Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(90)
The question is, what if it’s true? What if he’s leaving the priesthood and wants to find someone? What if he thinks he wants to be with me? What then? It’s not like I have other contenders…the pet psychic, the groin injury guy, the old men…and unforgiving, closed-off, angry Malone.
I rush outside and over to the rectory, bursting in on Mrs. Plutarski.
“Where is he?” I demand. “I know he’s here.”
“He’s very busy,” Mrs. P. answers. “What’s got into you?”
“Father Tim?” I call, sticking my head into his office. He’s not there. “Father Tim?” I shove my wet hair back from my face.
He comes into the common room, holding a cup of tea. “Ah, Maggie,” he says warmly. “Just the person I wanted to see.”
“Father Tim,” I say, grabbing his arm. “I need to speak with you. It’s an emergency.”
Mrs. P. sighs dramatically. “Another death in the family, Maggie? Your goldfish this time?”
“Bite me,” I tell her. Father Tim’s eyes widen as I tow him through the common room, into the kitchen. I don’t want Mrs. Plutarski to overhear us, and I know she’ll try.
“Here now, Maggie, maybe you should slow down. In fact, I was hoping to see you”
“Sit down,” I tell him. He obeys, and I take a seat opposite him at the small table. “I just spoke to Bishop Tranturo. About, you know…you.” My hands are shaking, the palms sweaty.
Father Tim’s face grows somber. “Did you, now? I was hoping to tell you myself.” He gives me a sad smile. “Maggie, you know I care”
“Wait!” I bark. “Please wait. Don’t say anything.” I take a deep breath, then another, as Father Tim looks at me, concerned and expectant. “Okay…um, Father Tim,” I say more gently. “Listen. You are a wonderful priest and the thing is, I understand that it’s not always easy for you, but…” I swallow. He waits patiently. “Listen, Father Tim, you’re a very nice, kind man. And of course I…you know. Care for you. But I think you’re making a mistake. You know, about leaving. You can’t just give this all up!”
Father Tim sighs and leans back in his chair. “I know, Maggie. It’s been wonderful. I’ve loved being pastor here, as you know. But change is going to come, whether we like it or not.”
I take another breath, my legs feeling weak and sick. “Does anyone else know aboutabout your, um, decision?”
“No, Maggie. I was planning to say something at Mass.” At Mass! My mouth falls open, but he continues. “Of course, the bishop knows, but that goes without saying.”
“Okay, okay, wait. I need to say this.” My hands are curled into fists. “We’re friends, you and I, aren’t we?”
“Of course, Maggie.”
“And I think you have a lot of nice qualities.” He blinks, ever patient. “Right. So. You know I had a killer crush on you.” He smilesis that a happy smile? Forgiving? Expectant?and I force myself to go on. “But, Father Tim, I don’t anymore. I just think you should know that. In case I was figuring into your decision in any way. Any way whatsoever.”
The smile falters, flickers, then dies completely. “I’m not clear on what you’re getting at, Maggie,” he says slowly. “Why would you figure into it?”
“Because of the thing with Father Shum, what’s that?”
He frowns, clearly puzzled. “Ah…well, why don’t you say what’s on your mind, Maggie?”
I bite my lip, wince, and go for it. “Um…I don’t want you to leave the priesthood because of me.”
Under other circumstances, Father Tim’s reaction would be funny. He lurches back in his seat, then staggers to his feet, grabbing the chair and putting it between us. “Dear Lord, Maggie! I’m not leaving the priesthood!”
“Oh, thank God!” A hysterical laugh escapes my lips. “Oh, thank God! Great! This is great news!”
“Howwhywhere on earth did you get an idea like that?”
“I…um…ah…” Breathe, Maggie, breathe. He’s not leaving the priesthood. “Well, Bishop Tranturo…he said you were leaving.”
“I’m being transferred to another parish.”
“Right. Oh, that is fantastic news.” I heave a sigh of relief, my head spinning. Father Tim cocks his head. “Okay. That makes a lot more sense.” I pause. “I guess I just thought that…well, you said a few things that I thought…I was afraid you had feelings for me, Father Tim.”
His eyes narrow, and he keeps a good grip on the chair, and he keeps that chair solidly between us. “Maggie,” he says, very, very carefully, “I think you’re a lovely person, but no. No feelings of a romantic sort. At all. Ever. I’d hope we’d stay friends after I leave, but of course, nothing else.”
“Well, that’s great. Sure. I just could’ve sworn…” My heart rate is returning to normal, and I take a deep breath. “I mean, I’m sorry that the parish is losing you, but Father Tim, what about Father Shea? I mean, you…you seemed kind of interested in him, and there were these things you said about me and being friends and…” My voice trails off.