Page 47 of Priestly Sins

When we get closer to her shop I say, “Now” over the Bluetooth connection, and we both turn into the Marriot parking garage and pull tickets. Spiraling upward, we go three levels, waiting on the black Tahoe.

I park and leave my car and walk to her Accord. “New cell phone in the console. I’m programmed in. Leave yours in the Honda. You’ll need to lead us out of here. Make sure you aren’t followed.”

She doesn’t question it and grabs her purse and heads to my Benz.

“Please, Sean,” she begs as she begins to close the door.

I reach up, cupping her face with my hand, my thumb stroking over the apple of her cheek. “Promise.”

Climbing in the Accord, I push the seat back to its full distance and adjust the mirror, pulling out and following Sirona.

We get to the street and Sirona turns left at the light while I go straight. The Tahoe is in my sight, and Sirona looks to be home free. But that means nothing to me. I follow her with my eyes as far as I can before heading to the Northshore. There’s nothing there, but I need some distance and to allow Clara to sleep as long as possible.

We drive until after the Tahoe has pulled into a gas station to refill and even longer until Clara stirs in the back seat. I pull over at a donut shop somewhere in Mandeville.

“Morning, beautiful girl.”

“Poppa?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Where’s Mommy?”

“She had an appointment this morning and said I could take you to school. Is that okay?”

She looks confused and I don’t like that one bit, but time to improvise.

“We didn’t get our cupcake last night. How do you feel about donuts?”

“I love donuts.”

No doubt. Apparently, she just loves sugar. It works for me today, so I go with it.

“What’s your favorite?”

“Pink ones!”

“Oh, I should’ve known. Let’s go get one.”

“Yay!”

That was easy.

I spend way too much time trying to figure out how to unbuckle a four-year-old from the harness contraption. She laughs at my attempt and gives good directions when she sees me struggle.

I can’t say we don’t get some looks. A priest in full blacks with a collar and four-year-old in pajamas holding hands should raise more than one red flag. The confusion is comical though, but Clara doesn’t catch on, so we get a forbidden donut and a kolache, one milk and one very large coffee and have our breakfasts.

“Anything special happening at school today?”

She shakes her head until her pigtails whip into her face and the sugar on her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

Well, there’s that. I pass her a change of clothes, an outfit she is none too happy with and shoo her to the restroom to change. She does, but notes her displeasure as she latches the door behind her.

When she emerges, I say, “Guessing we should go. We’re a little far away, since I wanted to come to a special place.”

She tilts her head in confusion but trusts me all the same. “Okay.”

We throw away our trash and proceed back to the Honda. She helps me rebuckle her multi-point harness. Car seat virgins shouldn’t be entrusted with this level of mechanics.