Father Coriander bolted up in his cot. He was covered in sweat and gasping for air. The golden rays of the sun crept through the cracks in the door, lightning up the inside of the addition. What the fuck? He prepared himself for the day, socks, boots, colr, yankees hat. The essentials. He stepped out into the bright sunlight and felt the kind warmth licking his face. He looked out towards the town, and saw a few people walking around. Some old cars covered in American fgs trolled back and forth.

  Down in the town, he made a left for the diner. The Bishop had given him his first two months’ stipend early to help ease him into his new life. The diner was bustling. Just like when he was younger, it was the centerpiece of the town. The social hub. The only difference from before was that the residents looked a lot older now. As he opened the door the bell jingled and a few people turned to look. One older dy who was sitting with a young boy waved him over,

  “Get over here! You’re Martha’s son right? You’re the new priest? Oh that ramshackle old building has seen some years. I remember back when it was standing tall an bright like a cross over calvary”

  The woman shuffled around so she sat next to the young boy, who Coriander assumed was her son. He sat down across from them. The boy’s pte held a stack of pancakes drowning in a thick syrup. He had made it halfway through but seemingly got bored and was fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers. The woman extended her hand, fingers down and wrist up.

  “Pleasure to meet you! I’m Samantha, but everyone calls me Sammy.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” he reached forwards and took her hand in his while bowing his head slightly.

  “You ftter me.” she said, “But I must treat you! You have grown so much since your more...delinquent years”

  The boy perked up and said, “I heard you were a right shit as a kid. That’s why you became a priest right?”

  Sammy, quick as lighting, smacked the back of the boy’s head, knocking his nose into the pool of syrup on his pancakes. “Don’t mind my son here,” she gred at the boy, “Gerald still has to learn his manners it seems.” She turned back to smile at Coriander. “What brings you back? I see that dog colr of yours. Were you assigned to our town?”

  “Yes. I joined the priesthood and I’ve been assigned back here. I’m actually hoping to ‘rally the troops’ so to speak. The church is in desparate need of repairs before we can truly hold any kind of mass. The other churches in the area are sending some volunteers, but I’d like to get the community involved as much as possible. I’m hoping at least a few of them will turn up on Sundays.”

  “You came to the right pce. Anybody who’s anybody comes to Val’s for breakfast.” she turned to shout, “Isn’t that right Val?”

  The dy behind the counter smiled a weak smile. “That’s right Samantha.”

  Sammy turned back, “I expect for each person you find here, they’ll bring their kids along. Most of us old folks aren’t as strong as we used to be, but that’s what kids are for!”

  Coriander smirked, happy to no longer be considered one of the kids. “Have you heard much of my mom, Martha, I’ve tried to reach out to her to tell her the news, but I couldn’t get the call to connect.”

  “Oh. Oh dear. You didn’t hear? Apparently after you left for the priesthood she began to work on repairing the church. One day she went out into a storm and that’s the night the roof caved in. We had to pull her out. We held a proper funeral and everything. She’s buried in that graveyard next to the church. She was especially proud of making the living quarters for the next priest comfortable and pleasant.”

  “I...see. Sorry I’m going to need some time.” Father Coriander stepped out of the booth and rushed to the bathroom. He heard someone shouting behind him,

  “Val! New guy’s got food poisoning off your eggs. I’ve been telling you they went bad!”

  In the bathroom he fought back tears. His mother had raised him. His parents had split shortly before he was to join the priesthood. She had supported him all those years, and even now she was the reason he had what he had. He gripped the sides of the sink hunched over and watching the grim face in the mirror. Tears streamed down his face into the sink. His vision blurred. He did his best to keep his heaving quiet.

  * * *

  The community all gathered to help with rebuilding. Plenty of folks from other churches came as well. Several people who worked construction had even sprung some of the equipment from their work sites. Jeff, a constantly sniffing albino man, was running a scissor lift to bring supplies back and forth for the workers on the roof. In the te afternoon Father Gregory even visited. He opted for a more casual style that day, donning red and blue striped shorts, an oversized tye-dye shirt with a smiley face in front, and a navy blue baseball cap with the words, “Jesus Saves”. His bright smile put Father Coriander more at ease. And as the workers were able to manage themselves for a while, they stepped away to converse for a bit.

  “I’m terribly sorry to hear about your mother. If I had known we would have sent word sooner.”

  “These things just happen I guess. She was doing what mattered to her, so I hope she died somewhat at peace.”

  “Not that I mean to pry, but can you tell me more about the dream you had? It doesn’t take a genius to tell that you’re spooked.”

  Father Coriander breathed a deep sigh, “I saw a shadowy figure in the graveyard. Her eyes glowed red and she looked pregnant.”

  “That’s quite interesting. You remember the story of Daniel, how he would interpret the dreams of the king as messages from God? Maybe you should spend some time mulling over what this dream might mean. Maybe you feel guilty for leaving your mother? Maybe there’s something else. But please, don’t let it distract you from what needs to be done. First you’ll need time to grieve, then you can get to work building up your church. I trust you will raise it well.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Oh, hush! You’re a Father now too. Call me Mark, short for Markus. We’re peers now you and I. So I hope you won’t mind me calling you Emmanuel?”

  “Yes, Father… Mark.”

  “You’ll get used to it eventually.”

  A young boy from Father Gregory’s church ran over, “Father! Father!”

  Father Gregory smiled, “William! What is it?”

  “Father! My uncle fell through the floorboards. He’s hurt. We have to get him to a hospital!”

  The Fathers looked at each other briefly and started running towards the church with William in tow. There by the third row of pews was the man. The floorboards were up to his upper thighs and the spots around him glistened red. Streaks of brown mush where the floor had rotted away smudged against the strong wood piercing his legs. A small stream of crimson shot at an angle, arcing into the second row of pews. He was wearing overalls and was slightly hunched forwards. His jaw was sck and his skin was quite pale.

  Father Gregory rushed to the man’s side, “Donovan! Can you hear me, Donovan?”

  The man weakly turned his head towards Father Gregory, his jaw swaying slightly as he turned. The stream of blood sputtered for a second before starting again.

  “Father? You’re not supposed to be here. This is the floor? I’m thinking of getting my son a gecko for his birthday. Do you think the sky turns purple when a unicorn is near?”

  Jeff stepped forwards, his red eyes puffy and strained. “I’ve seen it before. The man’s in shock I reckon’.”

  Margaret was in the corner on the phone with emergency services. But mostly everyone was standing and staring. There was a stillness and a quiet, pierced sharply by the ramblings of a man whose body was slowly shutting down. No one was quite sure what to do. Father Coriander stepped forwards and tore a bit off of his sleeves to wad up against the Donovan’s thigh. It stoppered up the stream briefly, but his hand quickly grew wet and sticky from the blood. He turned and said,

  “Jeff, get your truck pulled around to the entrance. Plow over the fence if you have to I’ll keep pressure on the wound until you can get them here.”

  A few of the men started hacking away at the floor with their hammers and axes. The mix of crunching and squelching sounds filled that stillness. Donovan had stopped rambling. He was slumped sideways onto Father Coriander who spped his face repeatedly.

  “Donovan, Donovan! I need you to stay awake. You gotta stay awake. Do you have kids? How many kids do you have? What are their names?”

  Donovan slurred a few mumblings out. “Yush. Wun. Dimfy.” Each word seemed to weigh as much as the scissor lift outside. Father Coriander heard the hum of Jeff’s red diesel pickup truck and saw the shadow it cast on the entryway. The hacking away at the floorboards had loosened Donovan’s leg. He slumped even heavier on Father Coriander. It became quite apparent that he would need help carrying Donovan. The rags around Donovan’s thigh were dripping. Father Coriander took off his shirt entirely. He tore the previous scraps off of the wound, releasing a gush of blood that stank of rot. Wrapping the shirt around Donovan’s leg he pulled backwards so Donovan came off of the wooden spikes and fell on top of Father Coriander. A few people rushed forwards to grab Donovan and carry him to the truck. Margaret and the others got into the back of Jeff’s pickup and started driving down the hill towards the town. Father Coriander could hear Margaret saying, “Yes. We’re in a cherry red pickup truck. We’re just leaving the church now. We’ve got a shirt on his wound but he looks like he’s taking a nap for now.” She looked puzzled for a moment, her face turned pale. She turned to the two men near Donovan’s head and shouted, “Keep his ass awake dammit!”

  * * *

  After the shock of Donovan’s injuries, the repairs were mostly finished. Enough to the point that Father Coriander could hold mass and community events at the church as he did little repairs around the grounds. The bishop sent him the proper paperwork to fill out regarding Donovan’s injury, along with Donovan’s half of the paperwork which simply requested that Donovan didn’t sue. Father Coriander and Father Gregory were able to spend a short evening together after everyone had already left.

  “It’s been quite a long day for you. And that’s just the first day of the rest of your time here. Is it worth it? Do you feel ready?” Father Gregory’s comforting, if heavy, arm rested over Father Coriander’s shoulders.

  “I don’t suppose it really matters at this point. I am here, these people need me, and I am able to help them. At least in some small way. Maybe that’s all that matters sometimes?”

  “That is true. But don’t forget, God needs you too. Jesus needs you. They need you to be you. They need you to take care of this flock, just as I do mine. Together we can make sure everyone ends up singing with the choir of angels at the end of time.”

  “Perhaps. But I wonder if there is more I can do for them now. Help we could give them before they die.”

  “We are helping them. With every mass we renew their souls. With every confessional hearing we cleanse them. And our community outreach helps save people all across the world.”

  “Yes Father.”

  “Remember, you’re a Father now too. No need for the formalities.”

  “OK, Mark”

  “That’s better. Now let me treat you to dinner. But first maybe a quick shower. I’ll let you use mine until you have your own.”