Aimee carried a full case of bottles into the nave. Father Trevelyan, still on the sanctuary steps in a cloud of depression, hugged his broken arm. She plopped the case down beside him and asked, “Do you believe in these things? These holy waters? Do you think they will work?”
It took him a moment then, barely audibly, he said, “I don"t know.”
“I did not expect you to know, Father. I wondered what you thought.”
When he didn"t answer, Aimee plunked down beside him. (Brandy"s jeans climbed nearly to her knees.)
“Forgive me, Aimee,” he said. “I don"t feel much like talking.”
“You feel like crying.” It was not a question. “I told Brandy I wanted to cry. She agreed; said she felt like it too. But she would not let me. She said there were things to do. She is risking her life to do them.” S
