She stared at him. “When you work so hard, you do it in order to avoid having a relationship,” she explained, wagging a finger at him. “You fill your life with busy work, so you don’t have to deal with the emptiness. You think I don’t know that? You need to stop. You need to settle down. You shouldn’t be lonely all the time.” And, with that, she was gone again.
He was left here, stunned, as she’d never said anything quite so personal to him before. But, of course, that was also the danger of becoming friends with somebody like that. Mama would never be the person who could hold back her thoughts, especially when she thought she knew better. And he couldn’t really blame her because he kind of was the same way. Yet, at the same time, it felt odd to have that frank talk directed at him.
Though maybe it was for the best. He really wasn’t ignoring or trying to bump Kate out of his life. It was the opposite, in fact, since he was always trying to figure out how to get more time with her. But she was seriously busy. As he dug into the massive pile of stuffed shells in a beautiful tomato sauce with some basil leaves and white chunks of cheese, he thought about Mama’s words.
Is that what Kate was doing? Working to fill a void? But then again, Kate was driven and had started with that drive for a whole different purpose, and it would take a harder person than him to get her to stop. And why would she? She needed to find her brother, but, with all these other cases, when would that ever happen? It would be more a case of tripping over it, should that opportunity ever present itself. That had to be tough too.
It wouldn’t be easy at any point in time to deal with something like that. He should know since he’d endured enough bullshit in his own life. And yet, at the same time, enough good things had made up for Simon’s rough beginning. He was in the position now where he could do so much more for himself and for others. Kate wasn’t there yet; she was doing a ton for everybody else because of her job, but she couldn’t do anything for herself yet because she was still so caught up in guilt. He shook his head at that. Then remembering Harry’s earlier advice, Simon looked down at his phone and sent her a text.Did you eat today?
He thought about it, then took a picture of his plate and sent it to her. It was probably mean, but, at the same time, maybe it would shake her out of that overworked awareness and make her stop and eat. He was fully prepared to take food home tonight and coax her to join him. Not that he could eat again, but, if she would eat, it would make him feel a lot better. When a response came in, his heart lightened.
No, so save me some.
He quickly messaged back.Not an issue. Tons are here.
And, with that, he attacked his plate with a little more enthusiasm. Even if he did manage to get through it all, he’d be more than happy to pick up more to go home with. Just the thought that she was planning to come by and to eat was enough to settle him down and to soothe his depression.
So what if ghosts bugged him? So what if he was trying to help people out there with this weird gift of his? So far, he wasn’t helping as much as he wanted to. At least he was on a path, trying to give help. With time he would get better, and maybe they could do more with these victims than he was capable of doing now. And just as he went to put the next bite into his mouth, another vision slammed into him.
A door opened right into his consciousness, and he could see outside a big huge window. It was French, with curved tops, and stared out onto a street, with maybe a church on the other side. Then the door shut as somebody entered, blocking the view, and Simon was once again in darkness. He snatched his pen and grabbed a napkin off the table and started to draw. When Mama came around to refill his wine and ask him how his dinner was, he was busy sketching away.
She looked at it and asked, “Are you building a church now?”
“No.” He pointed at his drawing. “I wonder if one is around here like this.”
She nodded. “There is, indeed. It’s just around the corner.”
He looked at her in surprise.
“There’s probably more than one though in this city,” she added. “You’ll have to check.”
He nodded. “I will.”
With that, he took a photo of his sketch, as poor as it was, and sent it to Kate.
Just as he was about to take another bite, Kate called him and asked, “What is that?”
In a low tone he explained.
“You think she’s in that room?”
“I don’t know what else to think,” he admitted. “Somebody is in that room, and somebody opened a door, so she could actually see that little bit.”
“And that’s what let you see it?”
“Right.”
“Got it,” she noted. “How many damn churches are there in this city? A couple hundred for sure.”
“Might be more than that,” he suggested, “but that window is very important. And I just spoke to Mama here, and she told me that one like that is around the corner here.”
“It’s not an uncommon window style,” Kate agreed. “We can’t just assume it’s in that vicinity.”
“No, but why not? It’s local. It’s close and convenient.”
“It is,” she replied. “But we still can’t just jump in and see if he’s on the other side of that building.”
“Well, as far as I remember, considering that church, on this block, has nothing on the other side of that building,” he noted, with a sudden realization. “I think it was actually demolished for an apartment complex.”