Dare To Love

3

 Slowing the truck, I changed gears to adapt to the rougher roads that led to the back of the church. I parked and glanced around. The lot was packed. It looked more like it did on Sunday mornings than during a weekday evening mass.

Either someone was getting married or someone had died. I'd find out soon enough.

As I stepped out of my truck, a blast of humid air assailed me. Dusk was slowly creeping, and the great hulking mass of the church and its belfry were sharply outlined against a wash of light purple.

I walked toward the entrance of the rectory, sniffing appreciatively at the sweetness of freshly cut grass. Cicadas hummed steadily, providing a constant harmony punctuated by the multitude of voices raised in prayerful worship within the church. In the streets beyond, children's laughter tinkled as they indulged in one last game of patintero before their parents called them home.

Things were just as I had left them.

The serenity of Laguna seemed to be suspended in time, holding the hustle and bustle of the city at a distance.

I'd been gone almost a week this time. Most of the time was spent at a conference on sustainable heritage in Manila, where I'd been invited to present a paper. There also had been meetings and site inspections.

Oh and that hour with Jonas the Jerk that I sincerely wanted to forget.

But as much as I loved spending time with Andy and June and as exhilarating as the city was, I loved coming home.

The innate tranquility and peace of my town wrapped around me like an old and beloved blanket. It didn't matter whether I'd been gone a week or a year, this was a place I would always come home to.

"Hi, Manang Sally!" Closing a screened wooden door behind me, I smiled at the cheerful, rotund lady who oversaw the upkeep of the convent and rectory.

"O Gia, I didn't realize you were home na." She wiped her hands on her apron as I reached for her hand. Bowing slightly, I raised her hand to my forehead. She smiled and said, "God bless you. Now wash up. I'll be serving dinner in a few minutes."

I noted the array of overflowing dishes on the table. "Does the Bishop have guests? Is that why are there so many cars outside?"

"Have you forgotten? It's Father Nic's turn to host the monthly get-together."

I winced. I had forgotten. Manila sometimes sent me into a time warp. "Are they in the meeting hall?"

"Where else?" As I turned to leave, Manang gave me a stern look, "Tidy up before you go in."

Some things never changed. Manang had been saying that to me since I was no taller than her waist.

Because I didn't put it past Manang to check if I'd followed her dictate, I ducked in a nearby washroom to wash my hands and comb my hair. Fortunately, my dark blue collared shirt and cropped chinos were relatively clean. The blue espadrilles on my feet looked like they had seen better days, but they were comfy so I really didn't care much. I splashed on some cologne and applied a bit of lipstick.

Not too shabby, Gia.

I was glad I looked younger than my thirty-one years. My brown hair was short and wavy, and cut in what my Uncle Emong called the "Twiggy" look—whatever that was.

Being above average in height, I liked to think of myself as slim and willowy, but my brother said I was built like a stick. Though I'd managed to fill out over the years, it would take a miracle to get me into a C-cup.

Large eyes dominated my small face. I always thought they were my best feature, but my brother often told me I resembled Disney's Bambi.

I made a face at the mirror. This was as good as it was going to get.

Exiting the washroom, I followed the steady hum of male voices toward the meeting room. Wanting to make an inconspicuous entrance, I slowly opened the door and I peered into room.

"Hey! Giada is here!"

At the loud, booming voice, all heads turned toward me and the room erupted in loud greetings.

Stepping into the room, I waved to the other priests who were calling out hellos. I sat down beside the man who had ruined my stealthy entrance and glared. Father Harold grinned and held up two fingers in a sign of peace. Shaking my head, I smiled back. It was hard to stay mad at someone wearing THE collar.

"Now that we've all acknowledged Gia's presence, could we please get back to our discussion points?" The voice that boomed over the sound system was clearly exasperated.

Smiling, Father Harold wriggled his eyebrows at me. "Father Nic seems to be irritated with us."

I winked. "I can handle Father Nic." I stood and looked toward the podium where an irate Father Nic was frowning at us. I folded my hands in front of me and tried to look contrite. "Sorry po, Father Nic. It won't happen again."

I counted three seconds of silence before everybody started guffawing. I met Father Nic's eyes. He rolled his eyes before he smiled reluctantly. "That is one promise I know you will never be able to keep. Now have a seat, Gia, or we'll never be able to finish this meeting."

"Sure thing, Father." I smiled and sat down beside Father Harold.

Father Nic narrowed his eyes. "And please, try to keep it down."

Father Harold and I convulsed into giggles as Father Nic continued the discussion on the upcoming sports fest of the priests belonging to the local diocese.

"How was Manila?" Father Harold whispered.

I gave him the thumbs up sign. "The lime will be delivered to your parish next week. I requested a meeting with the cultural agency, just like we planned. We just have to pacify the VIPs, then we can start with the consolidation of the façade." Father Harold did a little dance in his chair. "Tell you more about it later," I whispered when I saw Father Nic look pointedly in our direction.

We sat quietly (well, as quiet as we could be) as the other priests debated the types of sporting events, the teams, and the uniforms. Father Milo of the next parish tried to entice people to sign up for lawn tennis, while Father Dennis from three towns away was excitedly anticipating the basketball games.

Suddenly, I felt the small hairs at the back of my neck rise.

This wasn't something new—I've hung around churches and convents for so much of my life that the odd passing spirit didn't bother me.

Usually.

But this was different. I could actually feel the pull of the force behind me, taunting me to look back.

Reckless child that I was, I did.