Read Online Red Rain: Lightning Strikes: Red Rain Series #2 by David Beers - Free Book Online Page A

left hand in front of him. “The peace of the Lord be with you always.” He moved the cracker toward John. “The body of Christ.”
    “The body of Christ,” John repeated, placing the cracker in his mouth.
    “The blood of Christ,” the priest said, moving the chalice to John’s lips.
    “The blood of Christ,” he whispered and then swallowed the wine.

    * * *
    J ohn felt an interest from the priest that he hadn’t felt with anyone in his life before. His mother cared, but to venture into what was wrong would unveil things she couldn’t handle. His father cared, but lived in a world where nothing could ever be wrong. Dr. Vondi? He had been a mistake.
    “What brought you in here?” he said a week after they first prayed together. They met in his office, John having asked before Mass if it would be possible to talk with him.
    “Today?” he said.
    “No, in general. What brought you to the church?”
    “I feel lost,” John said. He looked at the priest’s eyes, thinking that he had done something very similar with the psychologist ten years before. Vondi’s eyes hadn’t looked like these, though. His eyes had been curious, almost intensely so. The priest’s eyes were caring, a deep brown that seemed to plead with the world to give up its worries.
    Father Charles smiled. “We’ve all felt like that. I still do, quite often.”
    “Really?” John said.
    “Of course.”
    “When?”
    Again, when he would ask Vondi something like this, there would be a pause while the psychologist measured his words before speaking. The priest did nothing of the sort, but kept speaking as naturally as one might after a few drinks.
    “It’s kind of cliché, actually, but when I see massive suffering. I look at what’s going on in the Middle-East, both to Christians and non-Christians alike, and I wonder how God can let it happen. How He has let it happen for centuries.”
    “But you believe anyway?” John said.
    “Yes, always. He is there even if I can’t understand Him.”
    John was quiet for a few seconds, a question coming to him that seemed imperative to his survival. “Does He understand me?”
    The priest nodded. “He does. You’re His child. You don’t have children yet and I never will … at least, I hope I don’t … I wasn’t always chaste before I donned the collar,” the priest smiled. “Don’t let me get off on a tangent, John. We don’t have children so we can’t understand it, but one day you will be able to—on some level. My point is, that God understands us better than we understand ourselves, or anything else in this world.”
    “I’m not sure He can understand me,” John said. “I don’t understand me. I’m not sure anyone I’ve ever met understands me.”
    Father Charles smiled. “It can’t be as bad as all that. Tell me about some of it.”

    * * *
    J ohn tasted the wine , savoring it in his mouth for a second.
    He looked up to Father Charles who had tears in his eyes.
    “What’s wrong?” John said.
    “Nothing.” The priest turned and placed the chalice behind him. “Do you want to be forgiven for these sins, John? Truly?”
    “Yes.”
    “And do you truly want to stop, or is it something you tell me to help your conscience?”
    “I’ve always wanted to stop this. I hate everything about it. I hate myself for doing it.” John felt tears in his own eyes now, though he didn’t try to blink them away.
    The priest nodded, his back still to John.
    “Something isn’t right,” Harry called from the back. “Something is different here.”
    John didn’t need to turn around to know that Harry was on his feet, the stress in his voice filling the church.
    “Why did you call me here tonight, Father? Why tonight?”
    “Where were you when I called?”
    John paused. “Do you really want to know?”
    “Yes.”
    “I was outside someone’s house, ready to go in.”
    “Bless us Father,” the priest said, his head lowered.

    * * *
    “ A re you ready to take confession?”