“Good morning, Father Garrett,” I called.
His handsome figure had just stepped into the hallway from the teacher’s lounge. He was sipping his morning coffee. Father Garrett had dark brown hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that could charm anyone. The long black robe of the priesthood somehow added to his allure. I was on my way to his medieval literature class. It didn’t start for another thirty minutes, but I enjoyed studying in the room when he was there.
“Good morning, Zoe. May I walk with you to class? I wanted to speak with you about your last exam,” Father Garrett said as he waited for me.
“Sure. Did I do poorly?”
I hurried forward to walk beside him. He chuckled and shook his head, making me nervous. I had obviously screwed up and didn’t realize it.
“Your writing was brilliant as usual. I was impressed by it. You poetically reflected on the main topics like you understood them, but you didn’t explain Hugh’s interpretations as they were inspired by Augustine’s views. In other words, you failed to actually answer the questions. I wanted to review it with you before officially giving you your first C,” he whispered.
I grimaced and nodded. I had been overconfident all semester, and it was finally catching up with me. My cheeks were burning as Father Garrett smiled at my reaction. I usually loved it when he looked at me, but not at that moment.
“Don’t look so disappointed. It’s not that bad. You just got a little carried away with the philosophy. I admire that. You think for yourself instead of regurgitating the textbook or my lectures.”
“Thanks, but I would feel better if it didn’t hurt my grade.”
He chuckled and patted me on the back, making me smile. I felt slightly exhilarated by his touch. I wasn’t used to being touched by anyone. Formal, cold behavior was a bad habit of mine. Despite my welcoming looks, I was socially anxious and socially awkward. My fear of rejection kept me behind a wall of practiced conversations and social avoidance. I felt that facade slipping around Father Garrett. I wished I could be warm and inviting like him.
We walked into the empty classroom together and turned on the lights. The sun hadn’t risen over the trees yet. The old lecture hall’s arched windows overlooked a lush courtyard that sloped down into a meadow of wildflowers. A verdant forest rested beyond the meadow. Deer often grazed close to the woods as the sun rose. Father Garrett pulled an extra chair behind his desk so we could sit close and discuss my exam. My stomach was fluttering as I sat next to him. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my poor academic performance or because I liked him. Most of the girls on campus had a crush on him, but he was well-respected and gracious with everyone, even when they were flirting. He set his coffee down and pulled a stack of papers out of his leather satchel. To avoid staring at him, I admired the trinkets on his desk. My favorite was the porcelain apple with a demonic worm sticking out of it. The grinning worm had horns and a dunce hat. I assumed it represented his worst students. My eyes drifted to the small photo next to it, and my heart dropped at the sight of a younger Father Garrett with his arm around a beautiful young woman draped in white lace. It was a wedding portrait.
“I didn’t know priests could marry,” I blurted.
Father Garrett looked at me in surprise before he followed my gaze to the photo.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. We usually don’t.”
“Are you still married? Where’s your ring?” I asked.
He took a deep breath as I stared at him in confusion. His hurt expression made me regret my question.
“I was with my wife for a few months before she died from a rare cancer,” he said softly.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, Father Garrett. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, Zoe, it’s alright. It was an innocent question that deserves an answer. I… rarely talk about her.”
He was struggling to keep his emotions under control after that confession. He quickly wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he gazed at the photo. It broke my heart. I knew how he felt. I could barely think about my dad without getting choked up. He died in a car crash when I was six. It was the worst memory of my life.
“Father Garrett… do you want to talk about her? I’m a good listener, and I don’t gossip,” I declared with my hand over my heart.
He gave me a sad smile as he considered my offer.
“I would like that, Zoe. Thank you. I had just graduated from seminary and was on my way to becoming a priest when Abigail came into my life. I had never met anyone like her. She was beautiful, smart, and brimming with life. I thought she was an angel. She made me want to abandon the church and pursue horticulture and winemaking,” he smiled as he gazed at her photo.
His big blue eyes almost sparkled as he spoke about her. He was still in love, and it broke my heart even more.
“I had been planning to propose for months. Then she fell ill, and my world stopped for an instant. It was terminal. She would be dead before we could spend a year together. I begged and pleaded for God to save her. I had never wanted anyone so badly. I wanted to start a family with her. Abigail radiated joy. I could breathe her in all day and call my life complete. I married her a week after the diagnosis. I was determined to enjoy what little time we had left. I wanted to make her happy. She deserved it.
The first four months were bliss. We traveled and camped in the wilderness. We skinny-dipped and made love in the Buffalo River. We jumped out of planes in Texas. We relaxed on the beach in the Bahamas and made love in the ocean. Not too long after that trip, she lost her strength and couldn’t travel anymore. Our last two months together were a nightmare, but I never left her side. I prayed in despair as I watched her suffer and waste away. Death was a mercy when it finally came. Something in me died with her. I knew I would never experience anything that wonderful or heartbreaking again. I swear it aged me twenty years. It made me wonder if God was jealous or if he hated me. Abigail stole me from God, then God stole Abigail from me. I felt like I deserved the pain for a while. Bishop Collin visited me while I was lost in misery. He talked me into returning to the church to become a priest as I had originally planned. The administrators were willing to overlook my initial abandonment since I had suffered for it. I still suffer for it, but I have found fulfillment as a reverend and a teacher. There is comfort for those that seek it. The church is my family now, but I’ll always miss Abigail.”
My lungs felt restricted as I struggled not to burst into sobs after his heartbreaking story. It struck a chord with me and reminded me of the pain I felt after losing my dad. The tears dripping down Father Garrett’s face didn’t help my stability. He looked at me a second later, and I lost it. I buried my face in my hands and wept.
“I know how you feel,” I blubbered. “I begged God to bring my dad back when I was six, but he didn’t listen. I thought God had rejected me when he didn’t answer my prayers.”