Blue Flame by Alison Levy

Author:Alison Levy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SparkPress

25

HELPING HANDS

A text to Bach brought a reply with an address several miles away. Still fuming from his hand-to-ass encounter, Simon returned to his car, brought it roaring to life, and raced away from the curb.

Less than three minutes later, he pulled to a stop and double-checked the address Bach had sent him. This was the place. Simon wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The building was small, dwarfed by the apartment towers that framed it, but the scrawny steeple and crosses in the windows unmistakably marked its identity. Simon locked his car and stood by the damaged fountain out front, listening to the trickling water rolling over cracked concrete, as he stared up at the building. It was a church.

At the sight of it, the childhood wound on his soul reopened a bit and bled anger and resentment into him. In a flash, he reexperienced his father’s death, the priest saying he was in a better place, and the stab to his aching heart that followed. He had to drag himself all the way to the front door before he could shake off his disgust and enter with his shoulders back.

As he stepped inside, he found himself staring up the center aisle of the nave, rows of pews lining it on each side. The morning sun peeked through the windows at odd angles, creating a shadowed patchwork on the far walls. A faint floral scent dusted every surface; it stirred as Simon moved. The muffled sound of his shoes on the wood floor traveled farther than it should have in the stillness and the puff of air through his lips threatened to echo from the rafters.

Holding his breath, he glanced around and quickly spotted Bach in the very back row. He slid down the pew, sat next to him, and reclined in silence.

Bach sat with one hand on a stack of clothes—many of the same clothes Simon had helped him retrieve from his ex—and the other on the head of his dog, whose chin rested on his knee.

“Why’re you here?” Simon whispered.

“Waiting for someone,” he replied.

“Who? There’s nobody here.”

“It won’t be long.” Bach took a deep breath and leaned back in the pew. His eyes seemed to glow in the marbled shadows.

“There was someone I wanted to visit yesterday,” he told Simon, “but I didn’t know how to find him. Then, this morning, I knew. I knew who he was and where he would be. I just had to get there—here—first. He’ll be here soon.” Bach scratched the puppy’s ears, triggering a tail wag. “I was surprised to get your text,” he said, turning his eyes to Simon at last. “I had a hunch I’d hear from you soon, but I wasn’t expecting that text. It’s fun for me, you know.”

“What is?”

“Being surprised. Really surprised, I mean, the type of surprise that bowls you over. Doesn’t happen all that often.”

Simon nodded, mulling over the thought. Life without surprises. Sounded less fun … but also easier.

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