.Clara readied herself for the trip to church. Her long wavy blonde hair was tied back demurely and her floral print dress was light and summery, and therefore appropriate in the warm weather. She wore light sandals and her legs were bare.
She sat half way back in the centre of the nave and listened to the sermon, looking for all the world like the perfect true believer. What nobody knew was that all she could hear was the rich timbre of Father Patrick’s deep voice. She did not understand the feelings that it aroused, but there were tingles that coursed through her body every time he spoke. She had no recollection of what he actually said; all she could hear was the voice. All she could feel was those tingles. *This must be a sign, a religious awakening*, she thought. She had been hoping for such an event and blamed her own sinfulness for its absence until now.
When the faithful were called forward for Mass, she knelt at the rail and looked up at him as he ministered to the flock. The light of the candles shone in his thick dark curls and she was transported. The room almost swam around her and she feared she might faint but she successfully made her way back to her seat. *This is it, I am blessed and have found the truth,* she thought.