A Beautiful Sin (6 page)

It was weird being back. The skyline was different, but the city itself was so much like New York—busy and never truly asleep. But being so close to home haunted me. After a few days of settling in, Macie talked me into calling my aunt. Macie’s mom told her that she’d run into my aunt and she hadn’t been feeling well.

As much as I hated my uncle, my feelings for my aunt were different. She hadn’t set out to make my life miserable and had tried when she could to make my pitiful existence better. Weak and frightened were the best ways I could describe her through my adult eyes. And who was I to judge her because she couldn’t stand up to her husband? She had been his punching bag as often as me and had intervened during many of the times he beat me. I would learn later that she used sex to calm him or entice him away from me. If not for that, I wasn’t sure how I would’ve survived. In retrospect, she most likely put herself at great risk doing what she did, only I was a kid and didn’t understand that at the time. Since I’d moved, I had traded a few holiday text messages over the years, but if Kent hadn’t been in the picture, I would’ve done a lot more. Back in the city, I texted her that I wanted to see her. I didn’t have to specify that I didn’t want to run into my uncle. Her response stated he’d be working the day shift for the next two weeks. He was usually gone by eight in the morning.

Because I would soon be busy with the gallery, I took a chance and stopped by in the morning. Only, after taking the elevated train, or the L as it’s known, and a bus, I arrived to find his cruiser parked out front. Not sure what to do, I walked away, not wanting to stand at the bus stop near their house as I made my decision. I ended up walking farther and passing Mom’s old house and was struck once again by her loss.

Even after all this time, the overwhelming sense of her absence lassoed me and pulled me to the church without conscious thought.

I stood staring at the spire when a hand touched my arm and nearly scared me out of my skin.

“Sorry to scare you, my dear. I’m not as spry as I once was.”

At first I saw no one and had to glance down until I saw a tiny older woman. To my artist’s eye, I beheld a face sketched with kind lines that revealed her age, much as tree rings did. A warm smile greeted me from beneath her nun’s habit.

“It’s okay,” I reassured her.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways, and it looks like he sent you to help me. Would you mind going in search of Father Cernak to help bring in donated baked goodies?”

I nodded, and she moved exactly the way her shoes sounded—squeaky, slow, and steady. I almost offered to open the front doors of the church when her very shaky hands were taking forever. I headed through the church in search of the priest. After finding the sanctuary empty, I decided to make the sacristy my next stop. Before I could knock, the door swung open and a tall guy in dark pants and a button-up shirt burst through with a light mist of sweat on his brow.

“Can you help me?”

His head moved side to side causing his hair to dance with his movement. “I’m sorry,” he spit out and disappeared before I could say any more. A flashback, déjà vu, or a distant memory from years ago hit me, and then it wisped away as a voice intruded upon my thoughts.

“Hi, can I help you, miss?”

Unlike the first guy, his face was kind and genuine. “Um, yes, if you’re Father Cernak.” I glanced back at the retreating figure. Something struck a chord, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“I am.”

I shook my head, bringing my attention back to Father Cernak. “One of the nuns asked for help carrying things in.”

I felt sort of silly. I should have helped her myself. But when we found our way back outside, the extra pair of hands was needed for the amount of baked goods that needed to be brought in.

“Oh, Sister Grace, I see you brought the food for the soup kitchen,” Father Cernak said.

“Yes, and the bakery gave us so much more than I anticipated.”

Father Cernak turned to me and said, “We run a soup kitchen here on the first Saturday of every month for lunch. This is our day and Sister here has picked up all the donations. Would you mind helping us carry this into our cafeteria?”

“Not at all.”

“And I didn’t catch your name,” he said.

“Oh, I’m Haven Richardson. I went to school here at Holy Cross.”

His face lit up. “How wonderful. Do you live around here then?”

“No, I’m here temporarily for a gallery showing of my art work. But I came to pay my aunt a visit.” I explained who Aunt Kathy was.

“Oh, I know Kathy. She’s a wonderful parishioner,” he said with such a kind smile.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I returned his grin.

“So, your aunt wasn’t home at this hour?”

“The truth is, after I came all this way, I became a little nostalgic and decided to pay a visit to the church first, and then light a vigil candle for my mom. She died when I was only eleven and was a parishioner here.” My deflection served its purpose.

“Oh, I’m very sorry.” His frown felt kind and not pitying, and his voice carried deep sincerity. “You must’ve been devastated.”

“Yes. I still miss her very much.”

Father Cernak stopped walking and touched my arm. “Haven, that’s not something a young child easily dispenses. I’m sure it still touches you. If you ever feel the need to talk, I’d be happy to listen.”

I liked the man, which surprised me. I wasn’t usually endeared with anyone so easily. His warmth and kindness thawed my bitter heart with those few simple words, and to like someone was one step closer to trusting them. And trust was a rare thing for me.

“Thank you, Father. I’ll keep that in mind.”

We walked toward the cafeteria again. It took us a couple of trips to get all the donated food inside, but when we were finished, Father Cernak and Sister Grace thanked me profusely.

Waving away their unnecessary gratitude, I said, “It was nothing, really.”

“Haven, will you join us for Mass sometime while you’re here?” Father Cernak asked.

The question caught me off guard because I hadn’t attended Mass in years. He read the hesitation in my expression.

“Don’t feel pressured, but I thought if you were here, you might want to pay a visit with your aunt.”

The pause lasted too long, and I blurted out the words, “Oh, I don’t know.”

He was thoughtful when he said, “Can I ask you something?”

I knew he was going to dig a little deep. But how could I have refused a question from him?

“Sure.”

“Do you still go to church? And it’s okay if you don’t.”

I stared at my shoes when I answered, “Not really.”

He didn’t chastise me, or condemn me to the fires of Hell, like I thought he might.

He only said, “Many people have their reasons for walking away from the church, and I suspect you have yours. You may find that as you get older your ideas change, so I hope you don’t walk away from it forever. But I would also add that one should never be forced or pressured into going to church. Maybe while you’re in town, you’ll visit us here for our Saturday evening service. Just remember something, Haven—God loves everyone, no matter what.”

I finally pulled my eyes away from my feet, which no longer held any interest for me, and glanced up at Father Cernak. His light brown eyes were compassionate and sincere, and for some reason, he made me stop and seriously consider coming back to attend Mass.

Smiling, I said, “Maybe I’ll take you up on that, Father.”

“I hope so. You have yourself a good day, Haven. And thank you again for your help this morning.” He shook my hand and I walked away, feeling as though I had encountered a true man of God.

As I walked toward the bus station, again I passed by my old house. My steps slowed and Mom’s voice came to me from years ago. Then I remembered running through the door, that awful day she died, and finding Aunt Kathy and Uncle Kent there. Welcome to my new house of horrors. I picked up my pace and passed my old Hell. Uncle Kent’s car was there, so I just continued on to the bus stop. It would have to be another day that I visited my aunt.

On the ride to Macie’s, my thoughts traveled back in time. The run-in with the guy with green eyes had me thinking about that day I’d come to church looking for help. Anger boiled as I thought about the inconsiderate but beautiful boy who’d sent me packing. There was something about the guy who fled the room that reminded me of him. But that couldn’t be. There was no way he was a priest, so why would he be in the sacristy?

When I returned to Macie’s, she was just getting up with her hair plastered to one side of her head.

She yawned before she spoke. “You went all that way for nothing?”

“No,” I said absently. I was thoughtful for a second “Not for nothing. I met a priest who might have returned my faith in mankind.”

“Really?”

“No,” I said, laughing, “but he was easy to talk to.”

“The new guy?”

“New guy?”

“Holy Cross has a new priest because Father O’Brien died. That’s what my mom said.”

“Father O’Brien died?” I remembered him. He’d been the one I’d wanted to reach out to. My mother thought so highly of him. And he’d come to visit her a couple of times when she was so sick and couldn’t go to Mass.

“Yeah, he like tripped and fell or something. Had a heart attack.” She waved the thought aside and moved to the coffee maker.

“Well, I met Father Cernak. Is he new?”

“No, he’s been there a while.”

“He’s was really nice,” I said. “I don’t know, Macie, but I might go to Mass. And you know me, I’m not a church person at all.”

“Yeah, everyone loves him. He’s been great, I think. But I don’t pay too much attention when Mom talks about it. I haven’t attended Mass since probably last Christmas, or was it New Year’s? But they just got a new priest to help Father Cernak after Father O’Brien died. But I can’t remember his name.” 

“No rumors about him?”

“None that I’ve heard. Why?”

“While I was there, I ran into this guy. He could be the new priest. He left in such a hurry, I can’t be sure. But he reminded me of that asshole, Canaan, who told me to scram that time I went to the church to get help.”

“Have.” She placed a hand on mine. “I haven’t heard anything. And if the new priest used to go to school with us, that would be like big news Mom would have shared with me.”

That was true.

“I guess so. If I ever run into him, I would have some choice words for him. None of them would be good to say in a church.”

“It would get you banned from church.” She chortled. “Anyway, why’d you think it was him?”

“He was pretty hot. Remember how we practically drooled over him when we were, what? I think it started in the fifth grade or something?” We both cracked up. “But there is no way he’s a priest. I mean, a guy like that could get anyone he wanted. Most guys that hot are full of themselves and not the Holy Spirit.”

She laughed and so did I.

“Have you seen him? Canaan?” He might not be the priest, but he could still live in the area.

“No, not since he graduated. He, like, disappeared. Wherever he went for college, he never came back. Of course there were rumors. Everybody claimed they had a secret love affair with him. I don’t know. He seemed so shy for a guy who looked the way he did.”

As hot as he had been, I had to let it go. My childhood crush had crushed me. And he was no longer important. He was a stain on my life I should have washed away a long time ago. I wouldn’t give him another minute of my thoughts. I switched gears back to Uncle Kent.

“Oh. Whatever. But yeah, the devil was home by the time I got there, so I’m going to go another time.”

“Maybe you should just confront him.” My hands instantly rubbed my arms. It was something I did all the time back in the day. Macie caught it. “Forget I said that.”

“No, you’re right. It might as well be while I’m here. My therapist told me I needed to confront my fear of him one day.”

“You’ve held on to this for far too long. It’s fucked with you, and it’s time for you to kick it the hell out.”

I chewed my nail as I thought about what she said. She was right. It needed to be addressed. The question was, would I have the nerve to do it when the time came or would I wither up like a dead flower?

Macie nodded in what I imagined was agreement. Then she said, “Since you’re back so early, why not grab some breakfast?”

“Sure, why not.”

We went to a local place around the corner and filled our starving bellies with yummy food. Macie was a foodie, so she knew all these great local places to eat. I had an amazing omelet and she ordered sweet potato pancakes that I tried to steal from her.

“Oh, God. I’ve died and gone to heaven. I’ve never eaten anything this tasty,” I said, stabbing and filling my mouth with another forkful of her pancakes.

“I told you this place was awesome.”

“I don’t know how you stay so skinny.” I looked at her, as much as I could with the table between us.

“Running. You should try it.”

“What? Am I fat?”

“No, you fool. It helps with stress and you’re always loaded with it.”

I dragged my fork though my omelet as I thought about what she said. She was right. Stress ruled my life and had since my mom died.