Fr. Luke had never felt the type of love that Clara was now showering on him; for a moment, he thought he saw Clara inching her way a little closer to kiss him.  No, it was just his imagination.  Her gentle hands brushed away the tears; for a second, he wondered whether or not Clara was really an angel in disguise.  He was feeling better; he had previously thought he needed to be strong for her, but apparently she could strengthen him sometimes too.<br/><br/>"Oh, I do not know if we can afford a gardener and such; I just needed someone to talk to."  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket to dry up the rest of his tears.  With that, he firmly, yet affectionately, grabbed Clara's hand in appreciation for her consoling words and smile.  But he shouldn't have done that; his body and face became very hot.  He realized he might be taking too many liberties; perhaps she would notice and get offended.  His body also romantically responded and although he knew she wouldn't realize this - he knew it and god knew it.  And if his Bishop ever found out, he would be assigned somewhere else so that he would never see Clara again.<br/><br/>Regaining his composure, he asked:  "Instead of me sitting behind my desk, can I sit with you while we eat lunch together?  on your side?"<br/><br/>"I'm sorry Clara; I didn't mean to put all of this on you.  I really just wanted to â€¦ well, enjoy your company for a little while.  Do you know what the loneliest part of being a priest is?"