A Beautiful Sin (14 page)

Our eyes connected, and I wondered what he was trying to say. I saw a man who had once been my crush and the attraction I felt hadn’t changed. With my anger dulled, it was hard not to notice his kissable lips. So when the bartender placed our food in front of us and Canaan said a blessing, I almost told him to pray for my inappropriate thoughts of him. And that was weird for me since I’d never done that before. Not wanting to bring attention to that detail, I bowed my head and said nothing while he prayed.

Between bites of his burger, he asked, “How was your afternoon?”

“Good. Well, you saw that I started another painting. By the way, the one I did—you know, the one you’re in?” He nodded. “It sold this morning.”

“Congratulations! That’s great news for you.”

I bit my lips to keep from smiling. “Yeah.” I was so freaking excited that I blurted out, “And you wouldn’t believe what the price point was.”

“What?”

Then I stopped and thought about what I was about to say. Why did I do that? It was not okay to announce things like that. It reeked of bragging. And that was the kind of information I did not want to share with most people, even Canaan, since we had only recently struck up a semblance of a friendship.

Before I had the chance to say anything, his perception clued him in. “It’s okay, Haven. You don’t have to tell me.”

My shoulders slumped as I grimaced. “I’m sorry. I should have never brought that up. It was a little boastful.”

“No, it wasn’t. You’re an up and coming artist and you’ve been discovered, so I think it’s something to be proud of. I don’t consider that boastful at all. I’d love to share your excitement with you.” He picked up his beer bottle. “Here’s to many more successful sales and beautiful paintings.”

We clinked bottles again and I thanked him.

“I’m actually surprised I caught you. I thought for sure you would be out.”

“Me, no, I would have picked up something and made an early night of it.”

“Really, I thought you’d be with your friend or someone else special.”

My head jerked at his statement. “You mean like Macie or a boyfriend?”

He chuckled. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Um, no. Macie’s busy tonight. And I don’t do the boyfriend thing.” My head quickly shook back and forth. I was pretty sure I looked like a dog shaking water off its body.

He raised a quizzical brow. “And why’s that? I would think you’d be chasing them away.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not and won’t ever be. That doctor, Wallace, you know, Aunt Kathy’s doctor? He asked me out this morning. I’m not sure how to handle that. He’s going to stop by the gallery this week.”

Canaan sat back in his stool and crossed his arms. His perusal of me made me squirm. “Why don’t you date? You’re young and…” He paused and I could see color rising in his cheeks. “You’re young. You should be out dating to find
the one
.”

“The one,” I scoffed. “Men aren’t trustworthy. They, well, they want things I can’t give. And I’m not going to put myself in a situation where I’ll feel trapped ever again.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

My lips pressed together as I remembered all those nights I heard Aunt Kathy. Shuddering, I looked Canaan squarely in the eyes. “I saw what Aunt Kathy went through. I won’t put myself in jeopardy of facing that. Her husband is supposed to be this great guy. Everyone thinks he’s wonderful. But he’s not.” I leaned into him and muttered, “The only time she could manage his temper was when they were getting it on. I heard it at night. I would put my pillow over my head to drown out the awful noises. No thanks.”

He rested his head on his hand. “Not all men are like that. Surely you know that. There are plenty of good men who would never hurt a woman. Kent isn’t good; I’ll give you that. And Kathy shouldn’t have stayed to suffer like that. But that doesn’t mean you would end up with someone like him.”

Without looking at him, I whispered, “My experience with men is on my terms.”

“Your terms?”

He was a priest. How could he understand that when I needed what a man offered, I picked them up, brought them home or went to their places for one night only? And that was it. I didn’t want anything else from them. They were of no use to me. I polished off my first beer and signaled for another.

“Nothing really. I don’t do long term, that’s all.”

“Will you make me a promise?”

The waitress arrived but said nothing as she sat my fresh beer down.

“Depends.”

“Are you going to go out with the doctor?”

“I can’t say.”

“You should go. Give him a chance that you haven’t given anyone else. Just one time at least. If you like him, then go again, but please try. He could be that one good guy.”

That made me laugh. Hard. “How the hell would you know? You’re a priest.”

“Just because I’m a priest doesn’t make me an idiot.”

The warmth of his smile heated me more than it should. Forcing myself to ignore it, I thought about what he said. He was right. He wasn’t stupid.

“Well then, tell me about your experience. How many girls did you go out with before you decided that the church would be your bride?”

His spine stiffened to the point I was sure it was made out of rebar. Two spots of scarlet appeared high on his sculpted cheekbones. Hmm. I’d hit on a tender point here. Had he been in love?

“None.”

His curt answer debunked my theory. So then why the reaction?

“None? Never?”

“Never. Zero.”

“You never had any interest in girls? Are you gay?”

The scarlet spots turned into a rosy flush that spread down his neck. There had to be something more to this.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested in girls. I only said I never dated or went out with any.”

“Okay, then how many girls did you kiss?”

He squirmed in his seat, and the flush faded a bit, but he answered, “None.”

“No girls, no dating, no kissing, anyone? What’s up here, Canaan?”

“I had a calling.” His voice was low and he looked at me oddly. He was so beautiful. I found it hard to believe a girl had never tried to kiss him.

“Calling? You should know that every girl in school crushed on you.”

“Every girl?” he asked with one sardonic brow raised.

I took a deep swallow of liquid courage, polishing off my beer before I set it down with a thud.

“Fine, I have a confession to make. Every girl seriously crushed on you, including me. You were the hot altar boy that all the girls wanted. That’s why this is so hard to swallow.”

We looked at each other, and when I thought he would laugh at what I’d said, he only stared with his lips slightly parted.

“I don’t know what to say besides I didn’t deserve any of the attention.”

“Does it bother you to have all that attention?”

He stared at me for a while. “As I said, I’m no better than anyone else. At that time, there were so many things going on in my head.”

I can’t say why I pressed this conversation other than the alcohol was fuel for my empty stomach.

“Do you regret not ever kissing someone?”

“I have a great many regrets.”

I knew I was going to hell and probably shouldn’t do it. But for some awful reason, I couldn’t stop myself. I rose out of my seat and leaned across the distance. I sank my fingers into his arms and pulled him toward me. Shock registered on his face a second before I pressed my lips against his. That’s all. It wasn’t an invasive kind of kiss, only the chaste kind.

My memory took me back to when I was young and dreamed of how my first kiss would be. I had this notion that my lips would tingle and my stomach would have a swarm of butterflies fluttering their feathery wings inside of me. In actuality, my first kiss was nothing but a gross, slobbery mess. This, however, was what my first kiss should have been.

In the short time our lips were fused together, my heart skipped, my belly danced as though it were filled with hummingbirds, and my skin buzzed as a current of fire zipped through me. When I dragged my mouth away from his, stunned could best describe how I felt.

My hand covered my mouth because I was certain I was mistaken. I couldn’t possibly have felt those things. Those were the things of fairy tales and romance novels, things I surely didn’t believe in, for I knew of life’s harsh realities. But when I opened my eyes, his forest green ones stared back at me with a potency that couldn’t be denied. One, two, and three blinks later convinced me my feelings were real and not the imaginary sort.

Finally, I spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” he whispered. He pulled out his wallet and grabbed some bills out. Laying them on the bar, he said, “Do you have a way home?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry, Haven. But it’s best if I go.”

My concentration over the past week had been a hopeless mess of scattered pieces. Bill must have thought I’d lost my mind, and maybe I had. My homilies at the Sunday Masses were disjointed and difficult to follow. The confused expressions on the faces of the parishioners told me far more than I needed to know.

One chaste kiss from a woman I barely knew knocked me for a loop, and I wasn’t sure how to pull the bits of my muddled brain together. Every time I tried to refocus, change my aim, all I seemed to recall were the softness of her lips, the lavender scent that surrounded her, and the way her fingers pressed into my flesh. I always
hated
to be touched
.
But not by
her
. Haven. A name that was so close to heaven.

Acting was my forte, concealing my feelings from the world, forced into it by Father O’Brien. But on Monday, when Bill was called out of town because of an ailing family member, I failed miserably at it. I knew he fretted about leaving everything in my less than capable hands. I assured him, with as much false bravado as I was capable of conjuring, that all would be fine, even though my self-doubts were monumental.

The following morning I made my rounds in the hospital, visiting a few parishioners, including Kathy Frederick. She looked like a completely different person and told me she would be going home the following day. What should’ve been happy news from her came across as being the opposite.

“Kathy, is everything okay?”

She nodded as she fumbled with her blanket. Not meeting my gaze, she asked, “Father, how should I handle Kent?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking.” Her eyes darted around the room, reminding me of a frightened rabbit. “Are you afraid of him?”

“He hasn’t hurt me since I’ve been sick.”

“Should I have a word with him?”

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Good Lord, no. That would surely set him off. If he ever knew I discussed this with you, that would be the end of me.”

I assured her I wouldn’t say a word. But then I added, “Perhaps you should let Haven know. She would be willing to help. And she will also want to know you’re being released.”

“Yes, I plan to call her right when I get home.”

I had the impression she only wanted a sounding board and nothing else. After I said some prayers for her, I returned to the rectory. Bill called several times to give me updates on his mother, but I was sure it was a cover for the real reason he called. He was convincing himself that everything was fine and I was able to handle things in his absence.

I went into the sanctuary to pray, as was my usual routine, because it offered me a place free from interruptions. Kneeling at the foot of the cross, I begged for forgiveness and to wipe the memory of Haven’s kiss from my lips. But the more I pleaded, the more my lips were seared with the branding of hers. Their ghostly impression remained, scorching me with their velvety touch. Worse yet, I wanted more. I wanted to explore the mystery behind them and that was sinful beyond measure. Lust was taking its wicked root in me and spreading its ugly tentacles, bringing forth all of Father O’Brien’s vile admonitions. Had he been right after all? Was I the temptation Satan sent? The only way to move forward was to pray—pray for help, for forgiveness, and to beg for God’s mercy on my soul.

As I knelt before the cross, my phone buzzed. I reached into my pocket and saw it was a text from our secretary. One of the parishioners was trying to reach either Bill or me. She indicated it was urgent, so I finished my prayers and walked over to the rectory. It was late afternoon, around four-thirty, and the late summer heat reminded me of the way Haven’s scent warmed my blood.

Brushing those thoughts away, I opened the office door, and allowed the air conditioning to cool my veins. Mary, our secretary, smiled and handed me a note.

“This gentleman called twice now. He sounds pretty desperate, Father.”

“Thank you, Mary. Did he say what he needed?”

“No, only that he needed to speak with either you or Father Cernak.”

“Okay, I’ll call him right away.”

I glanced at the slip of paper and the name sounded a bit familiar. Perhaps I knew him. Greg Clark. I tapped the numbers and waited for him to answer.

“Hello.”

“Mr. Clark? This is Father Sullivan. I understand you need to speak to me?”

“Uh, yeah. I do. Are you available now?” a shaky voice responded.