Mystic Park (Finding Home 4)

“What’s troubling you?” Darius held Alonzo’s gaze as though the newsman could read his mind.

Alonzo drew a deep breath, exhaled, and filled his lungs again. “I don’t think I’m good enough for Doreen.”

Darius didn’t answer right away. Alonzo struggled to remain still under the other man’s steady scrutiny. “When did you decide that?”

He’d expected Darius to ask why he felt he wasn’t good enough for Doreen. The former reporter’s question caught him off guard. “It was after we started planning the wedding. Doreen said she wasn’t going to wear white, of course, because ours will be her second marriage. I started thinking about the things I’ve done as a law enforcement officer.”

“You think you’re not good enough for Doreen because you’re in law enforcement?”

“I did some things while I was a metropolitan police officer.” The words burned his throat like acid and stirred memories he prayed every night to forget.

“Have you spoken with Doreen?”

“No.” Alonzo answered even before Darius had finished asking.

“I didn’t think so.” Darius leaned into his desk, holding Alonzo’s gaze. “I have no idea what you’ve been through or what you’re going through now. I don’t know the man you were. But I’m proud to call the man you are a friend. And I know that man makes Doreen happy.”

It would be so easy to accept Darius’s words. “But as you said, you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Alonzo, whatever’s weighing on your mind may need more than a friendly conversation.” Darius searched Alonzo’s expression. “Have you considered speaking with a priest?”

The idea of taking his demons to the church turned his blood cold. But perhaps Darius had a point. Wasn’t he looking for absolution? Would the church grant it to someone with his past? He had to find the courage to try. It was his only hope of finding happiness with Doreen.

Alonzo stood. “I think I do need some sort of spiritual counsel.”

Darius rose also. “You should also speak with Doreen. She’s the only one who can tell you whether you’re good enough to be a part of her life.”

“You’re both basing your judgments on who you think I am.” It tormented him that he didn’t have the courage to tell them the truth.

Darius spread his arms. “Alonzo, we can only measure the person you allow us to see. And that person is a good and generous friend.” A grin flashed across his face. “And perhaps a talented actor.”

Alonzo was surprised he could smile. “I’ll take your advice about speaking with my priest.”

He shook Darius’s hand before leaving. Absolution wasn’t supposed to be easy. Wasn’t the pain part of the penance? He’d find the strength to get through it as long as in the end, he could be with Doreen.

“Good morning, Father. Thanks for meeting with me.” Alonzo shook Father Steven Meadows’s hand Saturday. The priest had the callous, rough palm of a hardworking man.

Father Steven had been assigned to their parish about five years earlier, a year before Alonzo had returned to Trinity Falls. He was of average height with a wiry build. His full head of hair was salt-and-pepper gray. But his smooth nutmeg skin and quiet energy made it difficult to pinpoint his age.

“Of course, Sheriff.” Father Steven led Alonzo to the two blue-cushioned armchairs in a corner of his spacious rectory. “How are your wedding plans coming?”

“Fine, Father.” Alonzo took the seat the priest gestured toward. It was a comfortable chair, but he was too tense to relax. “Benita’s worked miracles getting everything ready in such a short time.”

“Today is May sixteenth.” Father Steven settled onto the other chair. “Your wedding is exactly five weeks from today.”

Alonzo inclined his head. “Everything’s in place. Our last critical task was identifying groomsmen and bridesmaids.”

“Who are they?”

“Juan, Jack, and Darius agreed to stand with me. Megan, Ramona, and Audra will be Doreen’s bridesmaids.”

“Excellent choices.” Father Steven nodded. Curiosity gleamed in the older man’s dark brown eyes even as he waited patiently for Alonzo to speak his mind. But Alonzo felt a need to stall.

He broke eye contact and looked around the large room with its beige carpeting. Paintings and posters dressed the off-white walls with images of religious figures praying, walking, or offering comfort. The vivid artwork added color to the otherwise monochromatic space. A wall of bookshelves lined o

ne side of the room, stacked with theological and philosophical texts, including Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s A Knock at Midnight. On the other side, a rectangular maple wood conference table stood surrounded by six matching chairs. In its center, a thick white candle sat on a green doily.

Alonzo returned his attention to the patient priest. “I need your advice, Father.”