Test of Faith Part 2 The Inquisition

I suppose my relationship with Melody has progressed to the point where she’s taking me seriously—even snooping to see if I’m good husband material by looking down the road a piece—as she always does.

Believe me, you don’t want her in the co-pilot’s seat when you’re driving—and now she’s decided to take a closer look at my core beliefs to see if that might disqualify me as a future father of her children.

Oh, bother.

Regardless of my desires, here we are, standing outside the door of St. Angelus’ rectory waiting for good old Father Marcel to vet me.

Now I know what a worm feels like wriggling on a fishing hook.

I spot Norma, the old housekeeper, slowly making her way down the hall. Suddenly, an even darker suspicion hits me.

“Say, you didn’t tell him this was marriage preparation or something like that, did you?”

Her eyes flare. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jay Randall. I’m just getting you some help in the hope that Father Marcel may be able to straighten you out.”

“And save my soul from hell?” I hiss.

“Something like that,” she smiles sweetly as Norma opens the door.

“Ah, my favorite young couple! How nice to see you two. Father’s waiting in the study and I’ve put out some tea and hot cross buns.”

Seems appropriate, I mutter to myself, imagining Father Marcel prepared to grill me, and Melody assisting by heating up the branding iron.

A fire is laid in the den, and the room is cheerful. The old priest seems benign, reading in a sofa chair with Cecil, his baleful cat at his feet.

He rises as we come in and greets Melody with a warm hug and shakes my hand. “So nice to see you both—please take a seat.” He motions to two vacant wingback chairs.

“Thank you for taking the time from your busy weekend, Father.”

The priest waves off her concern.

“Oh, it’s not a burden but a pleasure—it’s only prudent to look ahead and remove any obstacles that might mar future plans. You know, it’s the little foxes that spoil the vines.”

I'm glowering at a certain little fox sitting demurely opposite me.

“So, Jay,” the Grand Inquisitor begins, “Melody tells me you’re dealing with some deep questions of faith. Feel free to ask any questions. I’ll try to help in any way I can.”

Melody has busied herself pouring tea into fragile china cups and pretends to be distracted, but I know she’s hanging on every word.

I’m already perspiring and simultaneously suffering brain freeze. I feel panicked as if parts of me are already burning.

I go blank, staring at his bloodless, aged lips.

He notes my anxiety and encourages me with a warm smile. “Just relax, Jay—this isn’t an inquisition—just a friendly conversation. Be yourself and feel free to open up with whatever concerns you.”

I nod and take a sip of tea. The liquid is warm and fragrant and helps soothe me.

Maybe if I’m frank with him, he’ll see I really am a pagan—totally unfit for Melody. In that case, he’ll probably release me and tell me never to return.

I see myself going out and wandering the dark alleys of the city.

Goodbye Melody—it was good knowing you…

Damn! Why do relationships have to be so hard?