CHAPTER NINETEEN
Trent had explained that we were going to St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in a historical district nestled near downtown Houston. Butterflies filled my stomach during the twenty-minute drive from my neighborhood on the northwest side to the heart of Houston that littered with skyscrapers. When we approached, I was surprised to find a small, red brick church, not grand like the churches you read about in history class. But at the same time, it looked old, as if it had been there for a long while.
"The church was built in 1880. My parents got married here, and so did my grandparents," Trent said as we walked to the front entrance.
When we entered the church, its understated yet grand beauty struck me. Magnificent columns lined both sides of the interior. They were a crisp white, adorned with leaves and scrolls at the top. The walls were a slightly darker ivory, allowing the architectural detail of the columns to stand out.
As we walked down the aisle to the front of the church, I noticed a series of art pieces lining the walls. "What are those?" I whispered to Trent.
"The Stations of the Cross. The pictures tell the story of the crucifixion of Jesus. Let’s get our seats first and then I’ll show you."
Trent’s grandmother led us to the front row. After putting our things down, Trent whispered to her that he was going to show me around. She nodded, placed a white, lace scarf over her head, and knelt down in prayer. It was interesting to see her completely shrouded in tradition. When I looked around, I saw other Hispanic ladies with their heads covered with the same type of lacey scarves.
"Those are mantillas," Trent whispered, catching on to my curiosity right away. "Older Hispanic women wear them to mass."
He took my hand and led me to the back of the church to the artwork I had asked about. He called each piece a station and explained them to me in detail. When we got to the seventh station, I was surprised to see it damaged and burnt.
"What happened to that one?"
"The Church caught on fire in 1995. They restored every station except this piece, which serves as a reminder of how delicate life is. This is the seventh station where Jesus fell for the second time when carrying the cross to Calvary, the place of his crucifixion."
How delicate life is. I thought of my life and the uncertainty that plagued me. I had fallen too, but eight times. Would this time be any different? I would know in two days. My gut clenched, and my body tensed. I remembered the pain when Tavion had plunged his hand into me and said he was taking my energy source. I didn’t know if I could take that pain again.
Trent waited patiently, allowing me to explore my thoughts. "Will you let me in there one of these days?" he asked.
"Into my thoughts?"
"Your thoughts…your heart…everything," he whispered, his eyes searching my face.
My heart skipped a beat. Heat crept up my cheeks. Every inch of me told me that Farrell had meant something to me in our past lives, though neither one of us remembered it. But was I destined to be with Farrell? Or Trent? And for that matter, could I ever be normal again?
"Maybe," I said.
Trent touched my hair. "Maybe is good enough for me, for now at least."
He took my hand and led me back up the aisle to our seats. His sure and warm grip eased me. Nothing would happen to me here, I thought. When we sat, a deep silence engulfed the church. After a while, an organ started to play and a beautiful choir filled the air. The voices were perfectly tuned, harmoniously intertwined, and rich with depth.
My eyes scanned the church, searching for the source of the music. Trent pointed behind us and up. The balcony had filled with people in white robes standing before a massive organ. The church had packed with people, too. I glanced at my watch—midnight, time for the ceremony. Like flipping a switch, the music stopped. In its place church bells chimed loud and triumphant.
When the bells finished, choir music filled the air again. I recognized the song right away—Handel’s Messiah, one of my dad’s favorite holiday songs. Everyone stood while five priests in magnificent white robes with gold trim and tall ornate hats walked down the main aisle. Trent had been thoughtful enough to let me sit by the aisle so I could see everything.
One of the priests swung a large gold incense holder by a chain. It reminded me of the smell of Infiniti’s room, earthy and magical. With each stride, he swung it back and forth. The powerful scent made my eyes watery and my throat itch. My head started to spin. I clutched my hands together, afraid I might faint.
Please, don’t faint here. I closed my eyes in an attempt to steady my head. When I opened them, the aisle had almost cleared, except for a young girl who must’ve been at the back of the group. When she came to our row, she stopped. I sucked in my breath. My heart beat wildly. I recognized her white dress, long white hair, and big green eyes.
"Abigail," I whispered.
"Yes," she answered with a steady and clear voice. Her face glowed with a radiant soft pink light.
I looked around and realized that no one saw her or heard her but me. I wondered if I was hallucinating, but when I blinked, she still stood there, her eyes focused on me alone.
"Dominique, my message is true. You must find the journal hidden by your parents in the ocean by the tree. And you must stay with Farrell. He will protect you from what is coming. You must have faith. You must be strong. The path always reveals itself."
My parents had hidden the journal? All along, Farrell and I thought they had taken it with them, believing that Tavion now had it. But Abigail was telling me something else.
"Have faith and be strong," she repeated again.
Have faith and be strong… I knew those words. Trent’s grandmother had used them when she gave me the cross. Abigail reached out and placed her tiny fingertips on my cross. She closed her eyes, and the soft glow around her face intensified until a tingly energy flooded my body and left me lightheaded.
She opened her eyes. "Do not be afraid." She tilted her head to the side and stared at Trent. She smiled. "I knew you’d find my friend."
My head continued spinning out of control, and I knew I was about to faint, but I didn’t want to. She said that she knew I’d find her friend. How could she and Trent possibly be friends? My vision dimmed, my body swayed, and before I could ask her, darkness surrounded me.