The man’s eyes moved from Robin’s face to the poster in his hands and back. “I have never seen a man so in need of a cup of tea.” He smiled.

And Robin did too.

Chapter Forty-Three

Robin sat in the front row of the pews, staring at the altar and, behind it, a stained glass window depicting Jesus feeding the five thousand, while the Father, who’d introduced himself as Michaels, went to make a cup of tea. Robin looked at the image in the glass for a long time, thinking the congregation of the church must stare at this window for hours on end. He wondered what they saw, what they felt when they looked at it. Did they feel some kind of overwhelming salvation? Because all he saw was a nice piece of art.

Sometimes he wished he saw more.

The Father came out of a side room, carrying two novelty mugs full of piping-hot tea. He sat down next to Robin and handed him one—a white mug with “You don’t have to be religious to work here, but it helps!” on it. Robin gave his thanks.

He sipped at the tea, finding it way too hot, and lowered the mug. The Father, on the other hand, took a deep sip and smiled. “What brings you here, my friend?”

Robin felt the poster that he had replaced in his pocket, and decided that if there was ever a time to be truthful, it was now, under the watchful eye of the savior of the world. “I came here following a lead.”

The Father regarded him. “A lead? A lead for what?”

“I’m sorry, but don’t you know who I am? I’m pretty much the talk of the town and I must have been on the news, and...”

“I know who you are, Mr. Ferringham. I want to know what brought you here.”

“I just said...it was...”

“What really brought you here?” the Father insisted.

Robin shut his mouth. And thought about the question, really thought about it. What really made him come to Marsden? “I’m chasing someone. A ghost. My wife. I kept kidding myself that she was leading me here, that if I came here I would find her, or at least find what happened to her.”

“You had faith?” the Father said.

Robin looked at him and after a moment nodded. “I suppose I did.”

“You thought that you were part of some design. A design that she made.”

“Yes. But now I realize that I was just used, that my blind faith made me a tool in someone else’s plan. That maybe my love for her is a weakness.”