Runaway (Wolfes of Manhattan 3)

A few gasps emanated from the pews.

“Derek’s mother scolded him and sent us both out of this very sanctuary with instructions to wait until mass was over and she’d deal with both of us. Of course, she wasn’t my mother, so I chose to run.

“Except I wasn’t fast enough for Derek Wolfe. Roy was right when he said his father was athletically gifted. He caught me and knocked my head into a wall until I saw stars. Then he forced me to walk back to the church and apologize to his mother when she emerged from mass.

“His parents took me home, fed me lunch, and then sent me home with a hundred-dollar bill and a bag full of groceries.

“So began a lifelong friendship.

“The Wolfes took me under their wing, and soon I was attending mass regularly. I attended Sunday school and received my first communion not long after. And I realized I’d found my calling. Someday, I told Derek, I’d become a priest.”

He laughed. “Of course the first thing Derek said to me upon that revelation was, ‘you’re going to give up girls?’”

Chuckles from the pews.

“Yes, laugh,” the priest said. “That’s another thing Derek taught me. To laugh. Derek laughed a lot, even with a scared little boy who’d tried to steal his mother’s purse.

“So when I answered his question and told him my calling was to God and not to girls, he laughed again. But then he said, ‘Jimmy, if you really want to be a priest, I’ll make sure you’re a priest.’

“And he did. He asked his parents to get me into a good school and pay the tuition. When it was time for seminary, Derek was already at Columbia and he paid my tuition and costs out of his own pocket.

“I married Derek and Connie, and I gave first communion to all the Wolfe children.

“To say I owe Derek everything is an understatement.

“Derek embodies the philosophy and lessons of our savior, Lord Jesus Christ.

“In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus, says, ‘Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.’

“Because of Derek Wolfe, I was filled, and now I laugh.

“Live each day the way Derek Wolfe lived. Share your treasures with others. Help those in need. And laugh.

“We may mourn the loss of Derek Wolfe. But I can guarantee you that he’s in a better place, and that he’s laughing.”

Silence, then, for what seemed like hours. Until finally the priest said, “Amen.” A pause, and then, “May the peace of the Lord be with you always.”

“And also with you,” the congregation murmured.

“Now let’s share that peace with each other the way Derek would want us to.” The priest left the altar and shook the hands of the people in the front row.

And damn.

There she is.

Riley Wolfe.

She was cloaked in black, but I’d recognize her perfection anywhere. She shook hands with the priest while gazing at her feet. Then she sat down once more.

In the meantime, the people in my pew were bustling, shaking hands, and hugging.

The gentleman next to me stuck his hand out. “Peace be with you,” he said gruffly.

“Peace to you as well.” I shook his hand and smiled.

He didn’t smile back.

Once everyone was done hugging and having sex in the aisle—okay, they weren’t having sex, but my God—the priest resumed his spot at the altar and began the sacrament of holy communion.

I didn’t participate. Not that I had anything against communion, but I didn’t want to parade in front of Riley right now. Yeah, I came here to see her, but she was in mourning. Showing up without any warning at all might upset her.

So I stayed in my pew while mourner after mourner stepped to the altar to receive their bread and wine.

Finally, after a prayer and more from the string quartet, the priest gave the blessing and benediction.

I rose and stretched my legs. Old wooden pews were anything but comfortable. I looked down at my feet as the family members passed by, walking down the aisle.

They’d no doubt form a receiving line, and I planned to wait until the end so as not to startle Riley.

More waiting.

I grabbed my phone back out of my pocket. I played more solitaire but had trouble concentrating as my heart was thudding against my sternum at a rapid pace.

Nervousness? More like anxious anticipation.

I couldn’t wait to see her.

I’d hold her in my arms, let her cry into my shoulder for as long as she needed to. I’d help her get through this.

That was what you did for the person you loved.

And God, I loved her.

I loved her so much.

The crowds finally dwindled, and I made my way out of the sanctuary. Three men and two women— including the man who’d read the eulogy—stood in a huddle.