As Joan ascended the steps of the church, she glanced up at the stained glass windows. None of the lights seemed to be on, which was rather odd. Did Father Ben cancel confession? Would she even be able to get into the building? Or were all of the doors locked? She grabbed the thick brass handle of the main entrance and pulled. As the heavy wooden door creaked open, Joan peeked inside. She did not see anyone. But she thought she had better go check the confessional just in case.
Her footsteps echoed through the dark empty church as she approached the dark wooden booth. She knocked on the door of the priest's compartment and waited a moment. But there was no answer. If there's no one here, than why are the doors unlocked, Joan wondered. The place was dead quiet.
However, a haunting call from behind abruptly broke the silence. Joan reflexively spun around and looked up. Up above in the balcony, perched on top of the pipe organ, was the unmistakable figure of an owl. It stared down at Joan with its big round eyes. Then it loudly shrieked at her. Joan was so startled and shaken, she had to grab onto the back of a pew to steady herself. How on earth did an owl find its was into the church?
The owl unfolded its wings and spread them out to their full span. And then, with a slight hop, it descended from its perch on the top of the pipe organ. It swooped down and flew right toward Joan.
Joan let out a frightened yelp and immediately dropped down into a low squat. She tucked her chin into her chest and curled herself up into a ball. She held her hands protectively over her head. The owl flew above her, coming within a few inches of the terrified teenager. It passed over her with a giant swoosh. The gust it created tousled the hair at the nape of her next.
Completely rattled, Joan raised her head and cautiously looked behind her. The owl landed on the crucifix, which was mounted on the wall behind the altar. As the bird of prey perched itself on top of Jesus, it hooted loudly and closed its wings. It took a seat surrounded by the crown of thorns. It appeared to be making itself comfortable, nestling on top of Christ's head.
What on earth was going on? The previous evening, she had been startled by a crow on the rectory's veranda. Then she was aggressively chased by a menacing goat in her nightmare. And now an owl had almost flown into her head. Joan had never exactly been an animal lover before. And these recent incidents were certainly not doing anything to change that.
She decided to get out of the church before the owl could make a second attempt at attacking her. So she quickly ran down the center aisle and dashed through a door that led behind the altar. She shut it firmly behind her so that the owl could not get in.
She was now in a vestibule where the priest and altar boys usually prepared for mass. She walked across the room and passed through another door, which led outside into the rear courtyard. Off to the right of the churchyard was a small chapel, usually used for baptisms. And to the left hand side were the graves of some of the deceased priests and deacons, who had previously served at the church.
Joan knew better than to be afraid of grave sites and cemeteries. Once people were dead, they could not hurt you. And besides, she had a killer owl after her. That was much more threatening than some old bones rotting six feet below the ground. But still, Joan had never before been in the churchyard at night. The faint moonlight cast irregular shadows onto the grass and stone walls. There were weird rustling noises coming from the bushes in the garden. The evening breeze felt much cooler than it should have been, considering that it was mid-June. Straight ahead was the back of the rectory. Joan hurried toward it, climbed up the steps of the back porch and knocked on the door.
A few moments later, the back entrance swung open. But it was not Father Ben who greeted her. Instead, Joan was facing a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. She was dressed in tight jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. Her long thick wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was rather slender, quite tall, noticeably pale and very beautiful. As she smiled at Joan, the woman's green eyes seemed to sparkle.
"Yes, can I help you?" Her confident voice was slightly throaty.
"Um, I'm looking for Father Ben." Joan tried her best to mask her surprise and confusion. Who on earth was this woman? Father Ben's sister maybe?
"He just stepped out for a few minutes. But he should be back soon. Are you here for confession?"
"Um ... no. Well ... maybe. Sort of. But ... not exactly," Joan stammered. It was absolutely none of this woman's business why Joan was at the rectory. "I just really need to speak with Father Ben."
The woman smiled. "Sure, no problem! I'm sure he'll be back any minute now. He just went out to get us another bottle of wine."
Another bottle of wine? Joan tried her best not to frown. But she could not help but notice that Father Ben's visitor appeared to be without a bra. As the unseasonably cool breeze blew through the churchyard, the woman's nipples stiffened under the fabric of her t-shirt.
"Aren't you cold?" Joan asked.
"Nope," Father Ben's guest replied simply. Then she stepped back and held the door open. "Would you like to wait for Benny inside?"
Benny?
"Uh ... yeah ... sure," Joan mumbled as she walked through the back door of the rectory.
"The living room is right through here," the woman said, leading the way.
"I know," Joan said a little more sharply than she had intended. "I work here."
"Oh, do you? Is that why you're here now? It seems kind of late to be starting work."
"No, I'm not scheduled to work this evening. I just need to talk with Father Ben. That's all."
"Oh?" The woman plopped down on the couch in the living room. She folded her long lean legs under her. Her feet were bare. Her toenails were painted burgundy. She picked up a glass from the coffee table, which was about a third full. "In need of a little spiritual advice? Looking for some of Father Ben's experienced and wise guidance?" She winked at Joan as she took a sip of wine.
"What?" Joan took a seat in an arm chair on the other side of the coffee table. "I don't know," she shrugged. "Something like that. It's ... it's between me and Father Ben."
"Sure, I understand." The woman put her glass back down. With both of her hands free, she leisurely ran her fingers through her lustrous mane. She collected all of her tresses together and placed them over her right shoulder. She stroked her hair and smoothed it down over her breast.
As Joan watched the woman, she suddenly began to feel rather self-conscious about her own plain brown bob. As she noted the woman's tight pants and clingy t-shirt, Joan could not help but regret the long skirt and baggy sweater she had chosen to wear. The reason for her visit was to apologize to Father Ben for her inappropriate and forward behavior. So she had made sure to dress modestly. But comparing herself to the woman sitting across from her, she just felt frumpy.
"You said Father Ben will be back soon?" Joan asked.
As if on cue, the front door of the rectory opened.
"Speak of the devil," the woman chuckled. "There's Benny now. Hey Benny!" the woman called out. "You have a visitor."
Father Ben came strolling into the living room carrying a canvas shopping bag.
"Joan, what a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to talk to you about something, Father."
"Oh? You're still not thinking about quitting, are you? Remember our deal, Joan. You agreed to work here until Father O'Connor gets out of the hospital."
"Um ... no, it's not about that. I ... uh ... I'm sorry. I didn't know that someone else was going to be here." Irritated, Joan looked across at the woman lounging on the couch.
"Oh, you mean Lil?" Father Ben gestured at his guest. He placed the shopping bag down on the coffee table and sat down on the couch next to the woman. "Have the two of you not introduced yourselves?"
