Page 64 of For I Have Sinned

Clearing his throat, he puts more distance between us, and my shoulders sag. If he notices the disappointment written all over my face, he doesn’t show it.

“Go help Sister Greta,” he instructs. “I will see you tomorrow for Prayer.”

He begins to walk away, but I stop him by asking, “What? No nightly prayer?”

His shoulders tense, and he pivots his head to the side. “Not tonight, Celine.”

With that, he stalks away and leaves me outside the library.

Chapter 22

Father Alexander

I snuck out of Prayer for a little bit to speak with Sister Agnus. She said she wanted to see how my wounds were doing, but really, she just wanted to know if I inflicted any more pain on myself. Even though I wanted to discipline myself multiple times, I held back.

I’ve been good.

She was happy to learn that I stopped fighting with whatever was going on in my mind. I wish I could have told her that I’m still battling those demons, but that is my secret to keep. It seems that the secrets just keep piling on.

The secrecy of the thoughts I’ve been having about Celine, holding onto Father Keaton’s secret, and the fact that he has a gun in his desk. While I chalked it up to safety precautions, it still didn’t settle right in my stomach.

None of it does.

I’m still angry with Celine for breaking into his desk, and although finding the gun was a shock, what has been really swarming around my mind is still knowing that Father Keaton is sleeping with Joanna.

Ever since Celine told me what she witnessed in the dining hall, I’ve been watching Father Keaton and Joanna’s interactions very carefully. She stares at him more than he does her, but she is subtle about it. If I didn’t already know their secret, then I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

As I walk back to the chapel, I wonder if I’d feel the same if I told someone about the thoughts I had of Celine. If I got that off my chest, would I be able to breathe? The only person I could really tell is God, and that terrified me.

The other day in the chapel, after Celine ran out, I tried to pray to Him about my concerns. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it because I don’t want Him to hear the words come out of my mouth. It’s hard enough thinking that He is reading my mind and silently judging me from above.

Swallowing the thought, I walk into the chapel to hear Father Keaton continuing with his prayer. My eyes don’t stay on him for long before I scan them to the front row, and my chest deflates when I see only Joanna and Bekah sitting together.

My eyes trail the pews until they land on the brunette sitting in the last row. My heart begins beating hard in my chest at the sight of her, my lungs inflating again.

As if she senses me, her head turns, and she peers over her shoulder. A tiny smile tugs at my lips as I dip my head in acknowledgment before slipping into the confessional booth.

Sometimes when I need to clear my head, I sit inside the booth while everyone else is helping out in other parts of the convent. Sure, I could get some quiet in my office, but this is different. Being soundproof, it blocks out every noise. Plus, with how dim it is in here, it’s peaceful. A peace that I don’t think I could get anywhere else.

As I’m focusing on that peace, the door to the other side creaks open. I don’t even have to glance over to see who it is. Celine has this magnetism to her that pulls me in. I couldn’t escape it if I tried.

The silence sits between us for a while. I’m not sure if she’s waiting for me to speak first, but I do, only because I want to hear her voice.

“Hello, Celine.”

“Hello, Father Alexander,” she greets me sheepishly.

“Is there something troubling you?” I ask, hoping that she confesses to not following through on her word of keeping her hands off herself. Celine exhales, but doesn’t respond verbally. After another moment of silence, I add, “Are you here to confess something?”

“Do you have something to confess?” She turns the question on me, and it takes me by surprise.

Maybe she wants to know why I almost kissed her. Twice. Or perhaps she wants to know why I grew hard in the courtyard when I caught her talking on the phone. “Are you wanting me to confess to something?”

“Nothing in particular,” she says. “But do you ever confess to anyone else, or do you keep your confessions bottled up?”

“Sometimes I confess to Father Keaton, but⁠—”

“But what?”