Page 6 of Unholy Fate

Staggering back, I clutched my arm as the men wrestled Frank away from me. My pulse pounded in my ears. Someone called for an ambulance. Frank thrashed and howled, his words a jumbled stream of warnings and pleas.

Serena’s gentle touch on my shoulder startled me back to the present. “Evelyn, are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Concern was etched in her features as she eased me into the folding chair.

I shook my head. Anger burned in my chest, warring with the guilt that followed close behind. How could I feel such fury toward a man so clearly in need of help? What kind of person was I, to wish violence upon one of the troubled souls I’d vowed to serve?

Unwelcome thoughts slithered through my mind. If men like Frank faced the same brutality they inflicted on others,perhaps they’d think twice before attacking women. The fleeting satisfaction at the notion of vengeance made my stomach twist. No. That was not the way of Christ. I would pray for Frank’s healing, not his suffering.

Composing myself, I turned to the director. “Will he be okay? Is there anything else I can do to help?”

The director shook his head, his expression grim. “No, Sister. You’ve done more than enough. We’ll take it from here.”

Serena and I gathered our belongings and made our way to the exit. As we stepped out into the fading daylight, Serena’s arm slipped around my waist, offering silent support. I leaned into her, drawing strength from her steady presence.

“Sister Evelyn,” Serena asked tentatively, breaking the heavy silence between us. “After the day we’ve had... perhaps a small indulgence might help lift our spirits. There’s that lovely cafe just ahead, the one with the caramel apple lattes. Surely the Lord would not begrudge us a moment’s respite?”

I hesitated, torn between the desire for comfort and the nagging sense that I had not yet earned it. Had I not just entertained thoughts of violence, however briefly? Did I deserve such a treat when my soul remained mired in sin?

But Serena’s hopeful expression and the bone-deep weariness settling over me won out. With a sigh, I acquiesced. “Very well. But just this once, mind you. We mustn’t make a habit of it.”

Serena tried to hide her delight in my easy agreement. “Of course, Sister. Just this once.”

As we approached the cafe, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, sugar, and yeasty dough enveloped us. The cheerful tinkleof the bell above the door seemed to signal a momentary truce with the world’s troubles.

Inside, the warm glow of pendant lights and the low murmur of conversation wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. I inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar scent of caramel and apples that always reminded me of crisp autumn days and the simple joys of my youth.

We made our way to the counter where a smiling barista greeted us with a knowing look. “The usual, Sister Evelyn? One large caramel apple latte, extra whip?”

I ducked my head as a flush of embarrassment at being so easily read colored my cheeks. Perhaps I stopped here a bit too often when I was alone.

“Yes, please,” I said, avoiding Serena’s amused gaze.

As we waited for our drinks, I marveled at the ease with which temptation seemed to find me, even in the most innocuous of places. The insidious whispers of desire, the constant battle against my own flawed nature. Would it ever get easier to resist the call of the senses? Or was this to be my lifelong penance, a cross I must bear?

Lost in my troubled musings, I startled when Serena pressed the steaming latte into my hands. The heat seeped through the ceramic, chasing away the chill that had settled deep in my bones. I took a cautious sip, letting the rich, sweet flavor flood my senses.

For one blissful moment, the world fell away, and I allowed myself to simply be. To savor the small comfort of a shared moment with a dear friend, untainted by the shadows that so often haunted me.

The bell above the café door jangled, heralding a new arrival. I glanced up reflexively, my attention pulled to the stranger like a moth to a flame.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a mane of golden hair that seemed to catch the light like a halo. His sharp features were almost too perfect, as if he’d been carved from marble by a master sculptor’s hand.

My pulse quickened with a sudden, treachorous rush of desire. Mentally, I crossed myself, silently rebuking the impure ideas that flooded my mind unbidden.

“Evelyn?” Serena cut through the haze, tinged with concern. “Are you all right?”

I tore my gaze from the stranger, pushing away the unwanted and intrusive thoughts. “Fine. I’m fine. Just...lost in thought for a moment.”

But even as I spoke, I could feel the man’s stare, his ice-blue eyes boring into me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

He approached our table with a swagger, his lips curved in a sensual grin. “Forgive the intrusion, Sisters,” he said. “But I noticed you from across the room. I’m new in town, and I was hoping you might be able to point me in the direction of the nearest church.”

I exchanged a glance with Serena, my unease growing by the second. There was nothing to indicate our vocation. Something about this man set my nerves on edge and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Of course,” I said. “St. Augustine’s is just a few blocks from here. If you head north on Main Street, you can’t miss it.”

The man gave a small bow while holding my gaze. “Thank you, Sister. I appreciate the guidance.”

Then he took my hand, sending a wave of goosebumps along my arm, his caress both unexpected and electrifying. He traced the purple bruises darkening my wrists, the gentle touch a strange counterpoint to the memory of Frank’s brutal grip. His unnerving stare, heavy with unspoken meaning, held mine captive, a surprisingly intimate moment in the bustling coffee shop.

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