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"What's the deal with those candles?" Raylan asks in a whisper. The service hasn't started yet, but it seems sacrilegious to speak at full volume in here.
"What, the Advent Wreath?" Tim asks back, voice hushed as well. "It's for the four Sundays of the Advent season."
"Why's one pink?"
"That Sunday's different or something," Tim says offhand. "Didn't you ever go to Sunday School?"
"It's been thirty years," Raylan protests. It'd been a scandal when the Givenses stopped going to church, but their reputation was already bad enough that it didn't really affect Raylan much.
"Jesus, you're old," Tim says with a laugh. He does not look penitent about taking the Lord's name in vain, not even inside the church.
Raylan just scowls.
The service starts soon after that, and Raylan gets caught up in trying to figure out when he's supposed to sit, stand, or kneel. He doesn't even bother trying to pray along, the words to even familiar prayers subtly different.
Actually, it sounds like a good portion of the congregation doesn't know the right words, either, and a lot of the call-and-response gets weirdly jumbled.
"Did they change the words recently?" Raylan whispers while everybody is exchanging blessings.
Tim rolls his eyes. "Like five years ago," he says. "These fuckers just don't go to Mass often enough."
Tim's sister, Julie, on his other side, whacks him in the shoulder. She doesn't say anything, but they make faces at each other until Tim raises his hands in surrender. They both sneak glances at their mother, who is acting oblivious to their silent communication.
It's weird seeing such ordinary family interactions. Especially coming from Tim.
Soon, though, people are leaving the pews and lining up. Raylan makes to follow the folks next to him, but Tim grabs his arm.
"Sit down," he says quietly. "We can't receive Communion."
Raylan frowns but does as he asks. "Why not?"
"You 'cause you're a Protestant heathen," Tim answers, "and me 'cause I haven't been to Confession since last blowing someone's brains out."
Julie has sat down as well, and Mrs. Gutterson passes by them.
"Plus we're living in sin," Tim notes, once his mother is out in the aisle. As if she doesn't know.
"Is the priest gonna make a big deal about it?" Raylan has vague memories of his grandfather, and that man would absolutely stop the service to rail against specific sinners if he felt like it.
"What? No," Tim sounds incredulous. "We just can't get Communion. Technically, we could go up and get a blessing, but it'da taken a second to explain how to do that."
The rest of the service goes by pretty quickly, once the whole congregation cycles up to get the little wafers and sips of wine. There are a few dreary songs, and then everyone is leaving.
Tim makes him stay through the last song, even though the other folks in their pew make their way out. He's singing along without referencing the hymn book, and while his voice isn't amazing, it's beyond endearing.
Raylan just really likes him.
Finally, the song ends and the Gutterson family heads for the lobby. It's still far from time to leave, apparently, as Tim's mother starts to chat with other older women, and his sister makes her way to the restroom.
"Hey, what's the deal with those candles?" Raylan asks, pointing back into the church proper, where a set of small red glass vessels sits. An elderly man is lighting one of the candles and bowing his head.
"Oh, you light those to say a prayer for someone," Tim answers easily. "Alive or dead, doesn't matter."
Raylan hums in thought, eyeing the praying old man. "Why's religion always involve so much fire?" he asks idly.
Tim shrugs. "Fire and water, man," he says, seeming distracted.
This whole experience has been a strange side to Tim that Raylan's never seen before. He's still not what one would call "reverent," but he's oddly serious and engaged with all this. Before now, Raylan would have laughed at the idea of Tim being at all religious, but it's clear it really does mean something to him.
It's weird.
Now Tim is shaking hands with the priest who led the service. "Hey, Father Brady," he says, and then he gestures to Raylan. "This is my. . ." He frowns and glances between Raylan and the priest. "My guy," he decides on, "Raylan Givens."
The older man has round, thin-framed glasses that he peers through to look over Raylan. His scrutiny doesn't feel judgmental, and it doesn't seem like he's about to burst into Bible quotes, either. He just seems like a person wearing very fancy robes.
"It's nice to meet you, son," the priest says finally, extending a hand.
"Likewise, Father," Raylan responds, instinctively falling into good manners.
"The Father here used to think I'd make a good priest," Tim says, and Raylan can't hold back his bark of laughter at that thought.
Father Brady smiles indulgently at that. "I seem to recall recommending a monastery, as well," he says mildly.
"Sorry I chose to kill people instead," Tim says, sounding weirdly genuine.
"We all have our own vocations," the priest says solemnly. Someone across the room catches his eye, and he finishes the conversation by saying, "I hope to see you Christmas morning, Tim."
Tim nods and says goodbye, and finally they make their way out of the church building. They wait a few minutes for Julie and Mrs. Gutterson, then make the short walk down the block to the Gutterson family home.
It's a cute little three-bedroom, one-story with a basement and a small fenced-in yard. Mrs. Gutterson's little bulldog sits outside in his doghouse, despite the chill in the air, and he lets out a single bark to acknowledge his owner's return.
Raylan feels ravenous, suddenly, and volunteers to help in the kitchen preparing the late breakfast. As he and Mrs. Gutterson get to work, Tim and Julie settle into the living room.
Julie has brought her Xbox, apparently, and soon the sounds of sibling competition and futuristic weaponry filter into the kitchen. He grabs out a measuring cup under Mrs. Gutterson's direction, and it all just feels unbearably domestic. More than it ever felt the whole time he was married to Winona.
He glances at Tim's mother, sees the deep lines in her face, and thinks of the little he knows about Tim's childhood. His father. This probably wasn't something he ever had growing up, and Raylan's glad he gets to have it now.