he walked me back to the cantina.
“Not at all,” he said, his hand on my back. “I’ll be right back.”
After he left, Gigi said, “Why was he leading you like that?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like you were a child who stepped out of line,” she said with disgust.
“He was just walking me back from the church. He saw me go in and went to check on me.”
“Was he following you?” she asked with contempt.
“No,” I said, defending him. “He was being attentive. He noticed me go in and when it took me a while to come out, he thought he should come check.”
Thomas came back into view, carrying a piece of pie.
“What’s he doing now?” she asked, her expression sour.
“Bringing me pie,” I said, gushing slightly. He walked with such confidence; I liked that about him.
Gigi turned away as Thomas approached.
“Here you go,” Thomas said, handing me a fork.
It was pumpkin, not gooseberry, but that was okay. I’d get a piece of gooseberry before we left and eat it for breakfast.
As I took a forkful of the creamy pumpkin filling, Thomas said softly, “I’m not sure how I feel about you spending time with Luca.”
“We weren’t exactly spending time together,” I said.
“You were in the same place, alone, together,” Thomas said, his eyebrow rising when he said “alone.”
“We were in church and we’re just friends, or not even. We’re neighbors,” I said.
“That might be how you perceive it, but any guy alone with any girl is going to recognize it as an opportunity,” he said as he finished his half of the pie.
“Is that how you saw it when we went on our picnic?” I said, watching for his reaction.
“I’m different,” he said. “But Luca, I mean he never even had a dad. He has no idea what it means to be a virtuous man.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, feeling defensive of Luca. “Luca has no interest in me as anything more than a neighbor, and maybe a friend. Even if he did, I get to decide who I’m interested in, or not.”
“You think that. All girls think that. None of you have any idea how easy girls are to manipulate.”
I stared at him. Was he serious?
Gigi moved closer, though she kept her back to us.
“That sounded bad,” Thomas said, holding up a hand as if to try and calm me down. “I didn’t mean it like that and you’re nothing like other girls. I merely meant most girls are easy to fool and most guys know it.”
“So, have you ‘fooled’ girls before?” I asked, staring at him, daring him to lie.
He swallowed hard and said, “In the past, I was not as good a guy as I should’ve been, but that was a long time ago.”
“You’re seventeen,” I said, crossing my arms. “How long ago could it have been?”
“Why are you getting so mad?” he asked, reaching out and touching my arm.
Suddenly I saw it all so clearly.
“I need to get back to work,” I said, throwing the empty pie plate in the trash.
“I’ll text you later,” he said.
I didn’t respond.
I refused Gigi’s numerous attempts at eye contact for the rest of the day and night. I didn’t need her telling me “I told you so.”
Sixteen
The 9:00 a.m. Mass was a little light on attendance due to the full day of festivities the day before. I was exhausted, like everyone else in my family. Nevertheless, we were in our regular pew. Thomas, too, was there, the stubble on his face a little darker and the blueness of his eyes a bit duller. Or perhaps that was just how I perceived them.
He carried the cross to the altar, his strides revealing the black pants he was wearing beneath the long white altar server robe. As he took his place beside Father, he glanced in my direction and offered me the faintest smile. I shifted my attention away from him.
Father Luke’s homily was good, which was a bit unusual for him. My dad always said we weren’t at Mass for the priest, and I agreed. We were there for the Eucharist, though it helped when Father Luke spoke from his heart and not from a script. Today he spoke about the success of yesterday’s festival and how honored he was to be part of our parish.
He was a good man and a wonderful priest, simply not the best at homilies. I think part of that was he was very smart but not a great teacher. He had a difficult time reaching those of us who didn’t have PhDs in theology. That wasn’t his fault, and we wouldn’t trade him—though most of us looked forward to whenever Deacon gave the homily.
Throughout the service, anytime I glanced at Thomas, his eyes were either on me or staring, almost glaring at something or someone in the back of the church. I tried not to notice, but it was difficult knowing I was being watched, plus I was curious about what was happening in the back. No one else would think anything about him watching the back of the church. There were always parents taking young kids in and out of Mass. But I wondered if his watching me was noticed. My family and I sat in the second row, diagonal from where Thomas and Father sat. The natural place for his gaze to fall was on us, yet it never did before. We’d been sitting in this same pew for years and he’d been an altar server since the third grade. Despite this, I’d never noticed him looking in the direction of my family before—now it was nonstop.
In many ways, Thomas struck me as a different person from the boy I had grown up with. There was an intensity about him that, in some ways, was attractive and, in other ways, repulsive. I wondered if maybe I was simply noticing the difference because I was actually paying attention to him. I didn’t think so. Even his physical presence was different. He’d grown during the summer; that happens to guys our age. But even the way he carried himself was different. His hair was longer and any awkwardness he may have had when he was younger was gone. The boy had been replaced by a man and yet there was something more—a difference I couldn’t see but could sense.
As he and Father processed from the church, I realized what he was staring at. Luca was there, in the last row. He watched as Thomas carried the cross and placed it on the stand in the back of the church. Then Luca ducked out of the church as if not wanting to be noticed. By the time my family reached the back of the church, he was long gone and Thomas was nowhere to be seen. We all shook hands with Father Luke before we left the building. His kind awkwardness endeared him to all of his flock.
In the parish hall, Avi was already at the donut table, waiting for the volunteers to open the boxes.
I went to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Be patient,” I whispered in her ear.
“I can’t, not when there’s sugar so close,” she said, bouncing on her toes.
I kissed her on the head. The sparkly barrette Gigi had placed there kept her hair from falling into her eyes. The box opened, and Avi took one with chocolate icing and sprinkles. I chuckled to myself as she left the line and began indulging in her treasure.
“Your sister seriously likes donuts,” Thomas said.
I turned. He stood behind me. I moved away from the donut table, and so did he.
“She’s addicted to sugar,” I said.
“Most eight-year-olds are,” he said as he watched her devour the fried dough covered with sugar.
“I’m surprised you know how old she is,” I said.
“Our families have grown up together,” he said.
“Yes, but I didn’t think you were paying attention,” I said.
“You underestimate me,” he said as he pushed his hair back, out of his eyes.
I took a cup of orange juice and moved to the center of the hall.
“Listen,” he said, placing his fingers on my arm, “I’m sorry I said those things yesterday. You are fully capable of deciding who you spend time with. I just … Luca is so … you could do better. A lot better,” he said in a superior tone.
“I suppose you would be better,” I said, taking a sip of juice.
“Yes,” he said flatly, with no trace of amusement. “He’s pathetic coming to church, trying to trick you into thinking he’s good enough for you.”
I stood taller. “I don’t think he was here for me.”
“How can you be so naïve?” he said, keeping his voice low. “Why else would he show up at our church?”
“He felt something yesterday when he came into the church. A presence in the tabernacle,” I said.
Thomas closed the gap between us. His eyes seemed to change color in front of me: all hint of blue was gone, in its place … darkness.
“He’s such a liar,” he said. “I can’t stand how much he lies to you.”
I backed up, bumping into someone as I did.
“How are you this morning, Thomas?” Gigi said from beside me.
I exhaled, relieved she was there.
Thomas stepped back. “I’m doing well. Thank you for asking, Mrs. Cameron.”
“Did you enjoy the festival?” she asked, looping her arm through mine.
“Yes, it was very nice,” he said, sipping the coffee he held in his hand. “The silent auction was quite successful.”
“So I heard,” she said. “That’s kind of your parents to head that up every year and nice of you to help,” she said, subtly steering me away from him.
In the distance his mom was watching us, she and her friends cheerfully whispering as they pretended not to watch.
What had he told her about us?
“I’m always happy to help the church,” he said.
“Yes.” Gigi gazed up at him. “I’m sure you are. Siena, your dad is ready. Excuse us, Thomas, we are all tired after yesterday.”
Gigi and I turned while Thomas came beside me, touching my arm.
“Wait,” he said. “Can I come over this afternoon?”
I hesitated. His mom’s eyes were on me, though she could not hear our conversation. “No,” I said.
“No?” he asked, shocked at being turned down.
Gigi grinned and released my arm. “Avila, put down that donut,” she demanded, and joined my sister.
I focused on Thomas. “I think it’s best we go back to how things were before, when you weren’t trying to manipulate me and I wasn’t trying to convince myself you weren’t.”
“Siena, I told you I never meant that about you.”
Again, his fingers touched my arms.
“And what would you say right now, if you had?” I said, staring up at him.
He blinked.
“Exactly,” I said, holding back tears as I slowly walked away. I desperately wished I could believe Thomas wasn’t the boy he was.
Gigi was waiting, holding the parish hall door open for me. Avi was skipping toward our car.
“I’m proud of you,” Gigi said as I passed her.
My shoulders drooped. “It’s not like we were even dating or anything.”
“That’s the point. He was pursuing you and you stopped it immediately. That’s the best time to stop something, before it starts.”
“I guess,” I said, feeling miserable, far more miserable than I ever thought I’d feel at ending things with someone I wasn’t even officially dating. But I liked him. I hadn’t thought I did, but I did, and turning him down meant more than simply turning him down. It meant turning the dream of him down.
“Why did I like him?” I asked Gigi as we walked to the car.
“Nothing is as attractive as a boy who gives attention to a girl who is starved for attention,” Gigi said.
“I’m not starved for attention,” I said, offended.
“Oh, really? You have lots of people your age wanting to spend time with you?”
Why couldn’
t she be less honest, at least at times like this? “No,” I said.
“That’s why you liked him. Don’t go reading anything more into it,” Gigi said.
“That’s not enough,” I said.
“Darling, at seventeen, interest is enough. But you’re right, and later in life you’ll be better at deciding who you like instead of simply liking someone back.”
“I feel stupid,” I mumbled.
“Don’t. It’s simply one of those things.”
“I guess Thomas was right. Girls are easy to manipulate,” I said with an edge of anger.
“He may have been somewhat right, but most boys his age don’t realize that, and they are as easily won over by attention. It is a different sort of person who recognizes the weaknesses of those around him and preys on them,” she said coldly.
“He wasn’t preying on anyone,” I said.
“Because you didn’t let him, not because he didn’t try,” she said, her eyes on mine silently daring me to disagree.
I didn’t respond.
At the car, I got in after Avi. With the door shut, I looked out the window.
Thomas was there, his mom beside him, watching us drive away.
Seventeen
A few hours after lunch, Jackson and I took a blanket and went to the beach. We would not have many more warm, sunny days this year. The gray, cold days of winter would be here far too soon. I lay on a rock, the blanket soft beneath me, as Jackson searched for sea creatures. The sun became hot against my skin. I was grateful for our cove, for the wind it kept out, and the peace it kept in. This cove was the reason Gigi’s grandparents had built their inn where they did, and it was the same reason Gigi and my grandfather decided to buy this land, even if it did mean dealing with her grandparents.
Jackson barked.
“Leave that poor green crab alone,” I said to him. “Besides, if you eat it, you’ll get sick.”
I rolled onto my stomach and lifted my shirt so the small of my back could be warmed. I turned my head to the south. I was grateful for the state park, grateful no one would ever be able to buy or develop the land close to us. Thomas was wrong; there was nothing boring or lonely about this place. I turned my head to the other side; the inn was there, as always, nestled in the trees on a side of the cliff. That side, too, was protected. We owned this half of the mountain. If someone wanted to build on the other side, we couldn’t stop them, though we’d still have a mountain peak between us and them.
Awakening Page 13
