“A man in the courtyard,” Father Latimer repeated. “You’re talking about your afternoons with Mary Beth Byrne?” His voice went strange around her name, as if it hurt him to keep his tone even.
Eugene nodded, knowing the priest couldn’t see him.
“This man . . .”
“He sits on the bench by the roses, at the back wall of the church. He wears a suit. He never says anything, and nobody else can see him. She told me nobody would believe me,” he added. “She said he wasn’t a ghost. But I don’t know what else he could be.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having imaginary friends at your age,” Father Latimer said, “but it’s not right to go around telling tales trying to upset people.”
“I’m not telling tales,” Eugene said mulishly. “I saw him and he wanted to talk to me, but I was scared. Mary Beth’s never scared of him.”
“Eugene . . .”
“He’s here right now.” But Mary Beth was right; he shouldn’t have said anything. Shame coiled through him and he wished he could take the whole conversation back. He could deal with the man’s specter in his dreams on his own.
Father Latimer sighed. “Why don’t you show him to me. If he’s real, you point him out.”
“He’s in the back row.”
There was a rustle as the priest stood and drew back the curtains to look out across the pews. Eugene waited, his heart beating fast, hoping Father Latimer would tell him—
“The church is empty, Eugene. There’s just your mother waiting for you.”
“He’s here,” Eugene said quietly. “I’ve seen him lots of times. And last night I had a dream, and it felt like a—a vision, or a prophecy—”
“Eugene.”
He bit his lip until it stung.
Father Latimer sighed. “If this man is real, then he’s something wicked. Visions and prophecies are the devil’s work. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Denounce him. Don’t look on him or speak to him. Don’t give him power.”
“Yes, Father.”
“I would have expected this from Mary Beth. She has a wild mind, always asking questions and making things up. You shouldn’t listen to a word that girl says. She’s a troublemaker.” His voice got louder toward the end before he halted abruptly, as if needing to recover. Eugene said nothing. “Now,” Father Latimer said more calmly, “I’ll talk to Mary Beth and see what she has to say, and if your stories align, I’ll have her denounce him too. There's no place in your heart but for the Lord.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Ten Our Fathers, child, and send Mary Beth inside when you see her.”
Eugene dipped his head and shuffled through the curtain. As the priest had said, his mother was waiting for him at the door to the courtyard, and the rest of the church was bare—save for the man in the back row, who watched Eugene as he took his mother’s hand and slipped outside. Eugene didn’t know what the devil looked like, but the man had as good a face as any for the role.