her. She pulled in a shuddering breath but still felt as if she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. Her gaze darted around the room, but she couldn’t find the face she most wanted to see.
“Faith?”
Maddie’s voice was tentative, but Faith couldn’t stand there another minute. She might suffocate if she had to spend one more moment in this room with her sister.
She ran from the room and straight out the back door of the rectory. She hit the frigid November night and gasped, but welcomed the burning of her lungs as they finally filled. Not stopping long enough even to get her coat, she headed for home, running as fast as her legs would carry her away from the church and Michael.
Chapter Eight
Tuesday night Faith stood at the microphone, a guitar held in front of her. She looked out at the sparse weeknight crowd at the bar. She'd played there before. Too many times to count. The customers rocking the barstools were regulars who barely looked up from their beers as she played one of the songs she'd played at church Saturday evening.
It took great strength not to stop playing and sigh into the microphone. Her hands strummed the guitar strings, picking out the melody without thought. Her last words before leaving the church the other night had been ringing in her ears for days.
And the look on Michael's face.
Faith had been grateful she didn't carry a purse and instead had her house keys tucked in her front pants pocket when she made it home. She might have sat on her front stoop and froze to death otherwise. Cause there was no way she was going back to that church. Ever.
She got to the end of the song and there was a smattering of applause from the few who noticed she finished. She was supposed to play a couple more songs this set, but she was done. She leaned her guitar against the wall and dropped heavily onto a barstool.
"What's up, Faith?"
She managed to give the bartender a halfhearted smile. "Not too much. My heart just doesn't seem to be in it tonight."
Truer words were never spoken. Her heart hadn’t been in this scene for a while.
But here she was again, sitting on a barstool in a bar that had seen its best days decades ago. When she played here before, she hadn't been able to put her finger on exactly what was wrong. Saturday night reminded her of the fire she used to feel when she got up on stage.
Now that she knew what was missing, it was tough to go back to business as usual.
"I figured we might be seeing the last of you soon.”
Faith wrinkled her forehead. "What do you mean?"
"Could just tell things weren't the same for you as they used to be. Playing seems like more of a habit."
Wow. He hit the nail on the head. Who knew it was so obvious? Maybe Michael had seen it too and offered the gig at the church to be kind. Maybe he was never interested in her. Maybe she took his overtures of friendship and kindness the wrong way.
But that didn't explain the hurt on his face when she'd dropped her bombshell. There had to be more than simple kindness from the neighborhood priest involved.
With a sigh, Faith slid off the barstool. "You know what? I think you're right. I have some things to figure out. I'm gonna call it a night."
The night was cold and crisp and clear. Faith shivered a little in her thermal sweatshirt, the warmest article of clothing she could find in her closet since she left her coat behind. She walked home anyway, her guitar case swinging at her side and the twinkling of Christmas decorations in shop windows lighting her way.
Faith thought the huddled figure on her doorstep was one of the homeless women in the neighborhood until she got close to her apartment building.
"Mom?"
"Faith. Thank goodness. I thought I might freeze to death before you got home. Honestly, I don't know how you keep these hours."
Faith stifled a laugh. She'd left the gig a little early and it wasn't one that normally ran very late anyway.
“Faith?”
Maddie’s voice was tentative, but Faith couldn’t stand there another minute. She might suffocate if she had to spend one more moment in this room with her sister.
She ran from the room and straight out the back door of the rectory. She hit the frigid November night and gasped, but welcomed the burning of her lungs as they finally filled. Not stopping long enough even to get her coat, she headed for home, running as fast as her legs would carry her away from the church and Michael.
Chapter Eight
Tuesday night Faith stood at the microphone, a guitar held in front of her. She looked out at the sparse weeknight crowd at the bar. She'd played there before. Too many times to count. The customers rocking the barstools were regulars who barely looked up from their beers as she played one of the songs she'd played at church Saturday evening.
It took great strength not to stop playing and sigh into the microphone. Her hands strummed the guitar strings, picking out the melody without thought. Her last words before leaving the church the other night had been ringing in her ears for days.
And the look on Michael's face.
Faith had been grateful she didn't carry a purse and instead had her house keys tucked in her front pants pocket when she made it home. She might have sat on her front stoop and froze to death otherwise. Cause there was no way she was going back to that church. Ever.
She got to the end of the song and there was a smattering of applause from the few who noticed she finished. She was supposed to play a couple more songs this set, but she was done. She leaned her guitar against the wall and dropped heavily onto a barstool.
"What's up, Faith?"
She managed to give the bartender a halfhearted smile. "Not too much. My heart just doesn't seem to be in it tonight."
Truer words were never spoken. Her heart hadn’t been in this scene for a while.
But here she was again, sitting on a barstool in a bar that had seen its best days decades ago. When she played here before, she hadn't been able to put her finger on exactly what was wrong. Saturday night reminded her of the fire she used to feel when she got up on stage.
Now that she knew what was missing, it was tough to go back to business as usual.
"I figured we might be seeing the last of you soon.”
Faith wrinkled her forehead. "What do you mean?"
"Could just tell things weren't the same for you as they used to be. Playing seems like more of a habit."
Wow. He hit the nail on the head. Who knew it was so obvious? Maybe Michael had seen it too and offered the gig at the church to be kind. Maybe he was never interested in her. Maybe she took his overtures of friendship and kindness the wrong way.
But that didn't explain the hurt on his face when she'd dropped her bombshell. There had to be more than simple kindness from the neighborhood priest involved.
With a sigh, Faith slid off the barstool. "You know what? I think you're right. I have some things to figure out. I'm gonna call it a night."
The night was cold and crisp and clear. Faith shivered a little in her thermal sweatshirt, the warmest article of clothing she could find in her closet since she left her coat behind. She walked home anyway, her guitar case swinging at her side and the twinkling of Christmas decorations in shop windows lighting her way.
Faith thought the huddled figure on her doorstep was one of the homeless women in the neighborhood until she got close to her apartment building.
"Mom?"
"Faith. Thank goodness. I thought I might freeze to death before you got home. Honestly, I don't know how you keep these hours."
Faith stifled a laugh. She'd left the gig a little early and it wasn't one that normally ran very late anyway.
Similar Books
