Page 21 of Crossed

The double front doors have intricate carvings, large crosses smack- dab in the center, and when we open them and step inside, the heat blasts against my face, making the tips of my ears burn from the change in temperature.

I pull off my gloves slowly as I glance around.

It’s a comfortable cabin with deep cream couches in the small, quaint living room, a wood fireplace crackling in the corner and a Bible on the end table next to a reading chair with a plaid throw. There’s a small sanctuary off to the left with three rows of old wooden pews and a staircase directly in front of us that I assume leads to the bedrooms.

“Sister Genevieve will be around here somewhere,” Jeremiah murmurs as he walks farther into the room.

There’s a creak of wood and then a woman appears from around the corner, dressed in a simple black habit.

“Here she is.” Jeremiah grins.

She’s different than I expected.

Her eyes are striking, a bright green that accents the deep bronze of her skin, spearing wherever she gazes, and she’s much younger than I pictured, although the lines around her face carve out a story of a rough life. She’s small in stature, but there’s an energy that whips around her, one that tells me there’s darkness within her just as there is within me.

I imagine she locks away her demons, whereas I let mine out to play.

And those eyes…there’s something almost haunting about them. Like déjà vu or a memory that I can’t quite grasp.

“You must be Father Frédéric,” she says with a small tilt of her lips.

“Father Cade is fine.” I incline my head. “Sister Genevieve, I’m guessing?”

“That’s right,” she replies. “Please, both of you come inside and get warm.”

She whisks us away quickly, leading us to the small living area and then disappearing into the kitchen.

The warmth of the wood fire is strong against my side as I settle into the couch and wait. Jeremiah sits across from me, his ankle crossed over the opposite knee while he lounges comfortably as though he’s been here a thousand times. Maybe he has.

Before long, Sister Genevieve is back, setting down a tray of small pastries before perching on the reading chair next to the fire. “Sorry I don’t have anything better to offer. I didn’t know you’d be making the trip.”

“We won’t keep you,” I promise. “Just making the rounds. You know how it goes.”

“Hmm,” she hums.

“How long have you lived here?”

“A few years,” she replies. “I was in a novitiate here with Sister Anna.”

I lift my brows. “Novitiate? You’re still in training?”

It surprises me because she seems practiced, refined in a way that newer nuns normally aren’t. And she’s a little older than most of the novitiates I’ve seen. Usually, they take their vows young.

I can’t help but wonder what type of life she must have lived before and what turned her toward Christ.

She shakes her head. “Not anymore. I took my final vows last year shortly after Anna passed.”

I nod slowly, cataloging the way her body shifts uncomfortably, tightening with each of my questions. She’s on guard, and I want to know why.

Unfortunately, I don’t find out. While we do speak for a few more minutes, we’re simply filling the air with inane chatter, and I couldn’t tell you what was said. I’m too busy watching her body cues. The way her eyes flick behind us to the staircase like she can’t wait to be done entertaining our presence and how every so often, her fingers twine together and squeeze, blanching her skin.

Normally, it would draw my attention to the point of me not being able to focus on anything else. But even now, even when I’m here, my mind drifts to a sinful woman who’s entirely out-of- bounds and definitely someone I shouldn’t be thinking of at all. The same way she’s been filtering into my thoughts since the moment I met her. The urge to go to where she lives and perch outside her window just to sate thisneedis strong.

“Are we interrupting something, Sister?” I finally ask, unable to take the tension wringing her body tight.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to having people here. I like my solitude. Guests make me nervous.”

I nod and stand, gesturing for Jeremiah to do the same. “Then by all means, let us get out of your way.”