Time Off for Good Behavior (27 page)

“
Why?
”

“
So you can tell me what I should do.
”

“
What makes you think I know w
hat you should do?
”

“
Well, I figure a priest won
’
t let me do the wrong thing.
”

“
This is why people need to join the church before going to confession. I
’
m here to listen to your sins, not to make all your choices for you.
”

Now, there was the Father Hard-As
s I knew and loved.
“
Look, I
’
m just trying to do the right thing. Tell me what to do, and I
’
ll do it.
”

“
All right. Join the church.
”

We both laughed.
“
No, Father. I mean about the something meaningful. Should I do it? Do the ends justify the means?
”

“
That
all depends on the ends and the means.
”

I threw my hands up in the air.
“
For crying out loud! Do I have to join the church to get a straight answer outta you?
”

“
Yes!
”
He laughed again, then paused. When he started talking, his voice was more serious.
“
What
you need to do is between you and God. And I
’
m not privy to that information, even if you join the church.
”
A beat.
“
But it can
’
t hurt to hedge your bets.
”

I grinned.
“
A couple of Hail Marys, then?
”

“
We
’
ll get to that. For now, I think you should go to th
e gift shop and buy a St. Erasmus medal.
”

“
A St. what medal?
”

“
Erasmus. Also known as St. Elmo.
”

“
Oh,
”
I said, brightening.
“
The guy from
St. Elmo
’
s Fire
?
”

Father Hard-Ass sighed. I imagined he got that a lot.
“
The lights in the sky that used to help sail
ors find their way were named after him, yes. He
’
s the patron saint of navigators. Maybe he can help you find your way.
”

I could feel my throat tighten with emotion.
Cripes.
What was the deal with me? Getting weepy over a saint? I should trade in all those
sticky notes for a prescription and get it over with. I stood up.

“
Thanks.
”
I looked up at the ornate cathedral ceiling again.
“
Hey, Father? I know this is supposed to be all confidential and everything, but can I know your name?
”

There was a pause. Then,
“
I
’
m Father Gregory.
”

“
Nice to meet you, Father Gregory. I
’
m Wanda.
”

I heard a chuckle.
“
It was nice meeting you, too, Wanda.
”

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn
’
t see it. I grabbed at the curtain but paused before leaving.
“
Father Gregory?
”

“
Yes?
”

“
Thank you. For listening to me. Even though I
’
m not part of your flock.
”

He leaned close to the grate and spoke in a low, friendly tone.
“
Don
’
t tell anyone, but I
’
ve enjoyed listening to you.
”

I smiled. Had me a priest on my team. That had to be a good sig
n.
“
Maybe I
’
ll see you again sometime.
”

“
I
’
m here all week. Be sure to tip your waitress.
”

I went straight from there to the gift shop. They were all out of St. Erasmus medals. Shocker.

***

“
Just shut up and sit down,
”
I said.
“
And put the damn hat on, w
ill you?
”

Bones grumbled something offensive but put the hat on.
“
What time is it?
”
he asked.
“
I
’
m already hotter
’
n hell in this getup.
”

I checked my watch.
“
Eight-forty-five. Fifteen minutes to open.
”

I checked the connection from the digital camera on t
he tripod to the computer, then went around the desk to check out the image in the software Kacey had set up for me. I hit the button to take the picture, and the flash lit up Bones
’
s craggy old face.

“
Damn, girl, you trying to blind me?
”
he yelled.
“
I don
’
t know who ever heard of a black damn Santa Claus, anyway.
”

“
You don
’
t shut up, Bones,
”
I said, bringing the printout over to show him,
“
you
’
re gonna be a dead damn Santa Claus.
”

He took the printout from me. It was good quality, on card stock, with a mis
tletoe border that read
“
Merry Christmas
”
in the lower right-hand corner. He harrumphed and handed it back to me.

“
It
’
s off-center.
”

“
You
’
re off-center,
”
I grumbled, heading back to the computer but freezing midway.

“
Bones? Is that music playing on the sys
tem?
”

“
What music?
”
Damn.
The crescendo built. I hummed along, closed my eyes, tried to place it.

“
What
’
s wrong with you, Wanda?
”

I held up a hand to shush Bones. The music faded.
Shit.
I continued over to the computer, only looking up after I realized Bones had been uncommonly silent.

“
What?
”
I said.

“
You going crazy on me, girl?
”
he asked.

“
Just a little,
”
I said.
“
No more than usual.
”

He nodded but continued to watch me, his dark eyes
glittering with poorly masked concern.

“
Stop eyeballing me, Bones,
”
I said.
“
I
’
m fine.
”

He looked away, tugging at the collar of the Santa suit.
“
Don
’
t think I
’
m gonna be doing this Santa thing for you every damn day. I have real work to do, you know.
”

I
grinned.
“
Just smile and look pretty, Bones. Only six more hours to go.
”

***

“
Have you spoken to Jack lately?
”

Elizabeth stopped dunking her tea bag. I took a sip of my coffee and tried to look casual.

“
No,
”
she said, and continued dunking.
“
Why?
”

“
No re
ason,
”
I said, shrugging.
“
Can I ask you something?
”

“
Sure.
”

“
Do you still love him?
”

She gave me a tight smile.
“
Are you ever going to call Walter or what?
”

Oooh. Counterattack. I raised my eyebrows and pulled an Elizabeth.
“
We were talking about Walter?
”

“
No,
”
she said, then threw her hands up in the air.
“
Don
’
t you have Santa pictures to take?
”

I shook my head.
“
Monday. Station
’
s closed. Deft change of subject, by the way. Now back to you and Jack.
”

“
Why are you suddenly so interested in me and Jack?
”
Sh
e white-knuckled her tea mug and took a sip. I half expected the thing to crack in her hands.

“
He came by to check on the house on Thanksgiving. We talked.
”

“
Wait. You were here on Thanksgiving? I thought you had plans.
”

“
They fell through. Anyway, we talked and...
”
I cleared my throat.
“
He still loves you, Elizabeth.
”

She put the mug down and put her face in her hands.
“
I can
’
t talk about this, Wanda.
”

“
Okay,
”
I said.
“
That
’
s okay Look, I don
’
t know anything about anything
, but he seemed sincere to me. I just thought you should know.
”

She slammed her hands down on the table. I jumped back.
“
I know,
”
she said, her voice taut with anger.
“
I know he loves me. I know he
’
s out there being all hurt and sorry and...
”
She took a de
ep breath. Her eyes welled up.
“
You wanna know if I love him? Yes, I love him. And maybe he still loves me. And maybe he
’
s changed, but I
’
m not going to destroy myself again on a maybe. I
’
d rather be alone forever than go through that again.
”
She stood up
and poured her tea down the drain. I kept my back to her, feeling like the stupidest person alive, hearing my father
’
s voice ring out in my head:
Sometimes you just have to know when to shut the hell up.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
I said.
“
I shouldn
’
t have said anything.
”

She sighed. I turned around and looked at her. In four minutes she
’
d aged five years.

“
No, I
’
m sorry,
”
she said, rubbing her forehead.
“
It
’
s just... You
’
re right. You don
’
t know about me and Jack. Just like I don
’
t know what
’
s going
on with you and Walter, but I stay out of it because it
’
s not my business.
”

I nodded.
“
Well, actually, you have kind of butted in on it once or twice.
”

She raised one eyebrow at me.
“
You looking for a fight?
”