Woman of God by James Patterson & Maxine Paetro

Author:James Patterson & Maxine Paetro [Patterson, James & Paetro, Maxine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Adult, Religion, Contemporary, Historical, Thriller
ISBN: 9780316274029
Amazon: 031627402X
Barnesnoble: 031627402X
Goodreads: 28664911
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2016-09-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 68

I WAS sitting in the front pew and was deep in prayer when a door slammed behind me. A priest came into the nave wearing jeans and a black shirt with a priest’s collar. He was saying into his phone, “Let him know James Aubrey called. Thanks.”

Then he saw me and said, “Oh. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt your prayers.”

“Not a problem,” I said. “I was nattering. God has heard it all before.”

He gave me a big smile and said, “That’s funny.”

The priest was probably in his early thirties. He had a round face, sandy hair, and beautiful blue eyes. Despite the smile, his eyes were sad.

“I’m Father Aubrey,” he said. “James.”

He reached out his hand and I did the same, and we shook.

“Brigid Fitzgerald.”

“Nice to meet you, Brigid. You’re new to the neighborhood?”

“Not exactly. When I was a kid, my mom and I used to sit right here every Sunday.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then said, “Forgive me for noticing, but you look a little lost, Brigid. No judgment. Just, do you want to talk?”

He was a pretty good read. I’d lost my loved ones as well as my father, my father’s entire family, my trust in my mother, and pretty much my identity from the time I was able to say “da-da.” Did I want to talk?

Apparently I did.

“I’m, uh, in mourning. I just lost my husband and baby girl in a terrible accident. I feel kind of dead myself.”

James Aubrey told me that he was very sorry, then sat in the pew across from me and asked questions. I told him a little of the story, but it was hard to talk about Karl’s and Tre’s deaths without melting right down.

I switched the subject, telling him that I’d just come back from Jerusalem and had been yards away when the bomb went off.

“I’m a doctor,” I said. “I tried to help. I couldn’t do anything. It was just a bloody nightmare of a disaster, and after that, I came here. I’m kind of a homing pigeon, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, Brigid. I can hardly imagine the horror you’ve been through.”

I nodded, but I didn’t want to talk anymore. My voice was splintered, and I thought I might just crack up entirely if I kept talking. I managed to say, “I have to go find a place to stay. I’ll be back another time.”

James Aubrey said, “Good. I’m almost always here. God be with you, Brigid.”

Sometimes He was. Sometimes I carried on, on my own.

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