Page 54 of Jenna's Threatened Sanctuary

A flash of movement caught her eye through the glass. She stepped into the sacred space and nostalgia washed over her. The smells of incense burned her nose, and a sheen of tears misted her eyes. This was the place Stella had found solace—had been given a second chance at life only to have it cut short.

She strolled down the long aisle toward the altar, skimming her fingers along the backs of the wooden pews on her way.

Father Bowman rounded the corner from the shadows with a large chalice in his hands. “Jenna, there you are. Glad you could come by so quickly.”

She swallowed her nearly suffocating emotions. She forced a smile. “Hello, Father Bowman. Thanks for reaching out. I’m glad we can go over the details of the funeral.”

Father Bowman pressed his lips together and dipped his chin. “Please come in and have a seat.”

Jenna settled onto the front pew and placed her hands on her lap, her back straight. Some habits were hard to break. “Thank you. Where should we start?”

Father Bowman fixed a patient smile on Jenna. He grabbed a bowl off the alter. “I need a couple of minutes before we can begin. I just finished blessing the sacrament. A few regulars come to take communion. People who work on Sundays or stop by for confession. I’d love to offer you the body and blood of Christ.”

Jenna studied the offering, caught off guard by the request. She searched her brain, trying to recall if it was normal for parishioners to take communion other than during Mass. But it’d been years since her last time partaking in the sacrament.

Her soul ached. She yearned for the simpler times when her faith carried her through the small things in life. That had all changed after her parents’ death. But taking communion now might bring a peace she craved. “I’d like that.”

Father Bowman descended the few steps and stopped in front of her. She rose to her feet, but he nodded toward the pew. “No need to stand. Make yourself comfortable.”

Jenna settled back onto the hard bench and cupped her right hand under her left, staring up at him. The almost forgotten but familiar words washed over her as he began the liturgy. To her surprise, she even found herself responding at the appropriate places.

Father Bowman offered her a wafer. “The body of Christ for you.”

She accepted the small, circular disk and placed it on her tongue. She made the sign of the cross over her chest, averting her eyes from the handsome priest. No flowing robe hid his toned body beneath the fitted black pants and buttoned-down shirt. If the starched white clerical collar didn’t dominate the top of his throat, she’d never believe he was part of the clergy.

She’d never taken communion sitting with the priest standing above her. The intimacy of the moment raised her hackles, heightening her awareness of how close Father Bowman stood. Was this normal procedure for him, or had he loosened the strict rules that dictated the ritual because only the two of them were there? Either way, she wasn’t comfortable with the invasion of her personal space.

“The blood of Christ.” Father Bowman smiled and lowered the cup to her lips.

She placed her hands on the bottom of the chalice and tilted it upward until the sweet wine filled her mouth then blessed herself once more.

“There’s not much left in there. Might as well finish it.” Father Bowman chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows as he handed her the cup.

She squinted at him. She’d assume he was joking if he hadn’t pressed the cup in her hand. He pressed his hand on top of hers and she sealed her lips around the metal and tipped her head back. He refused to release the pressure on the cup until she’d drank the rest of the wine then coughed, expelling the lingering droplets from her throat. An odd taste tainted the wine.

She shifted to the side, putting a little more distance between them. “So is there a program or something you’d like me to approve? I’d love if we could incorporate some of Stella’s favorite things into the service. Songs or poems she loved.”

Father Bowman held up a finger. “Please, just give me one more second. Let me just put this away.” He disappeared back into the shadows he’d emerged from on the side of the altar.

Jenna fiddled with the purse strap still on her shoulder then let it slide to the seat beside her. Her throat burned, not exactly the sensations she’d hoped for after receiving communion. Footsteps sounded off the high ceiling from behind her. Jenna turned and watched Father Bowman hurrying down the aisle.She raised her brows. “Where did you come from? I didn’t see you go to the back of the church.”

He shrugged. “I had to get something from the office. It was quicker to come back in the sanctuary this way.” He sat beside her and relaxed against the pew with his arm dangling from the back of the seat.

Jenna scooted to regain her personal space, suddenly wondering about the man she’d given free rein to plan her sister’s final goodbye. “Did you know any of Stella’s favorite hymns?”

His charm melted into sorrow. “I can’t say that I do. We chatted after church sometimes. That’s about it.”

“Never when she was cleaning?”

He shook his head. “I’m not here much in the evenings.”

She blinked, trying to line up her thoughts, but quicksand swallowed her brain. “I don’t recall seeing you around town. Have you been the priest here long?”

A sly grin slid onto his mouth. “Nah. I haven’t actually been a priest that long. Was called to the clergy later in life than most.”

Her head was suddenly heavy on her shoulders. “Really? Why is that?”

He rubbed his palms over his thighs. “It’s a long story. One that isn’t easy to tell. But God works in mysterious ways. Joining the priesthood brought me here. Right where I needed to be.”

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