The begging, pleading and clinging were enough to test and nearly destroy John's resolve right there. This was no good, it wasn't. He should call it all off.
But doing so wouldn't banish what had gripped his daughter, wouldn't save her soul. His faith was lacking, it had been for years since his wife had walked away, and there was a part of him, Catholic taught, that said this was not a punishment or test of Ruby, it was a punishment and test of himself. His was faith being tried, to see if he could believe that God would be salvation.
His mind said believe and God's will would be done. What felt like his heard already strained to believe to save his daughter. But there was the small, dark part that rebelled against all of this, and had only quieted somewhat when he had spied the strangely-marked carpet. The feeling of deja-vu had come swiftly and fled just as swiftly, but it had been enough to tell him that this was, in the end, 'right'.
He held Ruby closer a moment to two longer, listening as she spoke with the priest, marveling at her bravery through all of this. She was strong, stronger than whatever was inside of her, and she would make it through this. She would, or he'd throttle that priest right here and now.
Still robbed of words, other than almost nonsensical murmurs of comfort to Ruby, and feeling as though it was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life – and truly, perhaps it was, as what could be harder than willingly sitting to the side when harm could come to one's child – John kissed the side of Ruby's head one more time, squeezed her tight and then slowly let go.
Before he could chicken out and throw the priest out of the house, he crossed to the chair, but rather than leave it in the corner, he drug it close and sat. He was closer, but still mostly out of reach of Ruby and out of a path of movement around the rug to leave the priest room to work, and it was the only concession he could bring himself to make.