He decided not to tell her about the post office box he’d rented when he joined the Brothers of the Eleventh Hour. The box provided a slender barrier between his location and anyone who wanted to find him. His email to her revealed he was in Wisconsin and would be most happy to meet her in Eau Claire, an hour’s drive from St. Paul. He said nothing of his whereabouts. Better to retain his locational anonymity, even from Cari.

Her response was swift and altogether typical of the woman he remembered.

From: Cari Lang carefreecari@gmail.com

Tue., June 19, 2012, 8:31 p.m.

Subject: You

My, but aren’t you the mystery man? No address, not even a post office box? Meet in Eau Claire? What’s going on? I still have no idea where you are. This is Cari on this end, Jason, not the FBI. Why all the cloak and dagger? You’ve sent my curiosity meter into the stratosphere. Can’t wait to see you again and maybe drag more information from you. I happen to know a neat little place in Eau Claire, the Acoustic Café. Would next Saturday work for you? Say, eleven o’clock? In case you want to call, my number is 612-555-8819. Love,

Cari

Did he want to see her? A question tantamount to asking if he wanted to breathe. But should he? There was no practical, legal, or moral reason not to. She was single and he was no longer an active priest. According to the precepts of the Church, his ordination might not have been valid, or because he had never received formal dispensation from his vows, maybe he still was a priest. One thing certain, under the criminal code of the land, he was a felon. An unprosecuted felon, but a felon, nonetheless.

Cari knew what he had done. Did this after-the-fact knowledge make her complicit? Would such complicity create danger for her in any way, psychologically if not physically or legally? She had her life in order. She seemed happy. To do anything to jeopardize her happiness would be selfish and irresponsible.

Yes, she knew his history and had forgiven him. Or so she said. Then again, she didn’t know specifically what had motivated his actions.

Did her knowledge of his past have anything to do with her finding him after so long? Had her new environment at a religious school somehow rattled her conscience? Something told him to stay alert.

St. Paul straddled a north-flowing hump in the Mississippi River some three hours from Landover by interstate—not exactly a trip across town. Even seeing Cari in Eau Claire meant a two-hour drive and would take a modicum of planning.

He agreed by email to her suggestion to meet for lunch in Eau Claire.

The days dragged by. The thought of seeing her destroyed his concentration. He didn’t call her because he had no idea what he would say. Was he eager to see her? Yes. Anxious? Yes. How could that be? Aren’t eagerness and anxiety two entirely different emotions, one positive, one negative? He compromised by settling on the word anticipation. He wouldn’t take the chance that hearing her voice on the phone might diminish that anticipation.

In the meantime, he would imagine both her face and her voice. And her body. The mere thought of her body conjured up her scent and, more agonizing still, her touch. He wondered if she had kept her figure. Her full though not overly large breasts and long slender legs had taken his breath away when he was a teen. His mental image of them now had the same effect.

He hacked away at his beard with a pair of scissors before using a trimmer to reach stubble stage. Then he dug out an old Gillette razor and lathered his face with soap. His whiskers did not go quietly into the drain, nor did his skin befriend the razor. When he finished, shorn like a spring lamb for the first time in over four years, his skin felt smooth and tingly and a little raw when he ran his hand over it. Aftershave from a bottle of Old Spice he discovered hidden away in a drawer burned when he slapped it on.

Brother Timothy joined him in the dining room as Jason lingered over a cup of coffee and the Landover Daily Chronicle, a newspaper that took all of ten minutes to read.

“You’ve gone facially commando.”

“‘Everything in its season,’ Timothy, as you are fond of saying.”

“A profound thought profoundly phrased. Any good news?”

Jocularity aside, the man was even more genuine than Jason had surmised the first time they’d met five years ago.

“Seems the bad guys get a lot of ink.”

“Always,” Timothy said with a laugh. “Keeps us employed.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing so much of the news is bad. Means the bad stuff is newsworthy because it’s out of the ordinary. Let’s hope the balance never changes.”

“That’s either optimism or thinking outside the cell.”

“Maybe both?”

Timothy sipped his coffee. “Saved any worms lately?”

Jason smiled at Timothy’s allusion to Jason’s habit of picking up earthworms from the sidewalk and throwing them into the grass on his morning walks. “I want them to live. They have such a short time.”

“Like the rest of us. By the way, speaking of death, how’s your car doing? Had it checked out yet?”

“Still on the to-do list. Sometimes it’s fine, then gets grumpy for no reason. As if something is clogged. Could be the transmission.”

“That Ford’s not exactly a toddler.”

“Ha! Just became a teenager, in fact.”

“I keep waiting for your call for me to come rescue you. Of course, it’ll happen in the dark of night during a monsoon.” Timothy fiddled with his coffee cup. “Anything going on, Jason?”

Jason gave the smiling rotund man across the table a questioning look, but said nothing.

“Aside from the spring in your step, you’ve been preoccupied lately. Am I being nosey?”

“We know each other too well for that, Timothy. Someone I knew a long time ago recently got in touch. A pleasant surprise.”

A broad smile spread across Timothy’s face. “What’s her name?”

Jason couldn’t suppress his own smile. “You’re right, it’s a woman. A childhood friend.”

“Keep me in the loop if you’re going to vacate, my friend.” Timothy pushed back from the table and winked as he arose. “I have a couple calls to make. See you later. By the way, you look five years younger, maybe ten. Maybe I’ll shave mine off.” He chuckled and turned away. “Of course, I’d also have to lose fifty pounds.”

Leave the Brothers? A new factor in a complex equation. The only reason he would consider leaving the Brothers would be to move near Cari. Move in with her? A thought so far ahead of the curve that it hadn’t materialized as a fully formed idea. A titillating, disturbing thought, not one he could yet entertain.

He folded the newspaper, deposited his empty cup in the used dishwasher a local appliance store had donated to the Brothers, and headed for the door. He noticed that Timothy was right about the spring in his step, a physical manifestation of his desire to see Cari despite a lingering wariness he couldn’t quite pin down.

Next Chapter: Chapter Five