Janet was troubled.
"I can feel It right in front of me, yet I just can't see It."
She couldn't figure out what was going on.
York smiled; the outcome didn't surprise him in the least.
As the saying goes, you can't look directly at God unless He lets you. So it isn't that you can't see— you're simply too weak, or your level is too low.
There are things ordinary people can't see, yet Janet or Lorraine can.
Go one step higher, and even Janet and Lorraine lose sight; only he can still see. That's all there is to it.
Put simply, your level determines what you can perceive and do.
Of course, Janet hasn't fully unlocked her gift yet; she's like a fledgling that can't spot the hawk overhead.
"It isn't that you can't see—it's that It is so powerful It blocks your senses."
Seeing the child-like confusion still on Janet's face, York couldn't help reaching out to pat her head.
"When you grow stronger, none of this will be able to hide from your eyes."
Janet more or less understood, but before she could speak the door suddenly opened, breaking her train of thought.
"Mom?"
Janet turned and saw Peggy enter; she greeted her first.
Peggy had worriedly opened the door to check, so the warm scene made her feel awkward.
"Uh, sorry—did I interrupt?"
She'd feared the talk might have gone badly and that Janet might leave the priest embarrassed, yet here they were, chatting pleasantly.
"It's fine, Ms. Peggy; I've asked almost everything I needed." York casually withdrew his hand, stood, and smiled at Janet.
"Child, it's lively downstairs. Come with me? Staying alone too long gives It a chance to slip in."
Janet instinctively looked to her mother.
Peggy pressed her lips and gave a gentle, encouraging nod.
Janet lifted her gaze again to the sturdy, reassuring priest.
"Can I really go out?"
York replied lightly, "Why not? I'll handle what comes next. You're free."
Hearing this, Janet glanced once more at her mother, then at York.
Understanding, York smiled. "It's all right—go."
Janet sprang up, no longer holding back, and rushed straight into her mother's arms.
"Mom!"
"Oh, my poor dear." Peggy's eyes reddened as she hugged her daughter tightly.
York stood watching, a gentle smile on his face… [17:24]
With York' arrival and the dispersal of the dark haze, the long-oppressive house regained its proper air.
Not quite laughter, but at least some vitality had returned—enough for a family of five.
Janet, Margaret, and the other three children sat on the sofa, chattering and hugging after their long separation.
Mother Peggy sat to the right, exhaustion on her face but maternal contentment in her eyes.
To the left, Ed spoke quietly with Maurice while Drew chipped in with jokes.
Behind them, the recently awakened Lorraine sat smiling. Thinking of something, she looked toward the priest in the corner.
That such a scene could exist in this haunted house was entirely the priest's doing, and Lorraine's gaze held admiration.
What she didn't know was that the admired priest was inwardly muttering as he stared at the sofa.
"How cowardly can a ghost be?"
Watching the faint, trembling figure still perched on the sofa, York shook his head, glanced back at Lorraine, and—seeing her looking—asked aloud.
"Lorraine, can you sense anything?"
She focused for a moment, then shook her head honestly.
"Father, I can't sense a thing."
York gave up with a sigh. "All right, we'll see tonight."
Lorraine couldn't help asking, "Father, do you think what happened here is real?"
Since waking she'd sensed nothing; everything seemed perfectly normal, as if no haunting had ever occurred.
"Yes."
York didn't hide his thoughts. From what Janet had let slip he'd pieced together most of the picture; only one thread remained tangled.
The ghost, Bill, was likely benign—enslaved and coerced by something far stronger to wear down Janet's will,
yet he held back, doing no more than shift her position or move a chair.
That stronger entity hadn't stopped at Bill; it had spawned a monster as a second wave.
But until Bill finished his task, the monster was confined to its own area.
Whether that entity was the Nun he couldn't be sure—though odds were good.
Still, it was only speculation; he needed to speak with Bill.
For some reason the ghost had stayed hidden all day.
York sighed, Drew a small Bluetooth speaker imbued with a trace of Spirit from his bag, slipped it under the sofa, and stood.
His tall frame Drew every eye; the room's mood shifted at once. Janet tensed, staring at him as though safety itself might leave with him.
"Father Yorkes, where are you going?" Ed asked.
"Just upstairs for a look; carry on."
York smiled back, especially at the anxious Janet, then headed up the stairs and out of sight.
"Is he always like this?" Maurice asked Ed.
"Yeah."
Ed looked resigned. "The Father goes his own way. Unless it involves carrying bags, he never needs our help."
Maurice turned to Lorraine.
She nodded firmly. "Father Yorkes isn't like us; all we can do is wait for his orders."