I noticed that though he stood, Noah didn’t say Amen.
“Peace be with you.”
“And also with you.”
While Father Connolly went through the Penitential Act, I was attuned to Noah. Something about him being here enthralled me. He seemed well-acquainted with the proceedings, even though he never fully participated and didn’t take part in any of the collective responses. It made sense since he told me he’d once been religious but since lost his faith. When it came time for Holy Communion, I turned to Sylvia and asked if she wanted me to bring her up.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, placing her hand on mine gratefully. Noah made a quiet scoff as he leaned forward to eye his mother. “Seriously?”
His tone was cynical, but Sylvia refused to meet his gaze or respond. He sat back, shaking his head. I frowned at him, not understanding his reaction. Sylvia often took Holy Communion when she came to mass with me.
I stood and wheeled her into the queue of people. When we returned, Noah was still seated in the pew, like a dark, fallen angel who’d come back to a place he’d once called home but no longer belonged.
I settled Sylvia back in her spot then knelt and clasped my hands together, lowering my head in prayer. I sensed Noah’s attention, and out the corner of my eye I saw him lean forward to study me.
He seemed extra intrigued by what I was doing. His keen focus lingered on the back of my neck, causing tiny hairs to rise in awareness. Then there was the whoosh of his clothing as he flopped back, exhaling a heavy breath.
“You kill me, Estella.”
His words were barely audible, and I didn’t know what they meant. Probably something to do with my kneeling down to pray. It wasn’t an unusual thing, but he seemed to find it riveting. His voice echoed in my head, making it difficult to focus or even remember what or who I had intended to pray for.
Noah’s presence had every part of me on edge. I felt his fascination almost as though he was channelling it to me from where he sat. He was probably just intrigued by someone as young as me being so devoted to God, never mind attending mass. He’d said something to that effect before. And it was true that there were less and less young people in the church these days, but we weren’t non-existent. There were still plenty of people my age who came here every week, though I wasn’t entirely sure if it was their own choice like it was mine, or if their parents encouraged them to come.
I had no one to encourage me, but if I didn’t have my faith, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. Maybe I’d succumb to the low moments of depression that often came over me. Maybe I’d let those low moments pull me down completely. I shuddered at the thought.
“I thought prayer was supposed to make you peaceful,” Noah whispered in the quietest voice. “You just shuddered. I hope God didn’t give you a bad omen.”
I opened my eyes a moment, casting him a censorious look. His gaze drifted over my face then lowered to my chest. My cross seemed to snag his attention again, and his eyes heated. That same heat slithered along my sternum as I turned back to face the altar. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. It was useless though. Noah’s presence frazzled me too much. There was no point trying to pray with him watching me so closely.
I rose up and sat back in the pew. Father Connolly ended the mass, and I stood to wheel Sylvia out. Noah walked on my left, and even though he was silent he was impossible to ignore.
“That was interesting,” Noah said, breaking the quiet.
“It was just mass,” I said, trying to ignore the shivers his deep voice solicited.
“Most people zone out, but you were really into it,” he went on.
“It would be a waste of time to attend and not be …” I paused as I glanced at him briefly, “into it, as you say.”
“Not necessarily. I’m sure half the people there go just to be seen as pious,” he said, darting a look at the back of Sylvia’s head.
“That’s a very cynical view,” I replied.
He smirked. “Call me a cynic then.”
We reached the house, and I brought Sylvia to her room. Irene had just arrived, ready to go through her night-time routine. I went into the kitchen to grab a small bite to eat. Noah was already there, drinking a cup of tea. I gave a small nod and went to open the fridge. I scanned the lacklustre options, my back to him as I said, “I’d like it if you didn’t collect me from school anymore.”
I tensed for his response, hearing him set his cup down. “Why not?”