“Me?” Father Mark blinked, meeting Emily’s smiling eyes. What other possible explanation was there? “Ummm…”
Samantha slipped her little hand into his. “If you get one, I won’t be so scared to get one…”
He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but he clearly relented the moment his eyes met Samantha’s. “Sure I am. Which one are you getting, Sam?”
She turned back to the chart, contemplating. “The hearts.”
“I can do hearts!” Alexis called over as the little boy with the deformed Batman symbol on his cheek hopped off her stool. “Come on over, Samantha. I’ll do you and Emily can do Father Mark.”
Her phrasing made Emily blush and she glanced up at Father Mark to see his cheeks were red too, but Alexis didn’t notice. She was too busy washing her brush.
“So…” Emily picked up her own brush, watching him slide up onto her stool, making him almost too tall for her to comfortably reach his cheek. “Do you want hearts, Father Mark?”
“How about… the cross?” He cleared his throat, looking at her design board. “That seems more appropriate.”
“Sure you don’t want the Batman symbol?” She smirked, picking up her gold paint. Father Mark’s cheek was warm to the touch and tinged slightly pink as she began to slowly stroke her brush against it. She thought she felt him shiver when she leaned in, her mouth close to his ear, her voice low. “I think you may secretly be Batman.”
“I wish.” He laughed, soft and low, teasing her. “You could be Wonder Woman and we could fight crime together.”
“I’d like that.” Emily continued to paint his cheek, as slowly as she could, making it last. She loved being so close to him, feeling the press of his leg against her hip. The tip of her brush kept trembling, forcing her to go even more slowly.
“What would your superpower be?” he asked.
“I already have it.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows went up. “What?”
“Invisibility.”
“You’re not invisible, Emily.” He turned to face her, meeting her eyes. “I see you.”
“There. Done.” Emily tried to hide her blush as she lifted the hand mirror so he could see what she’d painted.
He smiled. “You’re quite artistic.”
“Thanks.”
“Father Mark! Look at my hearts!” Samantha jumped down from her stool, skipping over to them and turning her cheek proudly so he could see. She was still fisting the bag with her goldfish in it.
“Beautiful, Sam!” He smiled, turning his cheek too. “Do you like mine?”
“Well, I like it okay.” Samantha cocked her head, frowning. “But maybe next time you should get Batman.”
Emily met his eyes and they both broke out laughing.
“Brandon! You won!” Samantha exclaimed, her attention distracted by her tattooed brother carrying a huge stuffed moose in their direction. She ran at him, squealing, throwing herself into his arms and he caught her without missing a beat, swinging her up onto his hip, the goldfish in her hand sloshing in its bag.
“Look at you, wearing your heart right there on your cheek.” He kissed her other cheek and she giggled, putting her arms around his neck.
“Bye Sam!” Emily called and the little girl turned to look over her brother’s shoulder and wave as they made their way through the crowd. She looked over at Father Mark, smiling. “What a sweetie.”
“Her mother committed suicide two years ago.” Father Mark waved back at the little girl. “Her brother has custody. He works three jobs.”
Emily blinked at him. “How awful.”
“Priests and doctors.” He shrugged, putting his hands into his pockets, still looking after them. “I guess we kind of know everything about everyone in a little town like this.”
“Have you ever regretted becoming a priest?” She asked the question without thinking, and wished she could take it back almost immediately, but when she looked up and met his eyes, she saw something there that made her knees weak.
“Not until recently.” His voice trembled. Then he cleared his throat, looking over at Alexis, who was washing red paint out her brush, and said more loudly, “Hey, I want to show you something. Do you get a break?”
“Ummmm.” Emily looked over at her roommate.
“Go ahead!” Alexis called, waving them away with her pink-tipped brush. “It’s almost closing time anyway. I’m fine here by myself.”
Emily looked at her watch, seeing that Alexis was right. It was almost five. Their line had dwindled as most of the kids crowded the booths where they could take one last shot at winning something before they went home, dazed with sugar, to pass out for the night.
“Where are we going?” Emily asked as they began to walk down the cement path. There was a park right next to the school owned by the church-named, not very originally, St. Mary’s Park-where they held all their larger events. There was even a bandstand where Christian music groups played in the summer.
“Do you like surprises?” he asked as they turned the corner into a more wooded area of the park. The cement path faded off into more of a trail here, but someone had obviously cleared it and put down mulch. The leaves crunched under their feet, creating a multicolored carpet.
“Depends on the surprise I guess.” She followed him as he made a sharp left turn, off the beaten path now. The woods were deeper here, and while she could still hear the throng of people behind them somewhere, the sound was faded, muffled. Father Mark caught her hand as she stepped over a fallen log. There was a path here, too, of sorts, but it hadn’t been used regularly in a long time, she gathered.
“Watch your step.” He helped her over the log and they went on, Father Mark still holding her hand. He didn’t let go as they made their way through the underbrush and he gallantly held branches out of her way as they walked
“It’s so beautiful.” Emily felt him squeeze her hand, as if reminding her he hadn’t forgotten he was holding it.
“I love autumn.” He smiled back at her, still leading the way. “Did you know that the leaves of deciduous trees aren’t really green? That’s just the color of the chlorophyll. As the weather gets cooler, the green fades, and the true colors of the leaves come out.”
“I suppose everyone’s true colors reveal themselves eventually, huh?” Emily looked around in wonder as he stopped walking, the path opening into a sudden clearing. “Oh! Look!”
But of course he already knew. This is what he had brought her here to see. The old stone chapel stood in the center of the clearing, its multi-colored stones giving it a cobbled look. The roof was dark, the steeple too, rising upward and ending at an iron cross. The pathway to it was worn and the grass mowed. Clearly it was taken care of. There were benches nearby, and in the distance, she could see the blue haze of Lake Michigan.
“It was built in 1866. They held church here on Sundays, and children attended school during the week.” Father Mark reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a very old looking key. “The church keeps it locked to keep out vandals.”
“I didn’t know this was back here.”
“Most people don’t.” He led her around to the side of the chapel. “It’s tradition that you should only enter a chapel from the side door.”
She followed him inside, expecting it to be musty and dank, but instead the mahogany pews gleamed and the stained glass windows near the ceiling reflected multi-colored patterns on the wood floor.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“My great-great-great grandfather held services in this church.” Father Mark pocketed the key, gently closing the door behind them. “When it was built, the whole community hauled field stones from their farms, and stone masons worked all summer to finish it.”
“Your great-great-great grandfather was a priest?”
“He was a preacher. And he wasn’t Catholic-he was Baptist.” He dipped his fingers in the holy water in the vestibule and made the sign of the cross.
Emily followed his example. “Baptist preachers can marry, can’t they?”