Page 20 of Priest

“She’s been very kind.”

I know he’s prompting me for a response, but I don’t have one to give him. I can’t gain employment when I’m technically dead. I’ve given them a false name already… though going by Isabella Romano is hardly a lie. It’s my mom’s maiden name.

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do. I know you have great potential.”

I frown. “At what?” I blurt out.

He blinks a couple of times, clearly not expecting me to ask. “Well, you enjoy cooking, and from what I hear, you’re good at it. You could do some work experience with Manny and then maybe look at culinary school classes.”

I stare at him, unmoving. Culinary classes? I’ve never even considered such an idea.

I try not to let the smile show on my face at how sweet he’s being, suggesting such a thing. The reality of my former life is that women like me don’t work. We had staff — many, many staff over the years — who took care of everything, including the meals. My only role in the family unit was to stay a virgin and marry within the ranks that made our family empire even stronger. The reins were so tight that I still second guess every move I make, not quite believing that I’m free of it all.

Occasionally, I’d sneak into the kitchen and help the chef. He’d always be kind and let me annoy him, and he taught me many things. But it was Nonna who taught me how to cook properly. I’ll always be grateful for that.

“I’ve never even considered that,” I admit.

“Maybe talk to Father Dan about it when he’s back. I know he’s been mentoring you and he’ll know a lot more people than I do.”

I feel a slight tinge of disappointment because I want it to be Priest who’s mentoring me, but that’s only because I’ve developed this little crush on him. I really hope it’s not obvious; that would be embarrassing.

“I will,” I say. “I’ll talk to Father Dan, and Linda. She’s been helpful and I want you to know how grateful I am, to you and to Stella and Manny for being so kind…”

He watches me carefully. “Is everything okay in there?” He thumbs behind him again.

I nod. I don’t get one of the private rooms as they’re reserved for women with children, or families. “They’re great, but as you say, it isn’t a long-term solution.” I need to get to Texas…

“Well, we can talk about some options with Linda and Dan, if you’d like?”

I like it when he says we.

I nod. As long as he’s involved in the process, I’m keen. “That sounds good.”

He smiles. “Alright, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Priest.” I pull on the door handle to let myself out.

“Goodnight, Bella.”

I hurry inside, and Priest doesn’t pull away from the curb until I’m safely inside the doors. I can’t help the way my heart thumps in my chest when he’s like this. He does genuinely care about me, and as much as I try to tamper down those feelings, I know that I’m feeling things for him that I shouldn’t.

A man like him could never want me anyway. He’s older than me, for one. And he’s not interested in me in that way. He’s just being nice because he’s a good person.

Nothing can or will come of this because I’m a ghost. A shadow. Nobody. And for a few fleeting seconds I have this fantasy that I have a life here. My own apartment. Going to culinary school. Working at the Soup Kitchen alongside Priest.

I smile to myself as I walk toward the dorm.

It’s a pleasant fiction; one that I’ll hold onto because right now… it’s all I have.

The next day my sides hurt from laughing.

Manny insists I do everything and he’ll act as my Sous chef. I have to admit, I’ve never cooked for this many people before, but with Manny by my side, I feel like I can conquer anything.

I chop mushrooms and onions, Manny sings and hums along to the radio. I’ve never really had friends like I have here. I was never allowed to associate with anyone other than those my father approved of, and most of them were my stuck up cousins and the children of the men he worked with. We had nothing in common aside from our backgrounds. Everything in my former life was curated.

“Turn that frown upside down!” Manny waves a wooden spoon at me and I shake myself out of my reverie.

“Sorry,” I say. “I used to make this recipe with my Nonna. She was really special to me, but she passed away recently.”

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