A Beautiful Sin (31 page)

As I watched the skyline of Chicago disappear in the distance, I wished it were as easy for Canaan’s image to vanish from my mind. Only I knew different. In all likelihood, it would take the rest of my life for that to happen.

Seeing Haven at communion was like watching a scene in a movie. Only I wasn’t an actor and the church wasn’t a theater. Her cerulean eyes were dulled with what? Sorrow? Regret? And the darkening patches beneath her eyes saddened me even more than I already was. I didn’t want her to feel remorse or guilt for what had passed between us. I could have stopped it but chose not to. The fault was mine to bear, not hers.

My request for a leave of two weeks had been gently denied. Bill requested I delay it until after the holidays, which I understood. Burdening him with my issues wasn’t an option. He had enough on his mind with his aging and sick parents. He didn’t need an added problem. January would be here soon enough and so would my visit to see my mentor, Father Tony. It would mean a difficult month, but hadn’t my life thus far been difficult? What were another few weeks in the scheme of things? 

Time coasted by. Haven hadn’t returned to church. What should have been a blessing felt like a curse. I did my best to show good faith, to be the man—the priest—I was supposed to be. At night, my self-flagellation and oratory diatribe of memorized prayers did nothing to ease my inner burden. Tears and blood didn’t cleanse my soul as my dreams were filled with heated memories of things I shouldn’t want with a woman who wasn’t mine to have. But my routine continued on and I did what I could with half smiles and few words.

When Thanksgiving arrived, I spent the time with my parents feeling like the fraud that I was dressed in priest’s clothing as I blessed the food. Mom noticed and kept asking me how things were. As much as I tried, they both observed my behavior was off. My attempt to cover up my emotions failed.

Before I left, Mom pulled me aside and wanted to know if it was Holy Cross I wasn’t happy with. When I tried to convince her otherwise, she asked if maybe I was dissatisfied with the priesthood altogether.

My jaws snapped shut so fast, my teeth clattered. I didn’t quite know what to say. So I did the only thing I could think of without telling a lie. I answered the question with a question. “Mom, why would you ask that?”

“Well, sometimes people make mistakes. They think they want something and when they get there they realize it wasn’t quite what they expected. I can imagine being a priest is lonely. No one to share your life with and a lot of responsibility.”

She was right on both accounts. But I hadn’t found myself lonely until I’d met Haven. “It’s a burden I willingly took on.”

“You’re not an island, you know. You should visit more. Your dad and I would love to see you.”

I was an island, but only for Haven, though I could never divulge that secret. “I’ll try. I’m so busy, there isn’t much time.” Which was pretty much the truth. “I have been under some stress with a few things going on that I’m not able to discuss. But don’t worry, Mom.” I pulled her in for a hug. “I’m fine.”

“I’m your mother. I’ll always worry.”

If she only knew the truth, her anxiety level would shoot to the stratosphere.

“At least growing up I wasn’t running around drinking and getting into trouble.”

She ruffled my hair, like I was ten again. “No, not my Canaan Michael. Always a saint, you were. But too serious at times. Promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“If you find you need to talk, you’ll come home. I’m still your mom, you know.”

She was my mom. And I loved her enough to not burden her with the shame of what I’d gone through. I couldn’t imagine ever telling her what a sinner I truly was. It would crush both of them, and I simply couldn’t do that.

“I do know, Mom. And I love you too.”

God had blessed me with great parents, indeed. Now if I could be the man I masqueraded as instead of the sinner I truly was, maybe God would forgive me.

Back in my room, I sat staring at the painting Haven made of me. What remarkable detail she was able to capture in each pane. I was more than a man, more than a priest in her eyes. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone saw the true person I was. She saw me. Had that been the reason I’d confessed to her? I hadn’t told my parents or my mentor, and I’d known them for years. Yet somehow, she’d stripped down every wall, and I’d unburdened myself on her. And for that reason she showered me with kindness and affection. She gave me what was so precious in God’s eyes, a gift only to be shared between husband and wife.

I shouldn’t want that again and did my best to expel those thoughts and memories from my head. But being joined with her had made me feel alive, made me taste life for the first time in years. The moon and a sky full of stars suddenly had meaning. She was my North Star when I stared into the night. I wanted to pray that she was well, but I felt like God wouldn’t hear me. Not when my thoughts of her were at best impure.

How could I continue to walk the line of priest when my heart desired coupling with her again? Fornication was no longer a dirty word on my tongue. It was the dawn that brightened my day and filled my dreams at night.

What I could do and did was pray for forgiveness for thinking ill of the dead. Father O’Brian had been right about me all along. I should have heeded his warnings about my carnal inner nature and the effect it had on others. I didn’t deserve to walk with God. I was a sinner, nothing more and nothing less.

The weather turned bitter cold bringing in winter on a sled. My trip back to Chicago was in ten days. I would arrive on December twenty-fourth and stay until January third due to Macie’s urgings. It wasn’t like I had anything going on here anyway. I was still vacillating on what to do. Staying in New York seemed to be a good choice because it was far away from Canaan. Far away from the temptation of seeing him and shredding our hearts into fragments, even more so than they already were. Returning to Chicago worried me because every corner or restaurant would bring back memories, even if I hadn’t been there with him. The fact that he was so close would be a reminder that it was possible for him to show up any time. On the other hand, my success as an artist would improve greatly by returning to the Windy City. And now that I was supporting Aunt Kathy, I had that financial burden to think about.

The plane ride back to New York and lack of sleep had to be the cause for why I hadn’t felt well over the last week. People and their germs. And guess who didn’t get their flu shot? Macie gave me crap about it, but being sick made me not want to make a decision either. What made things worse was thoughts of Canaan induced a serious case of insomnia. When I dragged my normally energetic but now exhausted ass out of bed for the eighth day in a row, that was what pushed me over the edge, sending me to a doctor to get some meds.

****

Macie met me at the airport on Christmas Eve. She picked me up in her mom’s SUV because we were spending the evening with her family. They’d even invited Aunt Kathy to join us, which was awesome. We had a sumptuous dinner that Macie’s mom had really gone all out on and it was wonderful. Around ten, I took my aunt home. I asked her if she wanted me to take her to church the next morning, but she informed me she’d gone to the five-thirty Mass earlier in the day. She was getting along great living by herself and her health had improved. Even her cheeks were rosy and she’d gained some much needed weight.

“Then I’ll be over tomorrow in the afternoon to spend Christmas Day with you. It’s great seeing you looking so good.” I said my goodbyes around eleven fifteen and headed toward Holy Cross. I was going to Midnight Mass.

As usual, the church was packed. It was beautifully decorated with Christmas trees on the altar along with lots of greenery and poinsettias everywhere. The manger was adorned with evergreens as it sat prominently poised on the altar, and I thought how symbolic it was. I was not comparing myself in any way to the Virgin Mary. The thought itself was laughable and sacrilegious all at the same time. But I did feel that sense of isolation and loneliness that Mary and Joseph must’ve felt the night Jesus was born in the stables.

The processional began with the many altar servers, deacons, and then the two priests. I’d taken a chance in coming, because I didn’t know for sure if Canaan would be here. I assumed only because Midnight Mass was so well attended, and I was counting on that.

He looked splendid dressed in the pure white vestments with gold trim. And I could barely pull my eyes away from him, even from my distant seat in the corner. My responses during the Liturgy were automatic, as I supposed any Catholic’s would be, after years of attending church as part of my education at a parochial school. The Christmas hymns were a nice distraction and I sang along as they lifted my spirit in celebration. All too soon, the Mass had ended and the attendees filed out. Cheerful as they were with the holiday spirit, I was left alone in the empty church. The altar servers came and went as they cleared everything as part of their duties. I lit a vigil light in memory of my mother and said a prayer for her as I thought of my upcoming conversation.

At last it seemed I was the only one around, and I heard muffled voices in the sacristy, which I presumed were Father Cernak’s and Canaan’s. I pretty much hid as I watched Father Cernak leave. I was counting on Canaan locking up. No, I was praying for it.

When he exited the sacristy and walked up the center aisle, I stepped out of the shadows. He didn’t see me at first, not until I entered the light.

“Haven. What…why are you here?” He glanced around nervously.

“It’s not what you think.” The ache in my throat grew to a painful level, but I shoved it aside. “I need a few minutes with you if I can. And then I’ll be gone. I promise.”

His mouth, his beautiful mouth, opened and closed, and then he nodded. With an extended arm, he gestured toward one of the pews. But I declined.

“I’d rather stand, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

My hands were clasped tightly together, held in front of me as I began. “First off, I want to tell you how terribly sorry I am for what happened…for what I did.” He held out his hand to stop me, but I ignored it. “I should have never allowed things to, well, you know. That was beyond wrong of me. But that night, for whatever reason I had in my head, I thought I was helping you. Now I can clearly see I was mistaken. Here’s the thing, though.”

I stopped for a moment and inhaled a bucketload of air. I concentrated on my clutched hands. I was afraid if I chanced one look at him, everything I planned to tell him would turn into a jumble of messy words.

“For every action we take, there are always consequences. And my biggest one was I allowed my heart to get wrapped up where it had no business being. But then there was another one. I was stupidly careless. Our night together resulted in something that will have a lasting effect.” I glanced at the manger near the altar again and hoped to sustain my bravado, which I sensed was slipping through my fingers. My arms wrapped around my body and I hugged myself as I hunched over.
Deep breath, Haven.
“You see, Canaan, I’m going to have a baby. The reason I’m telling you is because you have a right to know and not for any other. I have no expectations of you whatsoever. This secret is safe, so you don’t ever have to worry about it. I won’t come back here, unless my aunt asks me to bring her to church. She won’t know who the father is. That’s my solemn oath to you. I won’t cause you any more grief.” I had to stop because my voice cracked and I forced back the tears that stung my eyes. “I won’t cause trouble since I’ve pretty much ruined you as it is. And I won’t interfere in your life anymore. Again, I can only say I am sorrier than I can ever express.” I didn’t wait for him to respond. I spun and walked as quickly as I could and met the car that was waiting for me in the parking lot.

The Uber driver must’ve thought I was crazy because I wept all the way home and was so thankful Macie was spending the night at her parents’. There wouldn’t be any questions or interrogations. I crawled into my bed and sobbed myself to sleep, hugging my pillow, worried about what kind of a mother I would be.