Page 43 of Priestly Sins

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. No real alternative for me.” Her eyes drop at that statement.

“Sirona?”

She lifts her eyes again.

“Are you in danger?”

A quiet nod greets me.

“What if I could help?”

“You can’t.” And with that, she goes back to her data entry.

I wait a minute or two before pressing, “What if I could?”

“I won’t burden you with my problems, but just to say, there’s not enough money or time to make that work.”

“Money or time,” I repeat aloud, mostly to myself and ponder options. “What about distance?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you left New Orleans…”

She shakes her head. “He’ll find me.” She makes eye contact and quietly adds, “Afraid I’m stuck, Sean.”

The sound of my name on her lips does it.

I move to the desk and lean over her, taking her mouth. Spearing my tongue between her lips, I feel her moan and I deepen the kiss. When I pull away, I brush her lips with mine.

“You’re not.” Another lip touch. “Trust me?”

She simply nods while keeping my eyes.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” I start to lay out the plan I’ve been considering for months.

When I’m done, she’s contemplative. Then her eyes roam, taking in her office. They look around to the shelves and stare off into the distance. It’s as if she’s seeing memories rather than objects. Finally, she simply nods and says, “Okay.”

I’m shocked she agrees but I’m elated too. I pull her from her chair and kiss her again, celebrating. Her replying smile is all I need.

I reach out my hand to hers and she takes it. I give her a few moments as she collects her thoughts and a few things to take home. Then we continue as we would any other night—me to the front door, where the bells ring as I leave—and where she locks up behind me. I take off for the Quarter. The Accord lights behind me tell me she’s still with me.

It’s the pair behind those that concern me.

We make it to her house and she locks the doors behind us. I’d love to say I take it all in, but I don’t.

“Need you to get together everything you may need or want. Everything else is details.”

She shuffles around, mostly in circles for a few minutes before I cut in.

“Sweetheart, need you to focus. Get what you need for Clara first. That’ll be easiest.” I sit at the kitchen table, grab my phone and set the plan in motion, buying tickets, shooting an email to Bobby about the car title and additional paperwork. “What’s your birthday?”

“Sean…?” It’s tremulous. Her lip quivers and her eyes brim with unshed tears. “This is foolish. I can’t explain but I’ll never be free.”

“Do you want to be?”

“What kind of question is that?” she spits back. Anger is good. I can work with anger.