Surely his mother wouldn't object to his spending time with this girl. She was so slight, so frail, more like a little bird, really, than a girl. A little sparrow-yes, that was it. She was exactly like a tiny, underfed sparrow, and he longed to take her in his arms and feed her until she fell asleep, contented and safe in his gentle embrace. It was nothing lustful; it was more like the feeling you might have toward a beloved pet, a desire to take care of them, to nurture them the way you might a puppy, or any helpless creature. What could be the harm in that?
He screwed his face up and put his hands over his ears, as if that would drown out the voice in his head, but the voice burrowed all the way through to his eardrums, making him dizzy. The memory of that first awful humiliation played like a tape in his head, from beginning to end.
Sam-u-el! How could you do that? How could you touch that nasty, nasty creature, that filthy little harlot? How could you do that to me-to Him? Do you want to make Jesus cry? Do you?
The wooden figurine of Jesus on the cross above her bed looked down on him, disappointment carved into the wooden face. The tortured eyes implored him-him, Samuel-for help as if he could ease Jesus's suffering.
Sam-u-el! Look at me when I'm talking to you! Did you think Jesus wouldn't see you, wouldn't know what filthy thoughts you were thinking?
He didn't think his thoughts were filthy, but maybe he was wrong. His mother had said that the Devil disguises thoughts sometimes, to fool the sinner-maybe his heart was full of lust after all. He thought about the girl, so thin, so pale, her bones fragile as a bird's. Even her delicate little pointed chin had a beaklike quality. It didn't feel like lust, or what he thought of as lust, but how could he argue with God? Even worse, how could he argue with his mother?
He had to make the voice stop before his head burst. He had to make God happy, and he knew of one way to do that-thanks to his Master. He looked at his watch. It would be dark soon, and then his work could begin.