And so life went on for the next few weeks. David’s contacts at the casinos found a few things he could help them with; and he settled into a comfortable schedule of legal work during the day and poker games and flirting with women in the evening. Since he wasn’t officially employed, just working as a ‘consultant,’ and he didn’t want to ask his dad for any help, Karen offered to co-sign for him to lease a car. With that and his own key to the house, he was able to come and go as he pleased.

Master Naka had taken a sabbatical from his teaching job in Japan so that he could stay in Michigan for a while. With a letter of recommendation from Fr. Colin, he made inquiries about teaching a comparative religion class or two at one of the colleges in the Detroit Area Consortium of Catholic Colleges, in order to fill his time. The administration was interested in his offer, and he started filling out all the required paperwork, both for the job and for getting his tourist visa converted to a work visa. But since the colleges were in the middle of Winter Term, he wouldn’t actually begin teaching until May. In the meantime, he spent his free time learning about Native American mysticism from Weeping Sparrow, and doing more research on the ‘Hell Mouth.’

Leigh was involved with a new translation project and was splitting her time between checking original copies of the texts in Europe, and life in Detroit. Angie still hadn’t come back from New York, and Aiden managed to change the subject every time anyone asked about her. He’d also practically doubled his hours at the hospital; and Justin, Karen and Leigh were concerned that something had soured his and Angie’s relationship. After a couple weeks of this, Leigh finally went to Long Island, to visit Angie and see how she and her family were holding up.

With the weather finally warming up after what seemed like the most severe winter in a number of years, Tony’s travel schedule was filling up again with consulting work for CDI. He’d also spent a little time continuing his studies at the Vatican Library. He always left a note at the club house, to let the others know when and where he would be, especially since his cell would be shut off any time he was on a job site. The latest note said that he would be taking some vacation time to visit family and see the Pope while he was in New York

Taking advantage of the temporary calm, Justin and Karen had gone on a vacation while WSU was on Spring Break in mid-March. And they were careful not to comment out loud on the lack of Unknown activity, afraid of jinxing it. They simply went about their normal lives, working, spending time with family and friends, and keeping an eye out for the other shoe to drop.

After a few days of R and R, Fr. Colin checked in with his boss, and was off and running again. Since he was already in Detroit, he was given the task of interviewing members of the senior class at Sacred Heart Seminary for potential new exorcists. They would be graduating soon, and the Vatican wanted to get their specialized training started as soon as possible. He’d no sooner finished that job, than he was ordered to go to Brazil to train priests there. His flight left on Apr. 22, and Justin and Karen took him to Metro to see him off.

The next day, the couple were at work like usual. Karen had classes all day, and was prepping for final exams, which started in a couple days. In between, she was finalizing arrangements for the summer’s dig. Justin had his head deep in the undercarriage of a client’s temperamental sports car. It was the middle of the afternoon when the shoe hit the floor.

Justin didn’t notice the shop’s phone ringing. The guys usually had music playing while they worked; but even if they hadn’t, Justin was generally in his own little world when he had the time to actually get his hands dirty.

Owning the shop meant that he spent half his time taking care of paperwork. Sure, he could’ve just hired someone to do it for him. But it was his business, and he felt an obligation to pay some attention to the office work part of it. Jerry handled the rest, usually, on the days that Justin reserved for working on projects for his special clients.

He nearly smacked his head on a tire when he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. It was the cordless phone, laying on top of one of the rolling tool trays. The tray was being pushed toward him by a handle-extender held in Jerry’s hand. “I don’t know what you did, but you must be in trouble,” Jerry said when he saw that he had Justin’s attention. He turned and headed back toward the car he’d been working on in the bay closest to the office.

Justin grabbed the phone and pushed the button to take it off ‘Hold.’

“Justin?” It was Uncle Jerzy, but his voice sounded...strained.

“What’s going on?” Justin asked, immediately on the alert.

“I would like to make use of the services of your ‘hobbyist group.’ Can I meet you at your group’s offices?”

Jerzy sounded grim, and Justin wondered who was in trouble and needed help. Even on a bad day, Uncle Jerzy sounded upbeat, if not positively cheerful. He gave his uncle the address of the clubhouse.

“Will 7pm be alright?” Jerzy asked.

“I can meet you sooner, if you want. We don’t have to wait ‘til 7.”

“No, 7 is the soonest I can meet you.”

Then, before Justin could say...or ask...anything else, Jerzy hung up abruptly. Now THAT was definitely not right. “Jerry! Can you....” Justin hesitated. Should he just go back to work for now? He had over 3 hours until he could meet with Uncle Jerzy and find out what was going on. Or go home? Karen wouldn’t be done on campus until 4pm, though, and he’d be bouncing off the walls if he had to sit around there alone not knowing what the problem was.

“Make a decision,” Jerry said, leaning against the side of Justin’s tool chest, waiting for him to finish what he was saying. He might not know exactly what was going on, but he recognized Fr. Jerzy’s voice and knew that, as important as his work was to Justin, family was even more important.

“Right,” Justin said decisively. “Family first. Can you clean this stuff up for me and lock up my box?”

“Sure. I was gonna tell you that you ain’t gonna be able to concentrate anyway.”

Justin gave Jerry a friendly punch on the shoulder. The kid knew his mind better than he did himself. “Have Marcel finish up on this one if he has the time. Otherwise, can you call the client and let him know it might take a little longer?”

Jerry nodded, rolling Justin’s tool tray toward the sink. Justin headed back to the locker room to clean himself up. Then he grabbed a few things from the storage chest in the back of the pick-up and gently tossed them across onto the passenger seat as he climbed in.

On his way to the St. Lad’s rectory, Justin conference-called the rest of the team, starting with Karen. He knew her phone should be back on, since it was a few minutes past 4pm. Leigh’s, Tony’s, David’s, and Aiden’s cells went straight to voice mail. For Tony and Leigh, that probably meant they weren’t back in Detroit yet. Aiden must be at the hospital again...or still. And David must be in a meeting or at court.

Karen answered first. “Hi, hon!”

“Uncle Jerzy called.” Justin sounded tense, and Karen could hear background noise that told her Justin was driving somewhere. “He said he needs the help of our ‘hobbyist group,’ and we’re gonna meet him at the clubhouse at 7pm. Hold on for a sec.”

Karen heard the engine cut off, and then rustling noises as Justin leaned over to get the binoculars.

“I’m watching the rectory right now, and he doesn’t seem to be in any immediate trouble,” Justin explained to Karen. He could see Jerzy’s car in the driveway, and saw movement in the house, though he couldn’t say for sure that it was Jerzy. “But his tone of voice sounded...tense, like it might be a family problem.”

“Hai.” Master Naka finally answered his phone. Justin was actually kind of envious of that phone. While Master Naka didn’t seem to be an electronics geek or gadgets freak, he did have the newest, top of the line phone from Japan, a phone that wasn’t even available in the States yet.

“Master Naka, my Uncle Jerzy called a little while ago. He needs our help, and we’re going to be meeting him at the clubhouse at 7pm.”

“I will be there.”

“Great. Be prepared to travel, fight or exorcise...that’s with an O, not an E.”

“Excuse, please?”

“Exorcism, with an O. ExOrcise. Not exErcise.”

“Ah, yes. I understand.”

“And don’t worry about bringing salt. We’ve got plenty.”

“Salt?” Master Naka asked, confused.

“For warding,” Karen explained.

“Ah. I will see you tonight.” Master Naka hung up.

“So, do you want me to do anything between now and then?” Karen asked Justin.

“No. I’m gonna just keep an eye on him here. I’ll see you at the clubhouse. Love you.” When Karen hung up, Justin called the others and left messages on their voice mail. Basically, he told them all that Uncle Jerzy needed the team’s help and would be meeting them at the clubhouse at 7pm. There was no way of telling who would show, but Justin wanted all the help he could get.

Justin continued watching the rectory and church and their surroundings. People were coming and going from the church like usual. The ladies with the Altar Guild went in to do some cleaning. A couple old grandmas in babushkas went in. The ladies came out. Mrs. Cavanaugh, the woman who did housekeeping and cooking for Uncle Jerzy, drove up and went into the rectory. At about 5pm, Jerzy went from the rectory to the church to prepare for 5:30 Mass. Justin had almost forgotten about that. It explained why 7pm was the soonest Uncle Jerzy could meet with them.

People started trickling into the church, mostly older people, retired couples, widows and widowers. One of the ladies who played the organ went in. The altar boys came pedaling up furiously and practically threw their bikes into the rack at the corner of the rectory, then raced in the side door of the church. A few minutes later, Justin saw some of the windows being opened for air circulation, pushed out by small hands on the ends of short arms.

A few younger and middle-aged people went in, still dressed in their work clothes, some in suits and dresses, others in jeans and work boots. One guy, who obviously worked some kind of construction job, stopped to carefully brush the dirt off his clothes and take off his ball cap before going in. A couple families went in. And just before 5:30, Mrs. Cavanaugh crossed from the rectory to the church. The church certainly wasn’t packed, but it was a good crowd for a Wednesday evening.

Then nothing much happened for the next hour. It was a warm afternoon, and Justin could hear snatches of the organ music and singing drifting out the open windows. Finally, about 6:25, the people started filing back out. Just a few at first, the yuppies who needed to get back to work and a family with 2 teenaged boys, who slouched out the way they’d slouched in. Justin remembered feeling like that about church when he was their age.

Then Fr. Jerzy appeared by the open doors, shaking hands and greeting his parishioners as they left. The smiles he gave them were warm and friendly. But in the unguarded moments between clumps of people, when he briefly turned away to glance outside, his face looked strained.

Justin saw Mrs. Cavanaugh leave, and the altar boys burst out the side door the way they’d burst in, grabbing their bikes and pedaling furiously away. Most of the people had left when the grandmas finally came out.

And then, the last group out was a small family, mom and dad and their daughter. And this was where things got a little strange. Uncle Jerzy was one of the friendliest guys Justin knew. And he loved children in a very grandfatherly way. He never failed to greet a child, patting her on the shoulder or head, or shaking her hand with a smile if she offered it, just like he did with the adults.

He smiled, shook the parents’ hands. But Jerzy barely acknowledged that the girl was there, giving only a slight nod in her direction, studiously keeping his eyes anywhere but near her, ignoring the small hand held out toward his, his hands clasped carefully behind his back.

Maybe this was why Jerzy called? Justin studied the family. But he could see nothing unusual about them. The parents looked young, maybe his and Karen’s age, nicely dressed.

The girl must have been about 8 or 9 years old, but she was on the smallish side. She probably still needed to use a booster seat in the car...and probably hated it. She wore a dress, obviously put on just for Mass; and Justin wondered if that was what Karen looked like at that age, pretty in a shy way. After holding out her right hand for a moment, waiting, she put it down, and grasped it with the left, looking at the ground like maybe she’d done something wrong by offering it.

There didn’t seem to be anything particularly unusual about the three. Only Uncle Jerzy’s reaction to them. When they finally left after sharing a few pleasantries, Jerzy’s shoulders sagged as if he was relieved they were gone. He disappeared inside, shutting the doors behind him. A few minutes later, he came out the side door and went into the rectory. Justin headed to the clubhouse. He wanted to be there when Jerzy got there, to watch from the tower for anyone following him.

Karen collected Drew and went past the store to pick up a few things. If Uncle Jerzy was upset about something, then Justin would be upset, too. Until she found out what Jerzy was upset about, the best she could do was offer them comfort food. She laughed to herself at the thought. She must have been spending too much time with Leigh; that seemed like the kind of thing Leigh would think about.

She took her groceries to the clubhouse kitchen. One of the best things Marie had taught her to cook so far was Polish Noodles and Cabbage, one of the family’s favorites. It was a very simple dish, with inexpensive ingredients...peasant-food, her anthropology training told her. But it was really good She started working on it, trying to time it to be ready when the others got there.

She heard Justin come in about 6:40, start the coffee-maker on the bar, and go up the stairs to the tower. A short time later, Master Naka arrived. “This’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Karen announced to him. “Polish Noodles and Cabbage, if you want any.”

“Given Mr. Kazotchek’s instructions, I felt it would be best to eat before coming here,” Master Naka told her.

She didn’t take any offence. But she knew that Justin hadn’t taken the time to eat before getting here, and Fr. Jerzy might not have had the time between the end of Mass and now, either.

Justin had seen Master Naka pull in about 6:45pm, and park his leased hybrid sub-compact in one of the spaces beside the driveway. 15 minutes later, at precisely 7pm, Uncle Jerzy pulled in and parked his black, mid-size sedan beside Master Naka’s car.

Jerzy recognized the car because he and Naka had a ‘nodding’ acquaintance by now, courtesy of Fr. Colin. Naka had begun teaching Jerzy GO, since Naka wasn’t much of a chess player. It was Naka’s opinion that Jerzy had a good mind that, if applied diligently, would make him a very good GO player. However, right now he was still losing soundly.

Jerzy, on the other hand, while he enjoyed learning the game from Naka and the companionship that came with that, was more of a darts and racquetball person. In fact, he mostly enjoyed chess for the fun of ‘psyching-out’ his opponent, and won mostly because he could usually ‘persuade’ his opponents to make bad moves, not because he was a stellar player himself.

Justin scanned the roads surrounding the clubhouse, watching for any vehicles slowing as they passed, or stopping for no apparent reason.

Jerzy went in the front door, his overcoat draped over one arm. Karen had seen him pull up on the security monitor, and met him in the front room. There was a combination of anxiety and relief on his face when he saw her, and he held out his arms for a hug. Karen wrapped her arms around him, but she felt a hesitancy in his embrace that wasn’t usually there. She just smiled warmly at him as she took his coat and hung it in on the rack.

Jerzy offered his hand to Naka, who took it, and the two exchanged slight bows as they shook hands. Then Jerzy began pacing restlessly. He’d have been wringing his hat, if he’d worn one.

“Tea?” Master Naka offered.

“Thank you, no,” Jerzy replied.

“Have you eaten?” Karen asked him. “I made some Polish Noodles and Cabbage.”

“As good as that sounds, dear...I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

Whatever was going on, Karen felt that it must be quite personal for Uncle Jerzy. He was never one to turn down food, even if he’d just eaten a full meal somewhere else. This matter must have been weighing very heavily on him.

When Justin was reasonably sure that his uncle hadn’t been followed, he went down to greet him. He felt the same hesitancy in the man’s hug that Karen had felt. “Coffee?” Justin offered him. "I made it strong."

Jerzy released Justin, and began pacing again, wondering where to start. “No, thank you.”

“Hungry?” Karen asked Justin quietly. He simply shook his head. So she went to the kitchen and put the pan in the ‘fridge. When she came back, Master Naka had settled down on a zazen pillow in the lotus position, his eyes closed.

Uncle Jerzy was perched on the corner of one of the coffee tables like he was afraid to get too comfortable. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands gripped tightly. He looked down at his hands rather than at any of the three people with him.

“I’m not sure...where to begin,” he started slowly. “To some point, this is speculation. It’s...outside my...experience.” He rubbed his hands over his face, and the others noticed he was perspiring. It was strange because it wasn’t particularly warm inside, with the AC running.

“Just start at the beginning,” Justin prompted him softly, much like his uncle always did for him when he’d gone to him with a problem.

“Many years ago, when I was a young priest and had just come to St. Lad’s, I developed a...suspicion...over some months that Fr. Berowski was...abusing his position of authority. I began talking to the children, watching their behavior.... I know you’ve read all about the recent abuse scandals. There’s no easy way to say it...Fr. Berowski was raping little girls.” This poured out all at once, like water under pressure from a fire hose.

“I confronted him with my evidence and he denied it, said I was misinterpreting perfectly innocent things and that I must be the one with a problem. Admittedly, most of my evidence was hearsay, but when I went to the Bishop with my suspicions, he told me, essentially, that I was a young punk overstepping my bounds, and that I should respect my elders.

“So I began...surreptitiously...supervising his interactions with the children, and eventually caught him...fondling...an 8-year-old girl. I told him to turn himself in...and that I would if he didn’t. I was full of the passion for right and wrong....

“Rather than face the consequences...he hung himself...in the apse, above the altar and directly in front of the cross. He...compounded sin with mortal sin....” Uncle Jerzy paused, remembering the scene and feeling nauseated. “Everything was hushed up, of course,” he continued after a minute, “and since he was no longer a threat to the children, I agreed to secrecy...which is still the policy, it seems.”

Jerzy shook his head with disgust. “Could I get a drink, son?” he asked Justin.

Justin knew what his uncle drank, and came back with a bottle of good whiskey and a glass. He poured the first glassful and handed it to Jerzy, then set the bottle beside him on the table. Jerzy took a sip, and felt the alcohol burn its way down his throat. He got up and began pacing again as he talked, holding the glass tightly, as if to assure himself he was awake.

“I, frankly, had not thought of Fr. Berowski in some time.”

“How long ago was this?” Justin asked.

“A good thirty years...?” Jerzy thought for a few seconds, looking up at the ceiling. “More than....

“Then, about a year and a half ago.... I thought it was a trick of the mind. I saw him. I’d cleaned up after Mass, and was sitting in the front pew meditating. He was standing at the altar...as the celebrant would....

“I had been sitting quietly...praying...maybe napping a little. When I opened my eyes, he was glaring at me with such...venom. I got up, and he turned and went out into the sacristy. I followed as quickly as I could...but when I got back there...he was gone. I thought maybe I was dreaming...too much Polish sausage...or beer.

“About a month ago, I began to have...disturbing...and vivid dreams. Now...I have never in my life been attracted to little children.... I have prayed and fasted...and still I’m struggling every day against this. I feel...I feel I may be haunted by the ghost of Fr. Berowski...because he blames me. I...it’s all I can do to resist....” Jerzy rubbed his face again and took a long drink of the whiskey, this time emptying the glass. He refilled it and continued.

At one point, when Jerzy was facing away from Justin, Justin pulled the photo chip from his pocket that had the photos he took during the stakeout. He quietly dropped it on the floor and stepped on it with his heel, then bent and picked it up like he had found a piece of dirt tracked in from outside on his boot. There was no way to truly erase the chip, and he couldn’t allow the pictures to end up in the hands of anyone who might use them against his uncle.

“It’s like starving and wanting meat...that deep and feral a need. And I know this is not my nature. I’ve occasionally found myself attracted to adult women...and resisted the temptation because I still, every day, take refuge in the vows I took. I’ve prayed. I’ve fasted. I’ve researched how or why this might be happening....

“I just...I’m praying that this is of supernatural origin and that you can help me.” He looked from Justin to Karen to Naka and back to Justin, his eyes silently pleading. “I’m...afraid that someday I’ll weaken...and do something I cannot live with.” He looked down at the glass in his hands, his knuckles white with the tension of his own grip.

Justin went to his uncle and wrapped his arms around him. “I will not let you commit either sin,” he whispered in Jerzy’s ear, “even if it means I have to stop you myself.”

Though he almost looked asleep, his hands gently cupped in his lap, Naka was not simply meditating. He was letting the words of the others flow through him; his keen ears heard what Justin said and understood that they were spoken with the deepest love.

Karen didn’t need to hear the words to know what was in Justin’s heart, what he would be willing to do for his beloved uncle, even at the risk of his own soul.

“That...is the other problem,” Jerzy said quietly. “Those...are the other thoughts that cross my mind....”

“This is not YOU,” Justin told him firmly. “Maybe he’s not just a ghost. I mean...maybe he was driven to do what he did by something else.”

“I...didn’t think of that,” Jerzy said.

Master Naka opened his eyes. “If I may ask some questions...?”

“Of course,” Jerzy replied, sitting back down on the edge of the coffee table and facing Master Naka. “Please.”

“What age was Fr. Berowski when you confronted him?”

“In his early 40s.”

“And your age?”

“22 at the time. I’m in my late 50s now.”

“And at the time of Fr. Berowski’s unfortunate death, how did you feel?”

“I felt terrible...that I had driven him to it. And bad that...what he did was bad enough, but he compounded it. I do truly believe that suicide is the one unforgivable sin and agree completely with the Church’s stand with regard to it. And because I am finding myself gripped with this.... I don’t think it would be productive to seek help within the church.”

“Fr. Andrew once told me that despair is the worst sin...” Karen said quietly.

“Indeed,” Uncle Jerzy agreed, understanding her point.

“If I may continue, please? How long had you known Fr. Berowski before you were aware of his actions?”

“Only a few months.”

“Did you confer with other priests, if they knew of his actions or had noticed a change in his habits?”

“I tried to without being too direct. But it didn’t seem that they had noticed anything unusual. There were no other priests assigned to the parish, only a few who came to help on holidays, or when Fr. Berowski took a vacation.”

“How long had Fr. Berwoski been at St. Ladislaus when you got there?”

“Somewhere between 12 and 20 years.”

“Had other priests in your diocese served in their churches similar amounts of time?”

“Probably...but I’d have to go digging in records for more information than that. There’ve been many faces over many years.”

“Where do you sleep at night?”

“In a bedroom on the second floor of the rectory, in the back.” Jerzy seemed puzzled by the question.

“Was it Berowski’s?” Justin asked him.

“It may have been at some point,” Jerzy answered.

“But it is on the same campus as the church itself?” Master Naka asked.

“Yes.”

“And was the church, the building itself, ever purified...specifically after Fr. Berowski’s death?”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

“Has anything happened in this time that might have messed things up?” Justin asked him.

“Nothing I can think of.”

“Any remodeling?” Karen asked. She knew that sometimes remodeling could make spirits more active. It seemed to bother them when their ‘homes’ were changed.

“We...got some new pews last year. A section of old ones were wearing out from use.”

“Was there an investigation?” Master Naka asked.

“Yes. But the Church quickly took control of the situation. The authorities soon determined that it was simply a suicide, and offered their condolences. It was my first experience with the monolithic power of the Church to keep its secrets. It works especially well when the detectives happen to also be parishioners. And the Medical Examiner managed to keep it from getting sensationalized in the press, saying only that he’d died.

“A couple of the girls surfaced during the recent trouble and were offered a settlement. I don’t think it’s adequate compensation, but I learned back then how to play the game.”

“So, even if we wanted to follow that line of investigation, we’d hit brick walls,” Justin said, sounding discouraged that the trail was being blocked before the team had even gotten started.

“You would. And, I have to admit that it would cause me trouble. But, more importantly, I believe those children have suffered enough, and I’m not sure I could bring myself to divulge their identities and open old wounds, even to help myself.” Fr. Jerzy paused, sipping the whiskey and staring into the golden liquid. “I’m having the most vile dreams, and I’m afraid that I’ll wake and find that it’s not a dream.”

“Karen, do you think...could you do a...?” Justin tried to ask, never remembering exactly how she referred to that particular Art that could interfere with ‘outside control’ of a person’s mind. He knew what to call the ‘Sphere,’ but it was different than that....

“You mean a Mental Shield. I could, but it wouldn’t last long, and depending on what’s going on, it might not help much. It’s...a skill I have,” she explained for the sake of Master Naka, “which blocks mental control by creatures of the Unknown, but only for a minute. And I can only do it once every 12 hours. In some situations, the ‘interruption’ can stop the control completely. But in others...”

“Like with Aiden, when he was ‘wolfing-out’...” Justin said.

“Right...it’s simply a reset button. And sometimes all it does is let ‘Them’ know you know They’re there...”

“Like with Hounds. I hadn’t thought of that,” Justin said.

Master Naka raised one eyebrow, not entirely believing all this talk of ‘super powers.’

“It’s different than doing a Sphere, which blocks physical attacks and drives off Unknown creatures. I can keep a Sphere up until I pass out from the strain, if I have to. But that won’t help with something like this. There doesn’t seem to be an actual presence.”

“Maybe you should go on sabbatical, Uncle Jerzy....” Justin suggested.

“How often are you dreaming?” Master Naka asked him.

“Every night,” Jerzy replied wearily.

“You are sleeping here tonight,” Master Naka told him.

“I can....”

“That was not a request.”

“Then it’s good I’m amenable,” Jerzy said, bristling slightly at being ordered around, the mental fatigue allowing his internal monologue to slip past the ‘filters.’

“And I will sit vigil,” Master Naka said softly, trying to sooth Fr. Jerzy’s feelings. “That is the correct word, is it not?”

“Yes,” Karen told him. “And I think that’s a good place to start the investigation. Let’s see if something is coming to him to cause the dreams, or if it’s coming from inside.”

“Is he using one of the guest rooms up here...or downstairs?” Justin asked. During the remodeling, they’d outfitted a couple of ‘cells’ in the basement, reinforced and soundproofed well enough to contain a werewolf...something they had experience with.

“A guest room, of course,” Karen told him. “None of us are 8-year-old girls.” She hoped that Uncle Jerzy didn’t think she was mocking him. But she didn’t feel that he would be a danger to any of them, especially not as long as there were at least two people ‘on guard.’ She wasn’t about to let another ‘Running Elk episode’ happen.

“I’ll need to pack some things,” Uncle Jerzy said.

“Good. That’ll give us a chance to check out the church,” Justin agreed. He started to turn toward the garage door, and Jerzy stopped him. He hugged Justin tight, like a drowning man grabbing the lifeguard who’s there to save him.

Justin wrapped his arms around his uncle and rubbed his back roughly. It was the same thing Jerzy had always done to Justin when Justin came to him with a problem, a way of letting him know that he believed in him and together they’d find a way to fix the problem. And for the first time, Justin realized, at least consciously, that he was bigger than his uncle (and probably had been, actually, for years.)