Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved
Read Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved Online
Authors: Tiana Laveen
Copyright © 2013 by Tiana Laveen
All rights reserved.
Published by Tiana Laveen
Book cover design by
Travis Pennington
Edited by Natalie G. Owens
KINDLE EDITION
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE LOVED
Please Note: Though this book is not classified as erotica, it does involve the following subject matters/topics/ideals, which may be offensive to some audiences: religion – particularly the Catholic faith as it pertains to priesthood. It also includes detailed sexual and intimate depictions of a consenting couple and a host of situations that are adult in nature. This book is not intended to encourage or discourage those in the Catholic faith. It is a love story that deals with the human experience in its totality.
~***~
SPECIAL THANKS
I would like to give a special thanks to the following people who assisted me with vital research regarding the writing of this novel:
Tracey Aloe Hansen
,
Kari Zebracki Drotleff
,
Kristen Stockwin Evangelista
, Natalie G. Owens, Krystyn Mansfield, Candace Joyner Giles,
Michelle Kovach
,
Michelle Wiss
, Kerry Hernandez,
Nanchetta Cat
, Shivon Ozinga and
SuzProtz
.
Thank you all so very much from the bottom of my heart!
This book is dedicated to all the laicized Catholic priests, Catholic support groups that tackle the delicate subject of priests and marriage, women and priests who have fallen in love but were unable to stay together due to religious regulations or fear of stigma, and to everyone who wishes for these rules to be removed. Man-made laws are not always beneficial, and sometimes, we have to put our pride aside, look at the bigger picture and see what love
truly
is, with new eyes and insight. When you
know
better, you
do
better...
When I sat down to write this book, I kept telling myself, “You are going to get in serious trouble.” Though it is a work of fiction, I fully understood as a person that stays up on current events that there are three subjects in the world that people kill for: Race/Ethnicity, Power/Hierarchy/Classism, and Religious/Spiritual beliefs. Some would even argue the first two are actually tied together. If you want to start a storm, those are your three best bets and here I was, grabbing two out of three and telling a love story to boot. As I was approximately 75% finished writing this piece, the news broke with a special announcement: Pope Benedict resigned. This has happened to me a time or two before. I will be in the middle of something, my WIP (Work in Progress) in full swing, and then the very thing I am writing about becomes ‘top news’. I took this as a sign to,
yes,
tell this story, and let the chips fall where they may. Due to the sensitive subject matter, I felt it was imperative that I speak to devoted Catholics, as well as do my own research. Some of the people I spoke to were actual friends. I knew the nuisances touching their lives, shared with them both personal matters and more mundane, run-of-the-mill conversations. We were ‘friendly’, so to speak, so it made getting the information much easier. I then took time to study the world of a priest and there is no one story for each man who has this vocation, and falls in love. Everyone of the stories I found is different, just like you and I, but the testimonies I read during my research regarding such matters were at times heart breaking, inspiring, or danced somewhere in between. This book is about love. It is about acceptance and dissecting oneself to get the message and receive the answer to the old adage,
“Why am I here? What is my purpose?”
It is about finding beauty in the presumably socially and politically hideous and acceptance of the seemingly unforgivable. It is the story of an intelligent, devoted, attractive Catholic boy who grows into a man, but not before being crippled by the weight of others personal demons resting on his shoulders and when he can stand straight and tall, the world around him looks vastly different than from his previous stooped position.
There are real ‘Fr. Danes’ in the world. I respect them, and wish for a day when, like the hero of this story, they will no longer be pressed up against a wall to make such a choice between love, and, well...love.
Thank you,
Tiana Laveen
There she is again, her hair giftwrapped in that thickly enfolded black fabric that smells like my incense and wafts past me while I’m on my knees...
Yes, I’m on my knees again, God. This time, praying not for you to forgive me, but to release me from the demons that make me second guess myself. I have a feeling I should be praying for something else, but of exactly what that should be, I’m not sure. All I can do is think about her. She now interrupts my dreams. One dream in particular stands out the most...
I knelt before her, at the altar of her lap while Amel Larrieux sang, ‘For Real’. She was singing that song one day in the park, and it became the soundtrack for this odd fantasy. Running her soft, brown fingers through my hair, real slow, she laughed...you know the laugh, the one that is light and airy, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A laugh that is loose and free, like invisible birds flying off into the sunset. I looked up at her, God, and I saw her smiling down at me, like she’d found some lost money and couldn’t wait to spend it. I’ve never felt as weak as the moment I looked into her dark eyes, and realized,
she had me
.
My God, she has me,
all
of me, and my only prayer to you, Lord, is...please don’t
ever
let her let me go...
The cracked concrete walls and the sound of plopping water drops hitting worn linoleum in the time-worn gym room shower created the perfect ambiance for Dane to start his ritualistic torment of the newbie. Not actually
torment
, but an initiation of sorts—an act of kindness disguised as fraternal mockery. The guy was close, and fear was eating him alive as if he were a two-legged buffet fit for a famished tiger. Dane needed to help—he’d seen this hurdle one too many times before from so many of the men right before they finished seminary study. Cold feet, fright and the adrenaline rush sent more than a few into an emotional frenzy.
Dane ran a finger along his chin, feeling the prickly hairs he’d shave away as soon as he returned to the parish rectory. He cocked his head to the side, watching the man in front of him move jerkily, his nerves appearing to be getting the best of him. Assessing the situation, he devised a plan on how to proceed, waffling between two approaches—humor as an icebreaker or bravado? He scanned the pale, bright-eyed young man from the corner of his eye and caught his own reflection in the water streaked mirror several feet away before turning back to speak to Douglass.
“I see what you have there, a Playboy magazine. You actually brought that in here? That sure is a lot of nerve.” Dane’s shrouded his face with his warm, moist palm, hiding a massive grin. The soapy scent on his hand infiltrated his nostrils as he absorbed the moment he had perfectly laid out for his own pleasure to open the flood gates of productive discussion.
Good, a laugh. Perfect icebreaker.
“Fr. Caruso!” Douglass hooted, turning crimson as he leaned against the silver gym locker with the rolled periodical under his arm. “This is Time magazine, thank you. I’m a man of distinction. I like to read it while on the treadmill.” He pointed toward the closed door that led to the exercise equipment. His green eyes sparkled as he flaunted a coy smile.
“Call me Fr. Dane,” he reminded. “Yeah, ya don’t say?” Dane smirked as he tightened the white, stiff towel around his wet frame, the trickles of cool water from the shower beginning to dry. “Are you meeting up with all of us at the restaurant tomorrow night?”
The tall, lanky and freckled Douglass looked over his shoulder. His eyes dimmed as he shook his head and gave a half-hearted grin. “I don’t have a choice,” he shrugged. “I finish seminary classes in one month, Fr. Caruso, I mean, Fr. Dane. I know I am expected there. I can’t rock the boat.”
“Mmmm hmmm...So, what is the scariest part of it for you?”
Douglass sighed. “The bishop will be there.”
Dane nodded. “Yes, Bishop Thayer will be in attendance.”
“I’m afraid I’ll be so nervous in front of him, I’ll say something stupid. I have to stay on top of this, I want to make a good impression, you know? I want this so bad, I can taste it.”
Dane shrugged. “Well, what do you think would happen if you didn’t show up? You could opt out and save yourself the ribbing.” Dane opened his locker and removed the small container of roll-on deodorant.
“Nah, I can’t.” The twenty-three-year-old shook his head. “It would look bad.”
“Probably,” Dane said. “That’s my point though. Don’t run away, run toward the unknown when you know you are doing the right thing. It’s scary; I was in your shoes, but you’ve got nothing to be afraid of. Bishop Thayer is a really nice man. Relax. Believe it or not, we have a heck of a lot of fun.” Dane smiled as he ran his fingers over the back of his head.
Douglass shoulders slumped as he took a few deep breaths, then gave a nervous grin and grabbed his beaten and bruised navy blue gym bag.
Dane turned away and quickly dressed, sliding a dark sweater over his bare chest, and repositioning the golden crucifixion a
nd matching gold chain over his torso. He tossed a glance back Douglass’ way. The guy was sick with worry, even after the pep talk. The archdiocese had a way of causing fear even in the most brave, and here the poor guy would be with the bishop and all the priests, under their watchful eye, in one room.