A Beautiful Sin (10 page)

“That’s not what I’m doing. I only want to open your eyes and fill them with the light that should be there.”

A rueful laugh busted out of me. “Oh, don’t worry. See these blues?” I directed my thumb up to my eyes. “They were opened at the ripe old age of eleven.”

Canaan hung his head for a second. “There are things…things you don’t know.”

I swiveled in my seat to glare at him. His face was in shadows, though I could see the lines furrowing his brow. The purple smudges beneath his eyes sketched a picture of insomnia. I recognized the signs of this ailment, since I’d suffered from it for years. There were times when I wouldn’t allow myself to fall asleep, afraid
he
would come into my room and beat me for the hell of it.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you said that before.”

“It has to do with why I told you what I did that night.” Then he hit me with those eyes of his—deep green and dark as a stormy night. I found myself leaning into them, almost falling into their depths. “I thought I was protecting you.”

“There you are! I was looking for you in the dining room.” Macie’s voice interrupted what he was going to say next.

I was rattled, to say the least. Macie leaned down to hug me, and I felt like I was on another plane. When she stood up, she asked, “You okay?”

“Fine. Let’s go.” I jumped off the bar stool.

Her eyes darted back and forth between Canaan and me, but I refused to supply her with an explanation. Not then or there anyway.

As we walked away, I glanced over my shoulder to see Canaan’s eyes following us. Guilt rained over me. His mouth was slightly open as if he had more to say, but I didn’t give him the chance. Was it because I didn’t want to hear, or was it because I was afraid he may deserve my forgiveness?

“Who was that? And why is he a priest, for fuck’s sake?”

“I can’t answer the second question, but as for the first, he’s Canaan Sullivan. From Holy Cross.”

“No! Really? He’s that Canaan?” She glanced over my shoulder to look at him again. “The boy everyone crushed on in school, including you, who ended up crushing you?”

“The same.”

“He sure has grown up,” she said wistfully.

We arrived at the hostess station, so the rest of the story had to wait until we got our table, which only took a few minutes.

Once we were seated, Macie struck again with wide mischievous eyes. “So, don’t leave me in suspense. You know I can’t stand that.”

My hand moved to my forehead. I knew this was going to be painful. “He showed up at the gallery.”

Her jaw dropped, which was the same feeling I’d felt. “What? You’re joking?”

“Why would I joke about that?” I asked. Macie craned her neck. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get another look at him. You rushed me out of there. I didn’t get a good chance to really check him out.”

My jaw would’ve hit the table had I let it. “So, one, he’s a priest, for Christ’s sake. You don’t check out priests, Mace. Two, that’s totally creepy, so stop.”

“No, it’s not creepy. He’s still hot, maybe even hotter if that’s possible. But why would someone so good-looking become a priest in the first place?”

My hands flew up in the air. “How the hell would I know? I mean, maybe he loves his faith and the church. Have you thought about that?”

She sank into her thoughts and nodded. “I suppose so, but I never gave it much thought. I always thought of priests as sort of stodgy and nerdy. He is none of those things. Although wasn’t he an altar boy or something? But damn, did you get a look at his biceps? He must work out a lot.”

It might have been the fact that I agreed with her that my head started to pound. Still, I couldn’t keep up with all her thoughts with my own in a chaotic state. “How the hell did you manage to notice all of that in, what, two or three glimpses? Are you the body detective or something?”

“Or something. So go on.” She waved a hand to get me to talk.

“Go on?”

Macie huffed. “Yes. The gallery.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I told you about seeing him a few weeks ago. And he showed up today. Said he read the interview and wanted to see my work. He did say there were things I needed to know about that night.”

“Hmm. Interesting. Maybe he likes you.”

The glee in her eyes was recognizable. She got it every time there was a guy she thought would be perfect for me.

I gave her an exaggerated eye roll. And it made my head hurt worse than it already did. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“But it’s true. Why else would he stalk you?”

“He’s not stalking me. And he’s a priest,” I said slowly as if she hadn’t seen or heard me earlier. “He took a vow of celibacy and all that.”

Macie squinted at me while giving me a shrug, dismissing my words. “Then why did he come here?”

“I don’t know, but he was here when I got here. So there. No stalking.” I felt like sticking my tongue out at her, but refrained.

The waitress came and took our order. But that didn’t deter Macie one bit. She jumped right back in where she’d left off.

“Then it’s that damn Catholic guilt they ingrained in us at Holy Cross. He feels bad for sending you away that night.”

I rubbed my head again. “I know, but can we get off this subject? What’s done is done. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. But I do want to show you something.” I pulled my phone out and showed her my painting.

“Oh…oh…Haven. When did you do this?”

Although Jonathon had praised me, I knew it because he saw it as saleable. Macie’s wide-eyed wonder was truth I could trust.

“I started it a week and a half ago and finished today.”

“Jesus. It’s giving me goosebumps just from your phone. I can’t even imagine how I’ll feel when I see it in person.”

Suddenly, all the emotion I’d felt while painting wanted to rear its ugly head through sobs. I blinked furiously to ease the burn of tears that threatened to spill. Macie looked up at me and saw raw emotions exposed.

“Hey, babe, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said with a shake of my head.

She knew me too well for an answer like that to get past her.

“Don’t bullshit me. You and I have been around way too many blocks together for that.”

“Mace, I don’t really know. That painting, take a hard look at it and tell me what you see.”

That had been what I wanted to ask her about.

Her eyes searched mine for a time and then she did what I asked. Her fingers spread the picture, enlarging it so she could study it better. “Well, shit. It’s Holy Cross. And is that Canaan when he was young?”

“Yeah, and that was me. Only you probably couldn’t tell since it’s my back facing you.”

“So, this piece of art is the result of your anger at him for what he did?”

I tossed a hand in the air. “You might say that.”

The waitress brought us our food then, but I wasn’t sure I could eat a bite.

Macie reminded me of a ravenous dog as she dug into her cheeseburger. “I’m sorry, Have, but I’m starving.”

“No, eat. That’s why you ordered food.” I was glad someone was hungry. I picked at mine.

“You know what I think?” she added.

“You’re going to tell me anyway, so what?”

“You need to talk to him and hear him out. If he says there are things you need to know, then you need to listen to what he has to say.” I went to say something, but she held up her hand. “Wait, I’m not finished. He’s a priest, Have. He’s not going to spin a web of lies and tell you some trash like you’d expect from others. He’ll tell you the truth. Go to him and give him the chance.”

I chewed on her words and maybe she was right. But I wasn’t ready to accept that.

“I don’t know, Macie.”

Before she could answer, a dark shadow loomed over our table. I looked up into the deep green eyes of Father Sullivan.

“Father,” I breathed.

“Haven. Once again I regret upsetting you. That was never my intention. I hope you have a good evening.”

Macie kicked me under the table.

It was enough to spur me to speak. “Um, I was wondering if there would be a time we could talk.”

The way his eyes popped told me more than I needed to know. His hand trembled as he handed me a card. It was white and simply said in plain black letters, Father Canaan Sullivan. Directly beneath his name was his phone number.

“You can reach me at this number, day or night. Have a good evening, ladies.”

Going to the gallery was a mistake, but I’d felt drawn to it as if a siren had lured me there. Looking at her paintings was an even bigger one; it was as if she’d painted my soul. The expression she captured on my face, the pain reflected in my eyes—how could she have known? But then she couldn’t have. She must’ve pulled it from her memory, from that long ago day. I stood on the platform, waiting for the train, so consumed by my chaotic ruminations of the beautiful and talented woman that I never heard the L pull in.

“Mister, aren’t you getting on?” a voice asked behind me, taking me out of my internal confession.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I moved through the open doors.

Falling into the seat, I reflected on my memory of that piece of art. Her vision of that fateful day included a stormy cloud-filled sky, as if lightning were about to strike. I got the impression that Haven was sending a message to me. She wanted the heavens to strike me dead for what I had forced upon her for all those years.

The impending issue was how could I explain myself without revealing my personal truths? Or did she deserve the knowledge of my shame in payment for how she’d been wronged? What would I say to her if she called? I couldn’t possibly expose the truth. But I couldn’t lie either. The spinning web of deception grew larger every day. First Bill and now Haven. Soon I would be wrapped in a cocoon so massive, I would be trapped by my own falsehoods. What kind of a priest was I?

I wiped the sweat off my brow and stuck a finger under the neckline of my shirt in an attempt to loosen it. The saintly collar that used to bring me comfort and even joy had turned into a noose and threatened to crush my trachea. I reevaluated my role as a priest. In the little time since I had returned to Holy Cross, my life had taken a one hundred and eighty degree turn.

A grim-faced Bill greeted me when I walked in the rectory door.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Kathy Frederick’s condition has become unstable, and she’s been hospitalized. I’ve been at the hospital with her this evening, and I told her you’d be there sometime in the morning, if your schedule is open. You have the six-thirty Mass so I thought you could go sometime afterward.”

Kathy had been diligent in her attendance at Mass since my arrival a few weeks before. We’d spoken a few times before she’d gotten sick in the last week.

“That’s awful. Of course I can go.” Immediately, I thought of Haven. “Hadn’t her condition improved some?”

“She’d been stable, but apparently her lungs seem to have worsened.”

“I see. Is she critical?”

Bill shook his head. “No, not critical. It looks like her disease is progressing and affecting her heart now too, though. It’s times like this, they often like to have more than one priest to talk to.”

“Yes, that’s true.” It was terrible news. In our short acquaintance, I’ve found that Kathy was a lovely person. “I’ll be happy to go in the morning.” I wasn’t sure if Haven even knew her aunt was sick. “Thank you for letting me know. I wonder if I should notify her niece.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot her niece is in town. By the way, how was the gallery showing? I forgot you went tonight. Did it live up to the expectations of the newspaper article?”

“It was actually better. You should go while she’s here, Bill. Her work is really something. I studied art a bit in college, and what I saw tonight was extraordinary.”

Bill tapped his forehead with his finger. “I’ll have to remember to do that. When I ran into her at the church, she told me she’d be in town for several months. And she was so pleasant. Not to mention she’s a former student here.”

Bill obviously had had a different experience with Haven than I had. But then again, he wasn’t the one who sent her home to live with her abusive uncle. So she probably was pleasant to Bill, unlike her caustic attitude toward me. “I’ll try to contact her in the morning. I’m off to bed then.”

As I turned to leave, Bill reminded me that I was on call that night. We took turns for call when the rectory office was closed. The office phone would automatically be diverted to our individual cell phones.

As I made my way to my room, I recalled I didn’t have Haven’s number. She only had mine. However, I had the number of the gallery where her art was displayed. I would call there in the morning.

Bill headed toward his room, leaving me to my troubled thoughts. Not only did I have to come up with something to tell Haven about that day I sent her away, I had to inform her of her aunt’s failing health. Not knowing how close they were, the idea of telling her troubled me.

Sleep eluded me, as it often did. My knees ached after hours of praying, and each tiny movement brought burning pain on my back, reminding me of the welts from my self-inflicted atonement. I still couldn’t calm my thoughts. The idea that I’d caused harm to someone else stirred ugly emotions in me. If I hadn’t been so selfish with my own needs, a young girl might have gotten the help she needed.