Miguel
I blinked severally because it felt like I was dreaming. I knew the face that stood coyly in front of me but I could not remember the name. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to introduce herself and state her purpose in my office.
“I'm sister Matilda,” she said with a smile, “from St Jude's convent in New York? We have met a couple times already.”
I stared at her blankly, still confused, wondering why the hell she was here. Until, Father Jerome walked in afterwards.
“Miguel,” he had a smile on his face.
“Father!” I said warmly, “how was your flight?”
The young man replied, “it was the best. Thanks. About the parish…”
I stopped Father Jerome, “did she follow you?”
The young priest glanced at Matilda. I did not miss the heated gaze with which he stared at her. I rec
