Father Echevarria
Emilia seeks out Fr. Agustin.
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When you delay the past, you run the risk of repeating its mistakes. Without the past as a guide, you and the people around you descend the spiral staircase. If you descend far enough, your past becomes lost to time.
I’ve been attending Mass at Our Lady of Guadalupe for the past month. In every Mass, Fr. Agustin engages each section of the church as he presents his homily. He tenderly cradles the Eucharist and chalice as if he’s the only one in the church. He greets his congregation at the end of Mass with open arms.
I made a point to say hello after each Mass. When he learned that I’m visiting from another parish, he graciously invited me back to Mass anytime I wanted to. By my third visit, he nods at me from the crowd lining up to speak to him.
The longer I put off notifying him of his family genealogy, the more I started to second guess what I saw. He is a good priest and a good person, and I did not want to waste his time with what I slowly convinced myself to be pure imagination.
Then one night, the book glowed again.
I immediately flipped to the family tree, and once again Celia’s name was active.
The line grew out of her name and started to stretch out to her right. It reached a few inches father than the first time, until the pages started to flutter. Wind started to pick up around the text, so I stepped back and observed the phenomenon.
Just like the first time, the book slammed itself shut.
My next visit to Our Lady of Guadalupe included a pancake breakfast led by the Knight of Columbus. I kept my eye on Fr. Agustin as I chatted with some of the parishioners. Some were part of a women’s group, who promptly invited me to their next meeting. As Father traveled to the coffee machine, I politely accepted the invitation and excused myself.
I picked up my pace when I caught someone in my peripheral also making his way to our station. I reached the coffee maker just in time for Father to recognize me. After exchanging pleasantries, I revealed my line of work and made known that I had a text that may be connected to his family.
With his eyebrows raised with intrigue, he recommended that I set up an appointment so he could review this text. I left him with a gentleman requesting a hospital visit, but not before catching his double take.
When the past makes its way to your present, curiosity outweighs discretion.
Dialogue without dialogue--intriguing continuation!