THE WEIGHT OF HALO'S - by blue-cordial
Part One: The Morning Service
The church bells of St. Michael's had been ringing for nearly five minutes when Mira Callaghan stepped out of the family's black sedan, her patent leather heels clicking against the gravel path that wound through the cemetery and toward the grand sandstone building. The June sun was already warm, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sweetness of honeysuckle that grew wild along the iron fence.
Mira adjusted the straw hat perched upon her dark curls, a necessary evil on days like this when the morning sun streamed through the stained glass windows and caught every errant strand of hair. Her fingers found the pearl-tipped hatpin, pressing it more securely into the mass of black ringlets that she had spent forty-five minutes taming that morning. Her mother's voice still echoed in her ears—"A reverend's daughter must always be put together, Mira. You are representing not just yourself, but this family, this church."
She was always representing something. Never just Mira.
"Coming, darling?" Her father's voice carried from where he stood by the church's heavy oak doors, his black robe billowing slightly in the breeze. Reverend Callaghan was a tall, distinguished man with silver at his temples and a gentle authority that had made him the spiritual leader of their congregation for nearly two decades. His hand rested on young Declan's shoulder—her brother had grown another inch over the winter, now nearly matching their father in height despite being only sixteen.
"Yes, Father." Mira smoothed the front of her powder-blue dress, a modest cut with a rounded neckline and sleeves that fell to her elbows, and made her way up the stone steps. Inside, the organ had begun its prelude, and she could hear the soft murmur of the congregation settling into their pews.
The church was beautiful in the way old things often were—the vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of biblical proportions, the carved wooden pews worn smooth by generations of devoted backsides, the great rose window that cast a kaleidoscope of color across the marble floor. Mira had spent more hours in this sanctuary than she had in her own bedroom, knew every crack in the stone, every faded patch of paint, every note of every hymn committed to memory.
Her family took their place in the front row, as they always did, and Mira arranged her skirts with practiced precision. She kept her back straight, her chin level, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The perfect reverend's daughter. The example.
It was exhausting.
From her position, she could see the Patridge twins entering through the side door, their blond heads immediately visible above the crowd. Callum and Christian moved with the easy confidence of boys who had been raised to believe the world was theirs for the taking, though they wore it differently—Christian with a quiet steadiness, Callum with a barely concealed energy that seemed to radiate from his very bones. They slipped into their family's pew, two rows back and to the left, and Mira felt the familiar warmth of Christian's gaze finding her almost immediately.
She offered a small smile, polite and measured, before turning her attention to the front of the church.
The service proceeded as it always did—hymns that she could sing in her sleep, scripture readings that she had heard since childhood, her father's measured voice rising and falling in his sermon about the importance of community and devotion. Mira let her mind drift, just slightly, watching the light play across the marble floor, counting the seconds until she could escape into the fresh air.
When the final amen had been spoken and the congregation began its slow exodus toward the fellowship hall for coffee and conversation, Mira slipped out the side door, her hat in hand, grateful for the breeze that immediately tousled her carefully arranged curls. She leaned against the warm stone wall, closing her eyes for just a moment, breathing in the scent of the garden that bordered this side of the church.
"You look like you're plotting an escape."
Mira opened her eyes to find Kate Astor approaching, her golden waves catching the sun like a halo, her bright smile as perfect as always. She was in a pink sundress that complemented her coloring, and Mira felt a familiar pang of something not quite envy—admiration, perhaps, or longing for Kate's effortless ability to be exactly who she was.
"Mama's asked me to help with the flyers for the summer picnic," Mira said, pushing off from the wall. "I'm simply gathering my strength."
Kate laughed, a bell-like sound that had men turning their heads. "I'll help. Ruby's already cornered Callum near the punch table, and Scott's talking to his father about something boring. I need rescuing."
They walked together around the side of the church, where a small table had been set up with stacks of paper flyers announcing the annual church picnic and various summer events. Mrs. Callaghan had already stationed herself there, her neat gray dress and sensible shoes a testament to her practical nature.
"There you are, darling." Mrs. Callaghan pressed a stack of flyers into Mira's hands. "Elliot is going to help you distribute these around the park, and Kate can help too. Try not to get any wrinkles in them—we want people to take them seriously."
"Yes, Mama."
Elliot Brown appeared at that moment, his dark hair still slightly damp from the summer heat, his white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows in a casual manner that Mira found herself appreciating more than she should. He had a kind face, open and honest, and when he smiled—as he did now—a dimple appeared in his left cheek that made him look younger than his eighteen years.
"Ready?" he asked, taking half the flyers from her hands. "I thought we could start near the playground and work our way toward the entrance. That's where most families will be lingering."
Mira nodded, and they set off together, Kate falling into step beside them with a knowing smile that Mira chose to ignore. The park adjacent to the church was already filling with families enjoying the morning sunshine, children running across the grass, parents gathered in clusters discussing the sermon or the weather or whatever else concerned them.
Kate was the first to approach a group, her natural charm winning smiles and promises of attendance. "It'll be such fun, Mrs. Thompson! I'm in charge of the cake walk this year, and you know how I love a competition."
Mira and Elliot worked their way through the crowd, handing out flyers, accepting polite conversation. Mira was aware of Elliot's presence beside her, the way he occasionally brushed her elbow when they walked close together, the low timbre of his voice when he spoke to the elderly Mr. Henderson about the upcoming men's Bible study.
It had been like this for months now, ever since the Browns had arrived in town and Elliot had become a fixture in their home. He was kind, intelligent, grounded in a way that reminded Mira of her father when he spoke of faith. And he was easy to talk to, in a way that almost no one else was.
"Mira, hold still a moment."
She turned to find Elliot studying her with a slight frown. Before she could ask what was wrong, he was reaching toward her, his fingers gentle against her hair.
"Your hatpin's come loose," he explained, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I can fix it, if you like. No mirrors nearby."
Mira felt heat creep into her cheeks as she nodded, standing very still while Elliot carefully worked the pearl-tipped pin back through her curls, securing the hat in place. His fingers were warm against her scalp, and she could smell the clean scent of his soap, something simple and masculine that made her stomach flutter in ways she refused to examine.
"There," he said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. "Good as new."
"Thank you," Mira managed, her voice coming out slightly breathless. "I can never quite get it to stay."
"It was perfectly placed," Elliot said, and there was something in his voice that made Mira's cheeks flush further. "You just needed a steadier hand."
They stood there for a moment, caught in something unspoken, before Kate's voice broke through the spell.
"Come on, you two! We've still got half the park to cover!"
Mira turned away quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and missed the way Elliot's gaze lingered on her profile. But Kate saw it. And Kate, who knew things and kept them close like treasured secrets, simply smiled.
From the shade of a large oak tree, Christian Patridge watched the exchange between Mira and Elliot with a jaw so tight it ached. He had come out the side door after the service, hoping to catch a moment alone with Mira, to ask her about the summer picnic, to see if maybe she would want to walk with him afterward. Instead, he had found himself rooted to the spot, watching Elliot Brown's hands in Mira's hair, watching the way she had leaned slightly toward him, the way her lips had parted in something that looked an awful lot like anticipation.
It was nothing, he told himself. Just friends. Just two people who happened to be thrown together because their fathers were colleagues. He had no claim on Mira, had never made his feelings known, had kept them locked away in the deepest part of his heart where even Callum couldn't find them.
And yet.
The jealousy burned through him like a fever, hot and unreasonable and utterly consuming. He wanted to stride across the grass, to pull Elliot away from her, to—
"Easy there, brother."
Callum had appeared at his side, his green eyes knowing, his expression carefully neutral. He handed Christian a glass of lemonade that he hadn't asked for, and Christian took it with a hand that was not quite steady.
"Don't know what you mean," Christian said, forcing himself to take a sip of the tart liquid.
"Of course you don't." Callum's tone was dry. "And I don't know why you're standing here glaring at a perfectly innocent interaction between two perfectly good friends."
"They're friends," Christian agreed, the words tasting like ash.
"Is that what we're calling it?" Callum asked, his voice dropping so only Christian could hear. "Because I've been watching them for months now, and friends don't usually look at each other like they're trying to memorize every detail. At least, not in my experience."
Christian turned to his twin, something desperate in his eyes. "What am I supposed to do, Callum? March over there and declare myself? I can't. It's not—it's not proper. She's Reverend Callaghan's daughter. I'm supposed to be a good example. I can't just... I can't."
Callum's expression softened with a sympathy that was rare between them. "You're already a good example, Chris. Probably the best of all of us, if I'm being honest. But being a good example doesn't mean you have to be a martyr. Mira's not a prize to be won, and Elliot's not your enemy. But if you want something, maybe you should consider actually doing something about it."
Before Christian could respond, Scott Mason appeared, clapping him on the shoulder with the easy familiarity of someone who had known him since childhood.
"Everything all right over here? You both look like you're plotting something."
"Just discussing the weather," Callum said smoothly, and Scott raised an eyebrow but didn't push.
Scott's gaze drifted across the lawn, finding Kate where she was laughing with a group of parishioners, her golden hair catching the sun like a promise. He watched her for a long moment, something soft in his expression, before turning back to the twins.
"Elliot's a good man," he said, and the comment was so out of nowhere that Christian blinked. "Solid. Grounded. Reverend Brown's done a fine job raising him."
Scott's blue eyes were impossible to read, but Christian understood the message anyway. It's not his fault. Don't make him your enemy.
"Of course he is," Christian said, his voice level. "We're all friends here."
Scott nodded, accepting the answer for what it was—a half-truth that they would all pretend was the whole truth. It was how things worked in their world. Politeness over honesty, appearances over reality.
"Good," Scott said. "Now, I'm supposed to meet Kate for lunch at her parents', but I wanted to check in first. You two have a good Sunday."
He walked away, broad shoulders and easy stride, the golden boy in every sense of the word. And from across the lawn, Kate looked up as if she had sensed his approach, her face breaking into a smile that made Christian's chest ache with a longing he couldn't quite name.
What would it be like, he wondered, to have someone look at you like that? Like you were the sun around which everything else orbited?
He thought of Mira, of the way she looked at Elliot—not like he was the sun, perhaps, but like he was a steady light in the darkness. And he thought of how she had never once looked at him that way.
Ruby Kenley was not a woman who enjoyed being kept waiting, but she had learned over the years that the best things in life came to those who could be patient. She sat on the edge of a stone bench near the church garden, pretending to admire the roses while she watched Callum Patridge make his way through the crowd.
He was a fine specimen of a man, she thought, all golden hair and green eyes and a smile that promised trouble. She knew that smile intimately, had felt its power in the dark hours of the night when they had both shed their public personas and become something rawer, more honest.
Their secret was a delicate thing, balanced on a knife's edge. No one knew. Not Mira, not Kate, certainly not Christian or Elliot or any of the others. And yet, there were moments—like now, when Callum caught her eye across the lawn and his smile sharpened with something private and promising—when Ruby wondered how long they could keep it hidden.
"You look like the cat who ate the canary," Kate said, appearing at Ruby's side with a glass of punch. "What's got you so pleased?"
Ruby schooled her expression into something more appropriate. "Just enjoying the sunshine, darling. Nothing wrong with that."
Kate gave her a knowing look, but she was too distracted by Scott's approach to press further. Ruby watched them together—the golden couple, everyone called them, and it was true. They fit together like puzzle pieces, two beautiful people who seemed almost too perfect to be real.
But Ruby knew that no one was as perfect as they seemed. She knew about the cracks in everyone's armor, the secrets that lurked beneath the surface. She had one of her own, after all.
Callum was making his way toward the garden now, his gait unhurried, his expression composed. He stopped a few feet away, nodding politely at Kate and Scott, before his gaze settled on Ruby.
"Miss Kenley," he said, his voice perfectly neutral. "Enjoying the morning?"
"Very much, Mr. Patridge," she replied, matching his tone. "The roses are lovely this time of year."
"Indeed they are." His eyes held something wicked that only she could see. "Perhaps you'd like to see the ones in the back garden? I noticed they were particularly vibrant this morning."
It was an invitation, carefully worded, easily dismissed. Kate and Scott were already absorbed in their own conversation, paying them no attention.
Ruby rose from the bench, smoothing her dress. "That sounds delightful, Mr. Patridge. Lead the way."
They walked together through the garden, maintaining a polite distance that told anyone watching that this was simply two acquaintances discussing floral arrangements. But the moment they turned the corner and were hidden by the trellis of climbing roses, Callum's hand found hers, pulling her close.
"You're a terrible influence," Ruby murmured, even as she leaned into him.
"Me?" Callum's voice was low, amused. "You're the one who seduced me."
"I was merely... enthusiastic."
"Enthusiastic," he repeated, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Is that what we're calling it?"
Ruby laughed, soft and genuine, and let herself enjoy the moment. They didn't have many of these—stolen minutes between church services and family obligations, brief moments of connection that had to be hidden from the world. But they had enough. They made do.
"We should go back," she said reluctantly, pulling away. "Before someone notices we're gone."
"They won't."
"They always do."
Callum sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're right. As always."
Ruby smiled, adjusting her dress. "Now, I'm going to walk back alone. Give it a few minutes, then follow. We can't be seen coming from the same direction."
"Rubies," he said, using her nickname in a way that made her heart skip. "When can I see you again?"
"Tuesday," she said. "Mira's having a small gathering at her house. I'll be there. You can... accidentally wander into the library with me."
"I'll bring a book," he promised, his smile wicked.
And Ruby walked back to the church, her cheeks flushed, her heart pounding, praying that no one would look too closely and see what she had hidden in her eyes.
The flyers were all distributed, and Mira found herself lingering near the old oak tree at the edge of the park, watching the crowd of parishioners slowly disperse to their Sunday lunches. Her mother had already left with her father, Declan trailing behind them with the resignation of a teenager who would rather be anywhere else.
"I should go soon," Elliot said, coming to stand beside her. "My mother's expecting me for lunch. She's made lamb, and she'll be devastated if I'm late."
Mira smiled. "I know that feeling. My mother has a schedule, and woe betide anyone who disrupts it."
Elliot laughed, a warm sound that made something in her chest loosen. "I've noticed. She's very... organized."
"That's one word for it."
They stood together in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the last of the churchgoers trickle away. The sun was higher now, the heat intensifying, and Mira could feel the humidity beginning to curl the edges of her carefully arranged curls.
"I had a wonderful time today," Elliot said, his voice softer now, more serious. "And not just because of the flyers."
Mira turned to look at him, her heart suddenly pounding. "I did too."
They held each other's gaze, and Mira felt the weight of all the things unspoken between them. She thought about the way he'd touched her hair, the careful attention he'd paid, the way his presence had become something she looked forward to, something she sought out.
She thought about how easy it would be to fall in love with him. How terrifying.
"Elliot," she began, but he held up a hand, his expression gentle.
"Don't," he said. "Not now. Not here. I want—" He paused, his jaw tightening. "I want to do this right. When the time is right. When we're not surrounded by a hundred people watching. Okay?"
Mira nodded, something like relief washing through her. She didn't know what she would have said if he'd pushed. She didn't know what she wanted anymore, not really. All she knew was that Elliot made her feel seen in a way that no one else did. Seen and valued and... something more.
"Okay," she agreed. "When the time is right."
Elliot smiled, and that dimple appeared, and Mira felt herself fall just a little more.
"I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting?" he asked. "Your father is hosting the committee for the summer revival."
"I'll be there," she promised. "Serving tea and looking appropriate."
"You're always appropriate," Elliot said, and there was something in his voice that sounded almost like a regret. "You're always so... perfect."
Mira felt a pang of something—frustration, perhaps, or longing. "I don't always want to be perfect," she admitted. "Sometimes I just want to be."
Elliot studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "I know," he said finally. "I see it. I've always seen it."
And without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Mira standing beneath the oak tree, her heart full and her head spinning, wondering if she had just been given a gift or a warning.
From the church steps, Christian watched the exchange between Mira and Elliot with a sense of resignation that felt almost like peace. He had seen the way she looked at him, the way she softened when he was near. He had seen the way they lingered together, the way the world seemed to fall away around them.
It wasn't a competition, he realized. It was simply... reality.
"Christian? Coming to lunch?"
Callum had appeared at his side, his expression concerned. Christian forced a smile, clapping his brother on the shoulder.
"Of course. Mother's been planning this meal for days. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
They started walking toward their family car, but Christian paused at the last moment, turning back to look at the oak tree where Mira still stood, her eyes distant, her expression thoughtful.
She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. But more than that, she was good. Kind. Generous in a way that had nothing to do with appearances or expectations.
And she deserved someone who could match that goodness, that kindness, that generosity.
"Come on," Callum said, pulling him gently forward. "Let's go home."
Christian let himself be led, burying his feelings deep where no one could see them. It was what he did. It was what he had always done.
But as they drove away from the church, he caught one last glimpse of Mira in the side mirror—and he saw Elliot Brown approaching her again, saw the way she turned toward him, saw the way her face lit up like the sun itself.
And Christian closed his eyes, and prayed for the strength to let her go.
End of Part One...
