A Test of Faith [bxb]

10. I'll Live With Him Once More

Jacob had gone home early on Sunday and, for the first time since I'd known him, didn't show up on Wednesday.

Manny kept assuring us that he was okay, that he just needed time, but it didn't make the loss feel any less catastrophic. A chair had been set up in his usual spot, a haunting emptiness that weighed down the room.

Brother Taylor had organized a missionary prep night, an activity that required barely any organization at all. Three sets of metal chairs had been set up in facing pairs around the room, aside from Jacob's designated seat, each pair with a stack of note cards in a different language beside it.

With only four of us in attendance — and Brother Taylor on his phone in the corner — the pairings were easily decided.

"Oú sont les toilettes?" Ezra asked, reading off a card from in front of me.

"Is that actually the pronunciation?" The words on the card in my hand looked a lot different than what flowed out of his lips.

He nodded with a smile that, I swore, twinkled under the fluorescent lights. "I've been in la classe de français since middle school."

"What can't you do?" I asked, trying to not actually swoon, an impossible task with the way he looked right now.

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he said, biting back a growing smile.

"Would you want to go to France on your mission?"

He looked at me with tight lips and knowing eyes. "You know I probably can't go on a mission, Luca."

It had been something he'd mentioned under the stars, something I never inquired about. But now, knowing the reasoning behind his logic, I called bullshit. "Of course you can. Not a damning sin, remember?"

He bit back a smile before leaning against his knees in thought. "My dad probably won't let me, though. He'd tattle to the bishop, if he hasn't already. An extended punishment, let's call it."

"How do you say bullshit in French?"

Ezra's eyes crinkled as he met my gaze. "Connerie."

"Okay, that's connerie, Ezra," I fumbled over the word, earning a wide smile from the boy. "Your parents care so much about appearance, so why in the world would they make one of their sons not go on a mission?"

He furrowed his brows on chewed his lip, jaw extended. A moment passed. "You might be right."

I rolled my eyes as far back as they could go. "You're stupid, you know that?"

His laughter filled the classroom, causing Manny to glare in our direction.

"Get a room, dumbasses."

"Language," Brother Taylor warned, not even caring enough to look up from his phone.

Ezra's gaze flickered to mine, holding me captive as he chewed his lip. He grabbed my hand and stood up, taking Manny's suggestion and leading us out the door.

• • •

We found ourselves in the same classroom where we spent our first Sunday together, colored paper covering the door and sunlight pouring in from the outside window. There were chairs set up in the small room, but we opted for the carpet.

My head rested on Ezra's lap as his fingers assumed their usual spot in my hair, a comforting position that used to set my skin ablaze — instead, warmth poured over me and brought a smile to my face.

"I think I actually would want to go to France," Ezra said, watching leaves dance in the window. His skin glowed in the sunlight that cast a peaceful aura on the room.