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“Is all of this church property?” I point at our surroundings.

He nods. “This hillside down to the main road. There’s a small cottage over there where I live.” He points his cane toward the west.

“It must be peaceful living up here,” I mumble more to myself than to him.

He smiles. “Others call it lonely and crazy, given my age, but yes, you could call it peaceful too.”

“I’d like to live in a place like this.”

As soon as the words slip out of my mouth, I realize I just left a place like this. Raphael’s house is not so different from this church. It’s on the top of a hill with acres of vineyards and olive trees surrounding it. It’s true, there’s a lot of staff coming and going, but the place is mostly peaceful.

“Don’t you like where you live?” His question is harmless, but I know his intention is not small talk.

He’s probably wondering why a woman needs to sleep on a wooden bench in his sacristy and is nudging for answers. He’s a priest, not an idiot. He knows people don’t run away for no reason, especially with no money, phone, or any kind of baggage.

“Yes, I like where I live,” I admit.

“So, why are you running away?”

I think about it. There are a million reasons why I don’t want to stay in that house, and not one of them makes sense right now.

“Sometimes things get overwhelming, and you just need to disappear,” I murmur.

He doesn’t stop or look at me. He just nods and proceeds along the small path that leads into the taller shrubs. The silence goes on for so long that I think that he’s completely forgotten about our conversation until he speaks again.

“Disappear or just take some time alone to think?”

I wish it was just a matter of thinking my way to a solution. This situation is so tangled it’s no longer in my power to fix it. The only thing that would actually help everyone would be taking me out of the equation. Leaving Los Angeles is something I can control and would at least keep Raphael safe. I don’t know if it would help my parents, but I refuse to drag yet another person I care about into this mess.

“Thinking will not solve the problem. Relocating far from Los Angeles will be more effective.”

He nods again and takes his time to weigh my words or weigh his. I’ve known him less than twelve hours, but he strikes me as someone who thinks carefully before saying anything.

“And what about people you leave here in Los Angeles?”

“What about them?”

“Would they be happy if you…relocate?” For the first time he glances at me and there is some worry in his eyes.

“They’ll be fine. Maybe a bit sad at first, but they’ll understand I did it for them.”

He stops, surprising me, and turns completely toward me to look into my eyes with his pale blue irises. I’m pretty sure he’s staring straight into my soul and sees all my sins.

“Are you certain that taking away their freedom of choice is best for them? Or is it best for you?” His calm demeanor does nothing to soften the punch in the gut that his words deliver.

“What if they don’t understand the danger?” I ask.

“What if they do and decide that you’re worth the risk?”

I open my mouth to find a response, but nothing comes out. People often say, “I would die for you.” It’s a powerful thought, but when it comes to actually facing the possibility of dying for someone else, you realize how stupid that idea is. What happens when you die for someone? What good is it to leave the other person dealing with the consequences of your actions? Is it a blessing or a curse to survive the person you love? The decision to die for someone else affects both lives, not just the one who sacrifices theirs.

The priest resumes his walk, and I follow with more questions in my head than before.

“If you decide the best choice is to find a new life far from Los Angeles, I can ask around for help,” he suggests after a long silence.

“Thank you for your help, but I don’t have money. I can’t pay to leave here.” Also one of the reasons why I’m still stuck at this church.

“Money. Money. You all think about money, but what if people do good things out of generosity?”