Emelia rolled her eyes. “I’m not blind, Aiden. I saw the exchange between you and Sarah.”
He held her gaze before he looked off into the distance and let out a heavy sigh. “There’s nothing going on.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to disagree, and she probably would have if she hadn’t seen the anguish on his face. So instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. “I’m here for you if you ever need to talk…or anything. Please don’t forget that.”
His arms eventually came around her and, as he kissed the top of her head, he whispered, “I won’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dante waited in the reception room, just outside of the bishop’s office. Father David Thompson, the bishop’s right hand man, glared at him from behind his wire-rimmed frames.
For some reason, Fr. David had taken an instant dislike to him many years ago, and although he would always be cordial, he would never be welcoming. He would make Dante feel like being in his presence was a chore.
Dante had never done or said anything to him to make him act the way that he did. Fr. David’s attitude had puzzled him for some time.
He tried to clear his mind and looked around the room he was in, but wished he hadn’t when his eyes landed on a picture of the Pope. That was all he needed when he’d come to break his vows of ordination.
The nerves that had been with him since he’d put Emelia on a flight to Montana had now settled into the pit of his stomach like a rock.
If was the love of Emelia that kept him grounded and in his seat while his palms dampened with stress, and his heart thumped against his breastbone.
He’d bought her a present when he’d first arrived in Denver to meet with the bishop, and even though he knew her as well as he did himself, he felt unsure as to giving her the gift. At least, until their lives had been sorted—more so his life.
And then when Fr. David announced, “The Most Reverend Colin Sommer is ready for you,” Dante’s heart nearly stopped before it picked up its beating again.
Dante rose and ignored Fr. David as he walked into the office knowing his life was about to change, he just hoped that the disappointment he knew the bishop would feel didn’t hurt too deeply. He was sure the bishop would conceive it as betrayal.
Walking into the office, he greeted the bishop with a dip of his head and placed a kiss to the sacred ring before he was waved into a chair opposite his desk.
The office was as old as the cathedral itself, and spanned over a hundred years. The room had always been dark, just like it was now with the dark green walls and dark mahogany wooden coving. The curtains were half pulled over the windows, which cut off a lot of the light.
As he sat in silence and waited for the bishop to start the conversation, Dante smiled at how neat as a pin the bishop was. Dante had often wondered how the bishop stayed crease free. Not one wrinkle could be found on the bishop’s black cassock that was edged with red piping to match the buttons down the front, the red sash around his waist and, of course, the zucchetto. The red skullcap.
He looked just as Dante remembered from his time as a teenager back in Montana when he’d sneak in to see how long it would take the priests to find him. That was how he found Bishop Colin Sommer, although he hadn’t been a bishop back then. Eventually, he’d opened up about his mother’s death and that had begun a kind of friendship between them.
“You’re not happy,” the bishop started, and Dante snapped his eyes to him as he continued, “You haven’t been happy for a very long time. As much as I’ve tried to encourage you to open up to me like you would have done before you took your vows, you never have. So talk to me, Dante. Talk to me as Colin, your friend, and then, when you need me to, we’ll talk as your bishop.”
Dante had no idea what was going on because they’d always kept the respect of position between them.
“I’ve surprised you. I still have it at my age, huh?”
He laughed in relief and amusement. “You do, Bis…um, Colin.”
“That’s better. You’ve always been able to talk to me more easily as Colin than Bishop Colin, so talk to me, Dante, and let me help you.”
Dante sighed and looked through the crack in the curtains before he focused on Colin again. “I thought I knew what I wanted to say and how to say it…but, now that I’m sitting here facing you, I have no clue how to say what I need to when I know that you won’t be able to help me, even though I wish you could.”
“Dante, I’ve known you, what…about twenty-five years. A long time. Longer than I’ve known the majority of priests in this Diocese. Talk to me.”
Dante closed his eyes and centered himself before they snapped back open, and he admitted, “You’re right, I haven’t been happy in a very long time. More so recently. For a while now, I’ve wondered whether the decision I made to join the seminary was one that I shouldn’t have made.” He paused and gained encouragement at the nod that Colin offered.
So he continued, “Emelia isn’t my sister.”
“What?” Colin questioned, taken by surprise.
“I always thought that she was my half-sister, until recently, and there lies the problem.” He met Colin’s gaze. “I fell in love with Emelia years ago.”
He stayed silent to give Colin time to work out the timeline, and Colin’s eyes widened when it must have clicked. “You ran?”