Jason spent most of the next day helping Brother Brendan, the monastery business manager. It was his favorite assignment at the Abbey, and he was going to miss it.

Brother Brendan was just a few years older than Jason. He had an MBA from Northwestern University, and he had worked in the Chicago office of a New York investment firm before entering the religious life at the age of 30. Now, he was doing an excellent job handling the monastery finances, under adverse conditions.

The Abbey of St. Laurence was one of the few monasteries that still operated its own farm. In addition to growing corn, the monastery also had a small winemaking operation. And it produced honey under the watchful eye of Brother Timothy, who was in charge of the most docile colony of bees Jason had ever seen.

But life and business at the monastery had been thrown into turmoil last spring, and Brother Brendan was still working to get things back to normal.

It all started just a couple of weeks after Jason arrived. A tornado swept through the area--destroying some of the monastery outbuildings, and damaging much of the property. One of the buildings leveled by the twister was the small office where Brother Brendan did his work. The monastery computer system, already somewhat outdated in the ever-changing world of technology, was now a total loss.

There was insurance, of course, but not enough to replace everything at once. Gradually, the damaged and demolished structures were being re-built one by one. The computer system would be one of the last things to be replaced--if and when it was financially feasible. In the meantime, Jason’s laptop had proven invaluable.

Helping to get the monastery back on solid ground again was a major reason Jason had stayed so long. He got a lot of satisfaction out of the work he was doing there. But he was able to admit to himself that it wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t moved on yet.

He was in a comfortable cocoon--able to take life one day at a time, in a place where no one expected anything more from him than a day’s work. No one asked him any questions. No one really depended on him, for that matter. The monks, especially Brother Brendan, were grateful to have his help. But they had gotten along fine before he arrived, and they would after he left.

No, Jason was still at the monastery because he hadn’t felt able to face up to his own conflicts yet. But each day, more and more, he was wondering if it was time to return to Port Charles--to the life, and the loved ones, he’d left behind.

That night, shortly after sunset, Jason paid a visit to the monastery chapel. It was the place he always came to when he wanted to think and reflect. And he’d been doing a lot of that, especially in the last few days.

The monks came here to pray four times a day--at 5:30 in the morning, a couple of hours later for morning Mass, at noon, and again at 5:00 in the evening. Visitors were always welcome to join them. But except for Mass on Sunday, Jason preferred to come here alone.

The chapel always reminded him of Queen of Angels Church in Port Charles. He and Emily took Michael there on Sundays, and even Sonny was a regular. It was one of the many contradictions in Sonny’s life: he could make his living in a world of violence, but still find time to attend services and pay for a new church organ.

Jason remembered so well the day Michael was baptized at Queen of Angels. It was supposed to be a private ceremony, but before it was over it seemed as if half the town was there. All the Quartermaines showed up uninvited. Edward, in particular, disrupted what should have been a dignified, sacred observance by complaining that he didn’t want Michael growing up as a “papist”. Even Jason’s sworn enemy, Anthony Moreno, was there. And of course, Carly arrived just it was all ending.

Carly. There she was again. Never far from his thoughts. He didn’t even try to stop thinking about her any more. It was useless, so why fight it?

It had all seemed so final that day he left. Even as he reassured her that he could never see her in trouble without trying to help, he dashed her hopes for anything more.

She denied it, but he refused to believe her.

He tried to put himself in her place now. How had she felt when she heard him insist there was nothing beyond friendship between them? Those words had echoed in his head for months.

He thought he meant that. He thought what he did that day was the right thing--letting her down as easily as he could, then leaving.

Now, after months of reflection, he was questioning everything he said and did.

He was pretty sure now that he needed to move on--and this time, it would be a move back home. But he had to talk to someone first.

***

Father John Patrick O’Brien turned the pages of his book as he waited for Jason to return to the guest house. He wondered what the young visitor wanted to discuss tonight.

They were meeting in a parlor at the guest house because silence was still a big part of monastic life--especially at night, when radios and televisions were kept off, and there was no talking within the monastery itself except in cases of emergency. The Abbot realized that whatever it was Jason wanted to talk about, it must be important.

He looked up as the door opened, and Jason came in.

“Hi, Father. Thank you for coming over. I hope it’s not a problem.”

“No, Jason. I was just re-reading an old favorite of mine, T.S. Eliot’s Murder in the Cathedral.”

Jason seemed surprised. “Somebody got murdered in a cathedral?”

“Yes, St. Thomas Becket.”

“Did they ever find the guys who did it?” Jason asked curiously.

Father O’Brien smiled. “I doubt it. It happened in the 12th Century, and the murder was ordered by King Henry the Second.” He paused. “But something tells me you didn’t call me because you wanted to talk about English literature or the lives of the saints.”

“You’re right about that, Father,” Jason replied. He thought it was pretty unlikely that his own life, or those of most of the people he knew in Port Charles, would ever be described as saintly.

He sat down in the chair opposite the Abbot. “I’m thinking it’s probably time for me to leave.”

Father O’Brien nodded, then asked, “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

Jason looked down, trying to find the right words to describe what he was feeling. The Abbot waited patiently for him to continue.

“Father, when I left home, I said a lot of things I thought I really meant.” He paused again. “But now, I’m not so sure. Everything just seemed so permanent, you know? Like, it had to be done -- so I did it. I thought it was the right thing for everybody. I thought it was my responsibility.”

Father O’Brien nodded again, then asked, “Have you changed your mind now?”

Jason paused a long time before answering.

“Yes.”

The priest waited patiently again for Jason to continue.

“There’s a--a woman, and a little boy.”

“Your son?”

“Not by blood. But in every other way, yes.” He waited to see if Father O’Brien would question him about that, but the Abbot said nothing. “I want to go back. I want to see if the three of us can still have a life together.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I left her thinking I didn’t feel the same way she did. I told her what she wanted was never going to happen. I told her to find somebody else!”

“And you’re afraid she has?”

Jason looked down again, then asked, “When you tell somebody it’s over, you can’t take it back, can you?”

The Abbot smiled. “Well, it’s not something I have much personal experience with. But yes, I think you can take it back. Or try to, anyway.”

Was that a glimmer of hope he saw on Jason’s mostly unreadable face? Father O’Brien tried to find an example to illustrate his point. “Look, Jason, if Brother Brendan came to me tomorrow and said he’d met a woman and wanted to leave the religious life, I wouldn’t try to stop him.”

“Where would Brother Brendan meet a woman?” Jason asked.

“It’s just hypothetical,” the priest replied quickly. “What I’m trying to say is, nothing is forever. Except God.”

As Jason tried to digest what the Abbot was saying, Father O’Brien continued. “I asked if you were afraid she’s found someone else. Are you?”

There was another long silence. Then Jason finally answered, “Yes. The last thing I want is to make things worse for her. Or her son.”

This time, it was the Abbot who thought long and hard about what he said next.

“Jason, I think you know there are no guarantees in life. But if we all held back when we were afraid of the outcome, no matter how altruistic our feelings are, nothing would ever happen. Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith.”

Looking at Jason’s face now, Father O’Brien could tell the message hit home.

***

There was an envelope waiting on Father O’Brien’s desk when he went into his office the next morning. Inside the envelope was a large amount of cash, and a short message.

“I hope Brother Brendan can get his new computer system.” The Abbot smiled as he read the next sentence. “Unless he meets that hypothetical woman.”

Father O’Brien said a prayer of thanks for generous benefactors, and for everyone trying to find what was lost.

***

Jason had left a goodbye note for Brother Brendan, as well as the Abbot. Now, he was behind the wheel of his truck, heading north on I-57.

He would stay on that road till he got to the Chicago area, then link up with I-90, which would take him all the way to upstate New York. He would be home sometime tomorrow.

Jason was absolutely sure now that he was ready to take that leap.

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