The warmth of the reunion clung to the quiet stone walls like a lingering echo. Sister Maria finally eased her arms from around him, her fingers slipping away slowly, as if reluctant to break the contact. When she stepped back, she looked up at him fully—really looked—and her smile softened into something tender, almost maternal, almost relieved.
Luke wasn't used to being looked at like that. It made the cathedral feel brighter.
"So," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Where's Father Wingate? And the kids? This place is… weirdly empty."
"Oh, them?" Sister Maria brushed a stray lock behind her ear—she still hadn't finished tying her hair, the ribbon loosely dangling from her fingers. "They're out."
"Out?" Luke repeated.
