Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Would you like to come in?”
I thought for a second. Even though it was getting late, I felt compelled to enter—like this place had been calling to me, and it was somehow not a coincidence that I’d driven by.
“Sure. Thank you.”
He brought me into a small sitting room just off the entrance.
“Are you from the area?” he asked.
“I’m actually moving back home to Woodsboro. I’m relocating from Chicago, but I grew up here.”
“What brings you back?”
“I’m going to be taking care of an adult family member with special needs.” I paused. “You’re talking to me. Why did I think monks were silent?”
He chuckled. “We do not keep perpetual silence here. That’s rare nowadays. Although we do have moments of silence and certainly avoid idle talk.”
I arched a brow. “This isn’t considered idle talk?”
“When conversation is necessary to help others, it is encouraged. I get the impression you’re in need of some guidance.”
You’re right. I spent the next several minutes filling him in on the situation with Scottie, without mentioning any names. But ultimately, I couldn’t help myself.
“Actually, you may know Scottie’s father.”
He folded his hands together on his lap. “Oh?”
“Wayne Longo.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Wayne Longo…yes, I do certainly recognize the name.”
“I figured you might. Clearly this place meant a lot to him. I found a bunch of notepads with this monastery’s name on them back at Wayne’s house. I assume he must have donated a lot of money for those.”
The monk nodded. “Indeed, he did.”
“Do you have any idea why? I mean, not that anyone needs a reason to give to your fine establishment, but—”
“People donate to the monastery with specific prayer requests. We then add their appeal into our daily benediction.”
“Was Wayne on, like, autopay or something?” I joked.
He didn’t crack a smile. “Wayne always had the same, single request: that we pray for his son, so that Scott should always be looked after, safe, and cared for in the event that anything happened to Wayne.”
I took a moment to let that sink in. “Really…”
“Yes. That was the only thing he asked for.”
“Wow.”
“So it seems his prayers have been answered.”
I looked away, taking in that revelation. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Something else is troubling you…” he said.
This monk had a sixth sense. There was no reason to hold back.
“As I told you, Wayne’s older son, Brad, passed away in an accident before Wayne died.” I took in some air. “I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with Brad’s fiancée—the woman he was engaged to before he died. We’ve been taking care of Scottie together and fell for each other in the process. I don’t know how not to love her, but I also don’t know how to live with myself for betraying my friend.”
The man’s expression didn’t change. He seemed unaffected by what I’d just confessed. “Your friend has a much greater purpose now than to be concerned with such things,” he said.
“How do you know that?”
“He is one with God. He knows no jealousy or feelings of betrayal anymore. Beyond this life, it is understood that such things are poisons. They don’t exist with God. There is only love and forgiveness.”
“Are you saying Brad wouldn’t be angry at me for basically living the life he was supposed to have here? He wouldn’t think that was unfair?”
“That life he knew here on Earth is over, son. Brad is in a better place. But even if he were concerned with such things, I doubt he would want his loved ones to suffer, if what you and she want is to be together. But again, Brad is with God, and your actions now are no longer relevant to him.”
His perspective, at the very least, was one I desperately wanted to believe.
I nodded. “I never thought of it that way, I guess—that he’s moved on from any of the emotions that might come with things happening here. Most days it’s still hard for me to grasp that he’s actually gone.”
“He’s not gone,” the man corrected. “He’s with God, son. And you are here, taking care of his brother. And mending the broken heart of your dear…” He paused. “What is her name?”
“Carly.”
“Carly.” He shut his eyes momentarily. “Bless you both.”
“Thank you. I greatly appreciate your kind words.” I got up from my seat. “While I have to head back, I feel like I was meant to stop in here today. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me. This seemed to come at the exact moment I needed it.”
“That’s how it works, son.”
The monk escorted me out, and I left there feeling a peace I’d never expected. It felt like a gift—from Brad or Wayne, maybe both.
All throughout my ride today, I’d wished I could speak to Brad. Now I chose to believe he had communicated with me through that Trappist monk. Or maybe I had to believe that in order to do what I knew I had to as soon as I got back home.