Adding to his unease and vulnerability was Luke’s apparel. It had been James’s idea that wearing his Brotherhood of the Slaves of Mary habit would be too much for Shawn, so Fathers Maloney and Karlin had between the two of them come up with a very casual wardrobe of jeans and shirts, some of which he was wearing at that moment and the rest of which he had stashed in a small roll-on suitcase at his side. Also in the suitcase were toiletries that the two priests had gone out to buy, as Luke had brought nothing of the kind with him from the monastery. Besides clothes and toiletries, the suitcase contained a cell phone, some cash, and a new Rosary blessed by the Holy Father himself as a special gift from the cardinal. If he needed anything, Luke was supposed to call Father Maloney or His Eminence.

Suddenly, the Daughtrys’ door was pulled open to its full extent, and Sana and Luke confronted each other. Both froze in total surprise, as neither person came close to matching the other’s expectation. Sana was the most surprised, instantly overwhelmed, as James had been, by both Luke’s angelic, youthful appearance and virtuous aura but mostly by his soft, imploring eyes that looked to her like bottomless crystal-blue pools and his pouty, vulnerable lips. For his part, Luke had expected an unattractive, threatening male figure like an allegorical image of the devil in a medieval painting.

“Luke?” Sana questioned, as if she was experiencing a vision.

“Mrs. Daughtry?” Luke questioned, as if perhaps he was at the wrong house.

Sana looked around Luke’s thin but shapely body and caught sight of James, who had his vehicle’s interior light on. She waved to let him know that Luke was safe. James responded with a wave of his own, and then turned the vehicle’s interior light off in preparation of leaving.

“Please come in!” Sana said, with an uncertain voice. She was weak-kneed and astounded by Luke’s luminosity, particularly the color and shine of his shoulder-length white-blond hair and the perfection of his skin as he passed by her. “Shawn!” she called out. “Our guest’s here.”

Shawn appeared from the kitchen with a scotch on the rocks in his right hand. With a surprised reaction similar to Sana’s, he pulled himself up short and gazed openmouthed at Luke. “Good Lord, boy, how old are you?”

“Twenty-five, sir,” Luke said. “About to be twenty-six.” He was relieved to a degree. Shawn didn’t look quite as formidable or devilish as he had feared.

“You appear much younger,” Shawn commented. The boy had such enviably perfect skin, and teeth as white as new fallen snow.

“Many people have said as much,” Luke responded.

“You are to be our houseguest for a week,” Shawn continued. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, sir,” Luke responsed. “And I was told you have been openly informed why I am here.”