As Chris approached the crowd still distributing food, his thoughts drifted to his daughter.
His daughter, Sharon, was adopted by him and his wife, Rose, after completing all the procedures at a monastery. In recent years, for reasons unknown, her sleepwalking symptoms had worsened significantly.
If it were just ordinary sleepwalking, involving wandering around the house, it might have been manageable. But Sharon's condition was severe.
So severe that she would run outside regardless of whether the doors were locked. She could leave her room and the house, venturing outside, a situation fraught with dangers.
The most perilous incident occurred during a family outing when Sharon, having just closed her eyes in the car, vanished while her parents were setting up the tent. She had walked to the edge of a nearby cliff.
Had they not been acutely aware of Sharon's condition and pulled her back from the cliff's edge in time, she might have fallen off that day.
Now living in New York for a while was primarily for their daughter's condition.
Regrettably, even some renowned doctors in New York were at a loss with her sleepwalking disorder.
Feeling gloomy, he would drive aimlessly, not knowing where he was going until he found himself at Ashby Abbey one evening. Walking in almost as if drawn, he met Father York and found a sense of calm after a long conversation.
This prompted him to regularly attend mass at Ashby Abbey and pray for Sharon.
Gradually, he became familiar with the place and eventually volunteered at the church.
His wife, Rose, influenced by him, would also occasionally come to pray for Sharon and for herself.
"Mr. Chris?"
Lost in thought, Chris hadn't realized he'd reached the vehicle until he heard a familiar, raspy voice snapping him back to reality.
"Father John, I came to help."
Chris smiled at the monk in front of him, who was distributing food while dressed in simple clerical robes.
The monk before him was sturdy, exuding a dependable aura without saying a word, though his movements were filled with respect for everyone.
Despite this, Chris could sense a barrier that kept people at a slight distance, quite unlike Sister Eileen, who seemed to embrace everything with warmth, making people feel immediately comfortable.
Certainly, he was very different from Father York, who, although not as universally embracing as Sister Eileen, radiated a welcoming warmth.
Comparing the monk with other clergy at the church, Chris also recalled some memories.
Charity is charity, but not all those who receive it are good.
The crowd was a mix of good and bad, and Chris remembered instances when troublemakers disrupted the distribution, resolved only by this monk's intervention.
Even in some troubled areas, it was this monk who negotiated solutions.
For some reason, areas frequented by gang members cleared out whenever the church van appeared.
"Hmm."
John Wick responded nonchalantly to Chris, then stepped aside to let him join in.
Chris understood and moved to fill the space, directing people to split into two lines.
"Thank you."
"May the Lord protect you."
"Thank you."
"..."
After a series of thanks, the area cleared up.
Everyone in line had received food, and just as the distribution ended, it was also time to wrap up. There was some food left, but it was just the right amount.
"Thank you for your help, Mr. Chris."
Hearing the familiar raspy voice again, Chris looked up and replied.
"Father John, it's my duty."
"Hmm." John Wick, ever laconic, surveyed the area and glanced at the now-cleaning vans and the waving Lucy, alongside the ever-talkative Anna, and calmly said.
"Let's go back."
"Alright." Chris nodded.
Just then, a sudden bang startled him, but he quickly regained composure, his expression turning grave.
It was a gunshot.
Living in America, people are ingrained with a recognition of gunshots. Though Chris appeared scholarly, he kept firearms at home for self-defense.
Seeing that everyone had stopped eating and was now tense, Chris instinctively looked at Father John.
"It's nothing."
John Wick had already looked towards a certain direction and calmly added,
"It's some distance from us."
"It's Snake Gang territory over there; it's always chaotic, and gunshots are normal."
John's calm voice reassured everyone, and Chris felt a wave of relief.
Father John indeed made people feel safe. Chris always thought the Father had a mysterious past.
Gunshots intermittently continued, unsettling everyone, and the crowd began to disperse.
"Although it might not affect us here, we should leave quickly."
John Wick motioned to the volunteers to start packing up.
"Alright." Chris nodded.
---
Ashby Abbey.
It was afternoon, not yet dark enough for lights but candles were fully lit, rows of pews clustered around the central figure of Jesus.
The atmosphere was serene, devoid of any noise, as if suspended in a
peaceful era.
Only a few people sat scattered around, not disturbing or approaching others, just silently praying with clasped hands.
In a corner on the right, a noticeably mother and daughter sat together.
The girl was merely sleeping, resting on her mother's lap.
The woman, with striking blonde hair and a face that showed both cool detachment and melancholy, watched her daughter sleeping sweetly on her lap, sighing with a mix of guilt and affection.
Although Sharon wasn't her biological daughter, Rose loved her more than anything else.
After so long in New York, visiting many hospitals and seeing numerous doctors, Sharon's condition hadn't improved but had worsened.
Rose gently stroked Sharon's hair, then sneakily glanced around.
She felt somewhat embarrassed.
After all, she had brought her daughter here to sleep too many times.
Fortunately, the clergy at this church were exceptionally kind, never bothering them and even offering understanding and welcoming smiles.
She hadn't seen the priest or the nun in front.
Rose continued to look back, and as expected, the nun appeared just as she had imagined.
The nun seemed young, like a college student, but actually, everyone who came here respected her greatly.
Watching the nun quietly reading a book, Rose felt a peace in her heart and turned back to her daughter.
It was strange how her husband had stumbled upon this church, giving her a unique feeling.
Her husband was a devout believer, influencing her to occasionally attend masses at nearby churches.
But none of those churches had the atmosphere of Ashby Abbey.
This church was different, having only three clergy members.
Rose pondered this but couldn't quite explain why.
What she didn't know was that the unique atmosphere was largely due to the holy power emanating from Father York.
The difference between ordinary churches, cathedrals, and sanctuaries could also be explained by this.
Cathedrals hosted bishops and more clergy, whose presence naturally influenced the atmosphere, while sanctuaries had holy grounds and relics capable of transforming the surrounding material environment.
Thus, as an ordinary person, Rose couldn't grasp the truth; she simply stared at Sharon.
Sharon only slept peacefully here.
In other places, she would frown or talk in her sleep.
Only here did she sleep soundly, which was why Rose often brought her daughter here.
Today, they had come specifically, with Rose accompanying Sharon while her husband, Chris, volunteered with the church van.
It was their way of giving back to the church and doing good deeds, hoping that God would pity their Sharon and cure her one day.
Just then, Rose noticed Sharon's eyelids twitch before she opened her innocent, naive eyes.
"Mom?"
Rose smiled, "Awake?"
Sharon sat up abruptly, whispering, "Did I sleep again?"
As if she had done it many times before, Rose smoothed Sharon's hair, speaking gently.
"Yes, were you having that dream again?"
Sharon blinked, looking at her stepmother. Although she knew the woman before her wasn't her biological mother, she felt loved by her and liked her, shaking her head.
"No."
After responding, Sharon glanced around the church as if searching for someone.
"Daddy?"
"He went to help Father John." Rose said tenderly.
"Looking at the time, he should be back soon."
It was curious that Sharon was willing to be close to the people here, a remarkable thing.
Other than her parents, Sharon didn't get close to or approach anyone else, always appearing distant, which pained them.
Rose couldn't help but remember the first time she brought Sharon here.
The first time Sharon met the priest, she even allowed him to pat her head.
This was something they had never seen before, so she felt this church, including its priest and his clergy, was very special.
"Oh."
Sharon responded, her voice dropping, falling silent.
Clearly, coming to Ashby Abbey this time made the young girl feel a bit strange.
Rose felt a pang of pain, hugging Sharon and whispering,
"I'm sorry, I..."
Sharon shook her head, cutting off Rose's words,
"I don't want your apologies."
After speaking, Sharon stretched out her arms and hugged Rose's waist.
Rose paused, taking a deep breath, determined to cure her daughter's illness.
Unbeknownst to them, a figure entered through the back door.
It was Chris, who had just finished his duties. He watched the mother and daughter embracing, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him.
"Mr. Chris."
Hearing the voice, he turned to see Sister Eileen, who had approached unnoticed.
"The Lord will protect you," she said softly.
Chris replied bitterly, "Thank you, Sister Eileen, for letting Sharon sleep here."
Eileen shook her head, "It was Father York's command. He once had me arrange a small room inside, but Mrs. Rose prefers here."
Chris responded, "This is enough, Sister. Please convey our thanks to Father York."
Eileen nodded slightly
, "I will."
"Hmm." Rose also nodded and prepared to walk over.
But the words she heard next made her pause.
"Mrs. Rose, if you need help, just let me know," Eileen spoke calmly.
"Perhaps Father York can solve Sharon's issue."
Chris frowned involuntarily, skeptical that a priest could solve a problem that even professional doctors couldn't.
While he respected Father York and found him quite unique, he didn't truly believe a priest could cure Sharon's condition.
Doctors specialize for a reason, and if it were issues involving the supernatural, demons, or devils, perhaps he'd believe.
But Sharon's problem clearly wasn't of that nature.
Chris sighed internally, not outright rejecting the nun's words but nodding again and walking slowly towards his wife and daughter.
Eileen watched Chris approach Rose, who was talking about something, then picked up the young Sharon, her curiosity piqued.
She wondered why the child caught the bishop's attention upon arrival.
Watching Chris carry Sharon and follow Rose out, Eileen retrieved a paper from the book she was reading.
It was a task specifically assigned by the bishop, and this paper, written by him, was meant for Chris's family.
Chris looked at the paper Sister Eileen handed him, puzzled.
"What is this?"
"This is from Father York," Eileen said while gently stroking the smiling Sharon's head. "He said to take a look when you get home if you don't mind."
Chris paused, exchanging a look with Rose.
The couple exchanged glances, and Rose reached out to take the paper from the nun.
Eileen's smile remained as she stepped back and nodded.
Chris, recalling the nun's earlier words, took a deep breath, nodded to the nun, and then started towards the main entrance, leaving the place.
Rose followed, and Eileen watched until Chris's family disappeared through the main door. She pondered for a moment, then left the spot and walked slowly towards the side aisle.
___________________
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