“You were there.”
“So was Father Thomas.”
The priest.
An elderly man with gentle eyes and a trembling voice. He had stood beside Carl’s chair while I wore my plain white T-shirt. He had blessed the rings and told us that love sometimes entered a life briefly yet changed it forever.
“Father Thomas could barely walk,” I said.
“He is stronger than he appears.”
Daniel moved toward the window. Before he reached it, something struck the glass.
A stone.
It shattered the outer pane.
I ducked.
Daniel pulled me behind the stone fireplace.
Another stone flew through the window, wrapped in paper.
Then we heard an engine starting.
By the time Daniel looked outside, a dark vehicle was disappearing along the gravel road.
He retrieved the paper.
On it, in red ink, were five words:
LEAVE THE PAST BURIED, CLAIRE.
My knees weakened.
“They know I’m here.”
Daniel folded the message and placed it in his pocket.
