Authors: Dianne Harman
Sean awoke an hour and a half later and realized he was very hungry. He got dressed, ready to go to the refreshment area. As he walked out of his room, he turned left and inadvertently passed the door to the refreshment area. He heard the steady nearby thrum of some type of machine, possibly a generator. Sean thought they must need some type of backup electrical system in this desert heat. Whatever it was, it was getting louder. At the end of the sidewalk he saw a door with a sign on it that said "Basement."
Strange
, he thought,
I
didn't
think
there
were
basements
in
the
Western
United
States
and
especially
not
here
in
the
desert
.
Curious, Sean started down the darkly lit steps and saw two other signs that read "Danger" and "Keep Out," which were posted on a door at the bottom of the stairs. There was a lock on the door and the thrumming sound coming from behind the door was quite noticeable. He tried the doorknob, but the door was securely locked. He decided it was some heavy-duty equipment that powered the motel's air-conditioning system.
It
must
take
a
lot
of
energy
to
keep
an
air-conditioning
unit
running
in
this
heat
, he thought. He walked back up the stairs, turned to his right and immediately saw the light from the refreshment room.
Sean chose a chicken salad sandwich and some potato chips. The usually insistent voice that cried out for wine whenever he ate food was strangely quiet. The soft drinks in the cooler looked inviting. Sean took the food and a soft drink back to his room, once again enjoying the coolness the air-conditioning afforded. He reached into his suitcase for the latest novel he was reading, thinking that at least the library would miss him.
When
I'm
finished
I
better
send
these
books
back
by
FedEx
, he thought,
One more thing to put on my "things to do when I get to Southern California" list.
Sean spent the next two hours comfortably resting, feeling the stress of the day begin to leave him. He looked at the flask. It was one of the few material things that was important to him. His name and a cross had been etched on it, "Father Sean Moriarty." He might as well throw it in the trash. He was no longer a Father and he had sworn that as of tomorrow he wouldn't need the flask. Now it was just a bad reminder of the last twenty-three years of his life. He soon fell asleep, cooled by the air-conditioner and soothed by the slight scent of sandalwood in the air.
As long as he had been in the priesthood, he had awakened before daylight, spending the next few hours in prayer or service. He didn't need an alarm clock or a phone call. It just happened automatically. It was like God calling to him, saying, "Sean, it's time for you to wake up and start my work."
The next morning when he woke up at the Blue Coyote, he saw the sun shining in his window. His first thought was that he would be late for Mass. When he became oriented, he realized the sun looked like it had been up for hours. He checked the bedside clock, which read 10:00 a.m. He couldn't believe it. He hadn't slept that long in years and he felt very rested. The yearning in his groin that always preceded his desire for a new young boy was gone as was his craving for the morning wine at Mass. This was his first morning without Mass; his first morning as an ex-priest; his first morning without alcohol.
He hoped that this might be a new beginning. Maybe without the constant cravings he could find peace of mind, which had eluded him ever since he could remember. Maybe he was being given a chance at redemption. Maybe the God he had prayed to for so many years was indeed answering his prayers.
He took a shower, shaved, and quickly repacked the few things he had taken out of his suitcase. A little over 24 hours; was that all it had been? From the depths of despair to this wonderful feeling of hope? Well, he knew God worked in mysterious ways and this sure seemed to be one. Whatever was going on, he welcomed it with open arms and stepped out of the motel room, leaving behind the cool, refreshing air-conditioning of the room.
He put his battered suitcase in the trunk of his car and checked out. "Have a good day, Father," the beautiful young woman said. "Drive carefully."
Yes
, Sean thought as he turned onto the highway,
I think it's going to be a good day.
CHAPTER 16
A few months later, standing in front of the mirror as he went through the daily ritual of shaving, Sean thought back to how different his life was now from what it had been. The reflection in the mirror showed a man with smooth skin and clear eyes. The broken veins in his cheeks had disappeared and his former pallid complexion was rosy. He looked like a very healthy middle-aged man.
His abstinence from alcohol had caused many changes to take place in his life, surprising him more than anyone else. The first couple of weeks had been rough, no denying it. But strangely, as he stood here this morning, he had absolutely no desire for alcohol or the companionship of young boys. It was adjusting to a life that was not centered around the Church that he found so difficult. After a few days back at the family home in El Monte, he knew Thomas Wolfe had been right with his novel
You Can't Go Home Again
. As he had expected, the family's first born had not been warmly welcomed when he returned to the homestead. He needed to find a place where he could make a fresh start. The past was still alive in El Monte and he was no longer a part of that past.
Sean had remained friends with a couple of priests he'd met in seminary school who had been assigned to the Denver diocese. He had visited them several times over the years and discovered that he liked Denver. There was no denying the city’s beauty. While he'd never considered himself much of a physical person, he had enjoyed skiing the couple of times his friends had talked him into joining them on a short ski trip to the nearby Rocky Mountains. Denver was a city that revolved around skiing.
When he made the decision to leave El Monte for good, he called his old friends in Denver, mentioning that he had left the church for personal reasons and that he was thinking of moving to Denver. If they knew what had happened to him, they never mentioned it. They immediately asked him to come to Denver and help them with a charitable project. They explained to him that a large donor in their church had a family member who had been greatly helped by the treatment he had received at a counseling center. The donor wanted to set up a non-profit outpatient counseling clinic, but he didn't want it to be church-oriented. Since his friends were both Catholic priests, they could hardly open up a clinic and not have it be a part of the church, but Sean could. Very soon, he was on his way to Denver.
He couldn't believe his luck. Almost immediately upon his arrival in Denver, Sean found himself employed as the lead psychologist and director of the non-profit clinic his friends had told him about. Although it was not yet open to the public, it was nearing completion. Sean immediately became immersed in the numerous details involved in getting it ready to open its doors.
Just as the donor wished, it was to be non-religious in nature. There would be three other psychologists, one who would deal with young people, one who would deal with the large local homeless population, and one who would deal with individuals and families facing the challenges of Alzheimer's. Sean was to oversee the three psychologists and also be available for private consultations. It was similar to the counseling he had done as a priest, but the money was a lot better.
He bought a condominium with a view of the Rocky Mountains. It felt strange to have so many "things" after leading such a spartan lifestyle for so long. He needed furniture, kitchen items, and linens. For the first time in his life, he had to make decorating decisions regarding colors and motifs. He found he really liked to cook and spent many nights unwinding from the day in front of his stove, carefully following the directions of a food expert he had seen on TV.
But the strangest thing of all, the thing he still had trouble even admitting to himself, was that he was attracted to one of the female psychologists he had hired. Jeanne was her name and she had spent her whole life in Denver. She'd attended local schools and ultimately obtained a Master's Degree in Psychology at Denver University. She put herself through school teaching skiing during the winter months and working as a fly-fishing guide during the summer. She was in her early 40s, had never been married, was athletic, fit, and had the smoldering sex appeal of the classic American outdoor woman.
Sean first met Jeanne when he interviewed her. During the initial interview Sean mentioned that he had enjoyed skiing the few times he had been. He thought little of it until a few months later when Jeanne asked if he'd like to come skiing with her after New Year's. Jeanne said that was the best time to ski, right after the local schools had started back up after the holidays and the crowds on the slopes had disappeared. Sean told her he'd like to try it, but to remember that he was a beginner and she was an expert.
The day Sean spent with Jeanne on the slopes was one of the most enjoyable days he could ever remember. Jeanne's parents had been alcoholics and she refused to drink. Although Sean had no desire now for alcohol, it just made his developing friendship with Jeanne that much easier. Under her guidance, he discovered he was a passable skier. It was an enchanting day, a day that Sean would never forget. Several more days together followed, each just as enjoyable as the first.
As if to counterpoint how wonderful his new life was, occasionally Sean would wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat as he slowly came out of a nightmare from his past. Young boys and vodka – the remembrances terrified him. Whenever the nightmares occurred, he swore to himself that no matter what, he would never go back to that way of life. He would rather die.
Long ago Sean had come to terms with the fact that he was a homosexual. Now he was beginning to question it. Could it be that since he had been forbidden by the Church to marry or have sexual relations with women, he had simply found another outlet, one not suitable in mainstream society, but one that was often quietly condoned by the Church? Was that what had caused this compelling interest in young boys?
A couple of months after they had first gone skiing, Sean admitted to himself that he'd fallen in love with Jeanne and he knew he had to tell her about his past. To go any further in their relationship without telling her would not only be unfair to her, it went completely against the honesty that was integral to the counseling programs they sponsored each week. To take ownership of whatever your problems and shortcomings were was a very important element in healing and moving on. With that thought in mind, Sean invited Jeanne to have dinner with him at his home.
After a wonderful meal of braised short ribs, homemade bread, spinach salad, and a dessert of lemon meringue pie, Sean said, "Jeanne, there's something I need to tell you. Actually there are several things I need to tell you. The first one is that I love you. You've come to mean everything to me. I never thought something like this would happen to me, but it has. However, this may be the only time you'll ever hear me say that because the other things I need to tell you may destroy any feelings you might have for me." He wrung his hands as he spoke to her, clearly nervous and agitated.
"Sean, wait," Jeanne said. "If you're going to tell me how you were defrocked for seducing young boys and about your alcoholism, I know all about it. I had you checked out completely before I ever agreed to work at the clinic for you. I will also tell you that the man who did those things is not the man I've come to know and love. We all would like to change things in our past. You're not alone, but I love a man who cares about people, who gets up each day wondering how he can make the world a better place, a man who loves the beauty of nature and takes great pleasure in cooking. Sean, I love you for who you are now, not what you've been."
"You knew all about my past and you still agreed to work for me?" Sean asked incredulously.
"Yes," Jeanne said, "and I've been waiting for you to tell me you love me for quite a while. Come, you can begin to show me as well." Jeanne stood up, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom.
Sean's mind was spinning. She knew and now she wanted him to make love to her. He had never been with a woman. What if he made a fool of himself? Even if his past hadn't ruined the relationship, the next hour very well might.
Jeanne was no stranger to the carnal world and deftly guided Sean in the beginning. Sean's male instincts gradually kicked in and as the heat of the moment grew, with a willing and warm woman under him, he climaxed with guttural, animal sounds. Afterwards, Jeanne gently guided his hand, helping her to climax as well. Both were perspiring heavily as they lay in the warm aftermath of their lovemaking.
"Jeanne, I know it's sudden and unexpected, but I want to marry you. I'm not getting any younger; I know what I want and what I want is you. Please say you'll be my wife."
"Yes, yes, yes," Jeanne screamed. To his utter surprise, she jumped on top of him and rhythmically stroked him to a stage of excitement he had never experienced before, feeling the uncontrollable heat for the second time that night. When they made love again, Sean knew to hold back, letting Jeanne climax before he did. He thought he could become quite good as this. As they lay locked in each other's arms, Jeanne whispered to him, "When can we get married?"