He sat completely still and let his soul rest in the simplicity of the quiet room. Too soon, he heard the guard’s heartbeat approaching. He stood and turned, not willing to have his peace interrupted by the words of the docent asking him to leave.

As he exited the chapel, he saw the cover of the Holy Bible sitting on the shelf by the door. He was reminded of his phone call that afternoon with one of his oldest friends.

“I’m coming for a visit,” the priest had informed him. “A proper one.”

“Out of whiskey or deer?”

“Neither, Sparky. You’re getting in one of your moods again, I can tell.” Carwyn’s Welsh accent tripped across the phone line.

“Oh, you can tell from across an ocean? You must be old,” Giovanni quipped in the library as he spoke on the old rotary phone. “I don’t need last rites yet, Father.”

“No, but you do need a bit of fun. That’s why I’m interrupting my very busy drinking and eating regimen to come for a visit.”

“Has Caspar been tattling on me again? Irritating child. And I’m not getting in a mood.”

“Just the way your voice sounds right now tells me you’re already in one,” Carwyn lectured him all the way from his remote home in Northern Wales. “I’m coming for a visit, and I’m bringing one of the dogs. Lock your demon cat up.”

“I have a project going right now.” He attempted to distract his friend as he stared at the flickering candle on his desk, repeatedly passing his fingers through its flame. The fire leaned toward him, dancing in the still air of the library. “And Caspar’s cat is not a demon.”

“The cat is yours; and you know it’s far more demonic than we are. I’ll not have it sleeping on my head again.”

“It’s not like you can suffocate.”

“No, but I can get cat hair up my nose, which is not a pleasant way to wake up. What’s your project?”