Chapter 17: Dinner

It had been a few days since Sister Lydia took us in. And by us, I didn’t just mean Nira. Somewhere along the line, the good sister decided I counted too, ghost or not. I didn’t argue. Where else was I supposed to go? She claimed she wanted to help me move on, and I appreciated the effort, I really did, but so far?

It was a total bust.

Lydia had tried everything short of summoning a divine chariot. Holy magic? Nothing. Mystical rituals involving chalk circles and burned incense? I’ve seen it all. Even had her sprinkle me with holy water and chant scriptures over my spectral head. It just went right through me, literally and figuratively.

The good sister even prayed over me. Earnest, kind-hearted prayers. None of it worked. I was still here, stuck.

“That’s how it goes, I guess…”

Tonight, I found myself lying on the old church’s rooftop, splayed out across the terracotta tiles. They weren’t exactly comfortable, but it was peaceful up here. The air was still and cool. I looked up at the sky, taking in the stars. It was clearer than anything I remembered back on Earth. No smog, no buzzing city lights, and no roar of traffic. Just stars. Hundreds… no, thousands… of them, too many to count.

Maybe one of them was home.

I squinted, trying to find something familiar. Orion’s belt, maybe? The Big Dipper? Nothing. This night sky was a stranger. A beautiful, distant stranger I couldn’t read. Back home, half the sky would’ve been swallowed by clouds and pollution. Here, it felt endless. Cruel, almost, to look at something so wide and free when I couldn’t even move on.

I heard rustling. My gaze remained on the sky, but I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Small hands and even smaller feet were climbing up with a level of recklessness only Nira could muster. A few tiles clacked loose. I sighed.

She flopped down beside me like she owned the place. “It’s dinner,” she muttered. “I’ve been waiting forever… Let’s go eat.”

I didn’t even shift. “I don’t eat, remember?”

“I remember.”

She hugged her knees, silent for a moment. I waited. This wasn’t about food.

“And?”

“I want you there,” she said, voice smaller. “The others were being mean to me…”

I glanced at her, expression flat. “It’s because you’re being an idiot.”

She frowned, puffing her cheeks. “Hey, don’t be mean to me too…”

I groaned. “You tried to bite one kid’s ear, Nira. Bite! And yesterday, you filled your shoe with rocks and chucked it at anyone who got within three meters of you.”

“That was self-defense!”

“That was a crime of opportunity. You weird lass…”

“You’re the weird one!” she snapped back, hugging her knees tighter, burying her chin between them.

I let out a long breath, not really annoyed, just… tired. “Why am I the weird one, huh?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered. “Why are you keeping your distance from me? Do you not want me anymore?”

The question cut sharper than I expected. I wasn’t sure what she meant. Was she talking about earlier? About the way I kept to the shadows while Lydia handled her? Or was this something deeper… something buried beneath her brave face and angry shoes?

I shifted onto my side, facing her. “No, sweetie…” I started, voice softer. But I found myself trailing off. I didn’t know what to say next. What was a ghost supposed to say to a child with abandonment carved into her bones?

She broke the silence.

“Mom went away…” she said suddenly. “But she’ll be back, right?”

I froze. My tongue felt heavy.

Then she turned to me, eyes wide and glassy under the moonlight.

“…Dad?”

My chest tightened. If I still had a heart, I would’ve felt it break.

It was getting worse.

At Nira’s relentless insistence, I joined her in the dining area. Well, joined might’ve been a stretch… I just leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, watching the kids eat. The rear auxiliary hall of the church had been converted into a humble but functioning mess hall. A long wooden table stretched across the room, marred by age and use but still solid. The flickering light of oil lamps cast soft shadows as bowls of gruel and boiled potatoes were passed down the line. It wasn’t much, but for these kids, it was probably the closest thing to comfort they’d had in a long while.

Sister Lydia moved up and down the line, helping with the portions. She wore a soft smile, the kind of smile that made you want to trust her, even if you didn’t believe in faith or gods or salvation.

“Eat well, little lambs,” Lydia said gently, ladling gruel into a chipped bowl, “but take it easy. We’re not racing the wind, and there’s enough for everyone.”

Some of the smaller children muttered soft thank-yous, while others dug in with the kind of enthusiasm only hunger can summon. Nira sat among them, practically glowing. She was laughing, telling some half-baked joke about a three-legged dog and a chicken that I swore I’d heard twice already, yet still got the other kids to laugh like it was brand new.

She noticed me leaning on the wall and gave me a grin smeared with gruel. I returned a small nod. This was good for her, being around other kids. Being normal.

Then Lydia caught my eye and subtly gestured for me to follow her. I glanced back at Nira, weighing the moment. But she was fine. Genuinely fine. She didn’t need me hovering.

I followed Lydia into the dim silence of the sanctuary. The pews were empty, the altar faintly glowing with light from the stained glass above. She walked forward and knelt, resting her hands together in front of her chest. I stood awkwardly for a moment before deciding to sit in the pew behind her.

Somehow, I didn’t phase through. It was the same weird logic that let me walk without sinking through the floor.

Lydia began to pray aloud, softly, not necessarily for my benefit, but I heard every word.

“Divine Light, keep the children warm and fed, let them grow in kindness, and shield them from the cruelty they’ve already seen. Thank you for guiding them to me. And if You see fit… give peace to the soul who watches over them still. Let his burden lessen, even if his path is not yet complete. And if redemption is possible… then let it find him.”

She bowed her head, and silence fell like snow. It was… peaceful.

And suddenly, she added, “Thank you, Renzo. If it weren’t for you, the kids might still be trapped under the thumb of the Twinfist Gang…”

I cleared my throat. “What makes you think I had something to do with that?”

Lydia didn’t turn to look at me. “I have eyes and ears, Renzo.”

She then rose from her knees and sat beside me, folding her hands across her lap. Her eyes were sharp now, not scolding, but deliberate.

“Word is… the Twinfist Gang’s got a new leader,” she said, voice low. “And suddenly there are orders to let the children go... just like that. No retaliation. No ransom. Nothing. And now they’re here, safe with me.”

She let the weight of her words hang before continuing.

“Then, there’s the gold. An anonymous donation left on the altar. Not just coins, either… bars. Whoever left it knew exactly what they were doing.”

I raised a hand in mock protest. “Hey now, I can’t even touch stuff, remember? That’s way above my ghostly pay grade.”

She gave me a look that could turn iron to dust. Arms crossed. Lips tight. The classic ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ stance perfected by women who dealt with chaos for a living.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ve been a bit of a busybody the past few days. But it was for Nira’s sake.”

She said nothing. Just gave me that long, quiet stare.

And I hated how much it reminded me of someone who expected better of me.