Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [33]
“I have a guardian angel,” she explained. “I call her Miss Teresa.”
“Like Saint Therese, the Carmelite,” the priest acknowledged.
“Who?” Trina asked.
“Saint Therese, the Little Flower,” he replied. “She believed that she was like a flower with a mission of bringing glory to God. She was known for her great spirituality. I studied her during a retreat I took in seminary. She brings many believers a sense of peace and serenity.”
Trina shook her head. “No, I named her Teresa because that was the name of my best friend’s mother when I was a little girl. Miss Teresa Lawson. I called her Miss Teresa. And she was as close to an angel as anybody I ever met.”
“And your Miss Teresa died when you were a child?” the priest asked, trying to sound concerned. “So she became an angel?”
Trina glanced up at the priest. “I don’t think she died,” she answered. “She just moved away.” She looked over at the coolers. “Do you think it would be all right if I got a drink?” she asked. She jumped down and walked over to one of the coolers and opened it. “You want a soda?”
Father George turned in her direction. “Thank you, yes,” he replied.
Trina reached in and got two sodas. She threw one to the priest, who was not prepared to catch it, and immediately it fell to the ground. “Looks like you could use a bit of Alex’s heaven too,” she said, smiling. “You were right when you told Alex about your athletic abilities. You’re not much of a ballplayer, huh?” she asked.
Father George bent down and picked up the can that had landed near his feet. As he did so, he noticed another feather and picked it up. “Looks like there were two angels here today,” he noted, holding the feather out to Trina.
She reached for it as she opened her drink. “Teresa must have brought along a friend,” she said. She stuck it behind the other ear. “Maybe yours finally showed up,” she added.
“Maybe,” he replied, not sounding very convinced. He opened his can, which immediately spewed its contents all over his clothes.
Trina hurried over with a handful of napkins and was wiping them across his shirt, trying to help clean up the mess, just as the crowd of people were making their way back to the tables.
“Well, you two just seem to show up everywhere together.” It was Bernie, the rancher who had met the priest and the young woman in the diner parking lot when they came into town. He was leading the group from the field back to the tables under the picnic shelter.
“I know,” Trina responded. “It’s like we just can’t stand being apart.”
Father George pulled away from the girl, yanking the napkins from her. Trina seemed surprised at such a sharp response. There was an awkward pause in the conversation.
“Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. I’ll go down to the field,” she commented and backed away. It was clear that the priest didn’t want her around.
“Alex just hit a home run,” the rancher commented, aware of the awkwardness between the two newcomers.
“I know. I saw it from here,” Trina said. “Pretty sweet.” She turned and headed to the field, throwing her hand up in the air to wave good-bye.
The two men watched as she stopped and spoke to the few others heading back to the tables. It looked as if introductions were being made.
“I reckon she’s a mess of trouble,” Bernie commented. “A girl like that.” Father George didn’t respond. “You know anything about her?” Bernie asked.
Father George shook his head. “She said she came here because she liked the name of the town,” he replied. “I picked her up on Highway 60,” he explained, glad for the chance to tell somebody how they met, glad for the opportunity to clear up any ideas about their association. “She was hitchhiking,” he added, wanting to make sure the old man heard the entire truth and was able to make a fair judgment.
Bernie walked over to the cooler and took out a soda. “Crazy kids.” He opened the can. “What kind of girl hitchhikes in today’s world?”
Father George shook his head. “I wouldn’t have an answer