Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 8 - Meet the Parents

True to his word, Jamie leaves me briefly in the morning – after we cooked breakfast together, nearly making him late when he insisted on using me a his bacon-plate.  I just clean up the kitchen and get out of the shower when I hear the front door open. 

“It’s me, Claire,” Clark’s voice sounds through the closed bedroom door, “Are you decent?” 

“One minute,” I tell him, dressing quickly. 

“And a decent Saint girl is an oxymoron, you know?”I chuckle as I open the door. 

“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” he observes, “I take it your talk with Jamie went well?” 

I blush and grab my pair of handcuffs, still lying on my nightstand, and throw them in the drawer beneath my platform bed before he can notice and kick it closed, “Did you really come here to get the details of my night?” I ask. 

No,” he walks into the living room, “I came to make sure you follow up on everything you need to do to leave.  And to fill you in on what you’ve missed,” he adds, but I think there’s more to it. 

“And?” I ask, wrapping my still-damp hair up in a pony tail.  I’m amazed I still have bands for it, but I found a bunch of hair stuff in a plastic tub under the sink this morning. 

“And we’ll get to that,” Clark’s wings flutter slightly, “When does your passport come in?” 

“Thursday after four,” I tell him, beginning to make the bed. 

“What else do you have to do?” he asks? 

“Set my bills up on auto-pay, have my mail forwarded to Jojo, buy some stuff for my computer, get my nails done, cancel some subscriptions, get my immunizations, contact the condo-association, set up a cleaning service, get the Jeep ready for storage, contact my insurance company, clean out the fridge,” I start ticking off, “Most of that can be done online.” 

“Have you given the slightest thought to packing?” Clark asks, his voice slightly muffled as I hear him from the kitchen now, “You can’t bring all of your shoes – or even your clothes – with you.” 

That stops me dead.  I don’t own a suitcase, much less the shipping container it would take to bring all of my shoes, “Um,” I glance into my closest, “No – not until you brought it up.” 

“Well, you’d better think about it,” he appears in my doorway, glass of orange juice in his hand, “The weight capacities on private jets are much lower than those on commercial flights.” 

“Don’t suppose I could have them pre-shipped?” I ask, but I already know the answer. 

“Choose well,” he smirks, “Come out here when you’re finished.” 

I straighten the last crease and put the newly-fluffed pillows back.  “How are Father Jonas and Lupe and Jose?” I ask as I flop onto my couch. 

“They’re fine,” Clark assures me, “Father Jonas was very pleased to hear what happened with Jamie.  Darius, however, is still furious.  It seems Jill’s trace found that the chain of command went back to the Goddess, herself.  There is absolutely no precedent for this, Claire.  You’ve thrown the entire hierarchy on its ear.  There are anecdotal accounts of the Goddess being active before – Father Jonas being one.  But she has never actively involved herself in the balance of power before.  She’s always worked through already-good people until now.” 

His words sting.  I don’t think that he means them to.  I think he’s speaking from a historical perspective – every one of the sightings of the Virgin has been to pure souls.  But they hurt nonetheless.  He doesn’t notice.