But every night left less and less doubt as to whether Thomas had the same feelings. He touched Xavier more often, he leaned a little closer, and he gazed into his eyes the entire time without looking away. Xavier, too, occasionally stumbled closer to Thomas in order to feel him nearby. Every time, Thomas maintained their proximity or moved to catch Xavier, deliberately fondling his arms or chest in the process. Xavier admitted a great deal of naiveté, but regarding Thomas he understood that Thomas longed for him as well.
And here came Thomas into the garden at last. Xavier swooned at the sight of his familiar, broad shoulders, almost racing into the grasp of Thomas’s arms every time. And the calves, those glorious, well-defined calves, nearly bursting out of the black tights. Regardless of current fashion that put men in colorful costume, Thomas always wore black and somehow, it suited him.
“Thomas,” Xavier greeted him, barely containing himself.
“Xavier.” Thomas gripped his shoulders and they kissed on the cheek. When Thomas pecked Xavier’s left cheek, however, he held the priest close to him, his lips lingering longer than they should. It was maddening.
“I’m glad you came again,” Xavier said, pulling away before he did something he regretted.
“I thought we agreed not to doubt that anymore,” Thomas said as Xavier waited for him to sit on one end of the bench before sitting on the other. This time, however, Thomas slid over to the middle.
“You look like you have something to tell me,” Thomas said. “Your eyes betray you.”
The abrupt comment startled Xavier. He liked it better when they chatted for a while about the weather, people, and what they saw around them. But Thomas often went directly to the point, or, as on this occasion, read Xavier’s mind.
“Nothing new, really, it’s just my family. It’s silly to dwell on it. I worry about them constantly. I had breakfast with Michel this morning. He won’t listen to me regarding Catherine. I think that I calmed him enough for now, but I’m not sure how long he can respect her freedom.”
“How did he treat you?”
“The same. Of course he had to bring up my parish. But it was nothing unusual, just another bitter parting that will heal until he decides to scold me again.”
“Forget about your brother. You make a wonderful priest right here and don’t need to move unless something calls you to do so.”
“Thank you.” Xavier relaxed in Thomas’s presence, in the solid comfort he derived from him.
“Is that all?” Thomas asked.
“Really, yes. I mean, I can’t stop thinking about them, I mean—”
“Stop it. Just tell me.” Thomas gently grasped Xavier’s shoulders, creating instant excitement.
“I’ll try. I wish you’d tell me more, though. I feel like we always dwell on me.”
“I told you about myself already. I lead a dull life. I honestly have no worries that consume me. But I’ll bargain with you. You confess what plagues you, tell me the honest truth, and I’ll divulge the one thing that haunts me.”
“Agreed,” Xavier said, surprised and intrigued. “I suppose that it’s part of being Catholic, especially being a priest, so I’m not sure you’ll understand.” He sighed heavily. “I always feel guilty. I told you that I worry about Michel and Catherine, but I don’t think about them as often as I should. You see, they’ve always bickered. Always. For as long as I can remember. And when I’m around them, I try to stop it. And I worry about them being happy, but when I leave them, my incessant worrying subsides. I think about them but also just let them lead their lives. I should do more to heal their disagreements. I shouldn’t be able to forget their quarrels so easily.”
“It sounds natural to me,” Thomas said thoughtfully. “Maybe I don’t understand guilt, but you can’t fret about it every waking moment or it will harm you and it does no good for them.”
“But when I’m not thinking about them, I become selfish, just thinking about things that I want. Even when I’m serving my congregants, I have a hard time getting away from my private desires and hopes. Things that turn me away from helping others.”
“Do you honestly believe that you worry about yourself more than about anybody else?” Thomas stared at him in disbelief. “That’s far from the truth. You never give yourself time. You always worry about others first and yourself after even a passing rodent gets attention. You should spend more time on yourself. Rather, you talk about Catherine and Michel constantly but you never share your desires.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. It’s my curse, I suppose. Let’s not dwell on it. It’s your turn now. You promised. Tell me more about yourself, about your history. And what is bothering you?”
Thomas leaned closer, mere inches from Xavier’s face, and whispered. “May I confess to my priest?”
“What is it?” Xavier’s heart pounded. “Please, tell me.”
“I’ll tell you everything in time. But my past is mundane.”
It irritated Xavier that Thomas would never tell him anything about his past. He talked about his thoughts, his philosophy, how much Xavier meant to him, politics, everything but where he came from. Xavier knew he was from America, but what else?
“I don’t believe it’s unimportant,” Xavier said.
“I have something more pressing.” Thomas strained closer, their lips nearly touching. “I want you,” he said softly, “in ways you can’t possibly imagine. I want to feel your lips, your entire body.”
Xavier jumped off the bench as if struck by lightning. He looked around to see if anyone else might have seen even as he battled the excitement welling within. He turned to see that Thomas stood, calm as ever. “Did I offend you?”
“No. I mean—I only—” It was useless. Oh, Xavier desperately wanted what Thomas said. He fought with every ounce of strength not to go to Thomas and finish what he had started, to feel those manly lips smash against his, or to explore that enticing mouth with his tongue. Xavier turned his head to the ground and barely whispered. “I can’t.”
Thomas again stood behind him. “I understand.” He placed his hand on Xavier’s back. “You hold such conviction to your vows. Your dedication to the church is impressive.”
“If only I felt that strongly. I do it for them,” Xavier said and motioned toward his parish. “They count on me to uphold what the church teaches. It’s the only thing that they can cling to, especially because so many of them abandoned the church. Those who remain need to see the truth of what I teach. If I can’t obey the laws, how can I expect them to?”
“Why should the laws imprison you? Why do they strip you of your feeling?”
“I can’t explain it. I don’t know. Somehow you knew about me from the beginning and sensed these tragic longings deep within me that I fight daily. You test them more than ever.”
“So you
do
feel the same way?”
“You know I do.”
“Xavier, listen to me. Stop shaking. I won’t hurt you.”
Xavier believed Thomas, his one friend, and the source of his lust, and moved closer. They sat again on the bench, still in intimate proximity but, thankfully, without the sexual tension. “I understand how you feel,” Thomas continued. “I don’t pretend to agree. I don’t live with a fear of some unknown force that dictates arbitrary rules. We’ve talked about our theological differences, but I’ll never force anything on you.”
Xavier smiled with relief. “Thomas—”
“Shh. I have one more thing to say, and then we won’t talk about it any more tonight. Keep your mind open. I’m not going anywhere. So relax, be yourself, and don’t change on my account. But remember that I love you. Yes, I said it. I love you and long for you every night. And if you ever change your mind, if ever this church casts you aside, I’ll catch you.”
Xavier was lost as he listened to Thomas, who clearly continued to seduce him. Xavier was not fooled nor blind. This was a seduction of the heart. But Xavier could never abandon those he served. In fact, the man who threatened to pull him away only confirmed this unending faith in the goodness of people, for at Xavier’s weakest and most vulnerable moment, when a few more words or a swift action might have pulled him away from the church forever, Thomas had stopped.
They fell into a comfortable silence and Xavier was about to tell Thomas how much his constraint meant when he saw a shadow move in the bushes and he tensed.
Xavier almost spoke when the figure started toward them with a knife. Before the attacker reached the bench, however, Thomas dashed across the yard and knocked the vagrant to the ground. Xavier rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Impossible. There was no way that Thomas could have covered that distance that fast. Xavier must have seen incorrectly because he was afraid or because he was running after Thomas. His fear must have distorted reality. He stopped where he stood, confused.
A few feet from him now, Xavier heard the man scream in agony as Thomas hovered over him. Thomas had ripped the knife out of his hand and grabbed the man’s throat. Then he clenched his jaw and scowled. It was a frightening demeanor that Xavier had never seen in Thomas. Xavier stood paralyzed and speechless through the entire scene.
“You’d attack a priest? In a church? You’re sick. I should kill you and end your misery. It’s too bad that you were ever brought into this world.”
The man cowered beneath Thomas.
“Thomas, please.” Xavier hurried forward and placed his hand on Thomas’s shoulder.
Thomas had broken the intruder’s arm, which hung loosely at his side and at a strange angle. Thomas’s demeanor changed at Xavier’s intervention. He acted almost embarrassed, released the man, and took a step backward, then glanced away from Xavier and mumbled an apology. Xavier knelt next to the man, who was breathing heavily, in obvious pain.
“If you need food or money, just knock on the door,” Xavier said. The man relaxed a little but crawled away from the priest.
“Father, forgive me. Oh, God, please let me live. Oh, please.” He scrambled to his feet and stumbled away.
“You need a doctor. Wait here.” Xavier tried to get him to stay but he ran down the street. On the next block he screamed with fear, clutched his arm, and raced around a corner.
Thomas stood silently a few feet away. “Is there nothing toward which you don’t hold compassion? He would have killed us.”
“I hardly think he meant to murder.” He turned to Thomas. “What did you do to him? Why? Your atheism comes with a serious distrust of humanity.”
“And your faith gives you too much trust.”
“Would you have killed him?”
“If he threatened me, yes. If he came after you, absolutely. He’s of no use to the humanity you love. He’s a murderer, a fiend who attacks without provocation.”
“Maybe compassion could change him,” Xavier said quietly. “Did you break his arm?”
“Yes,” Thomas said, strangely calm. “His arm snapped. He wasn’t going to whimper away silently until I controlled the knife and him.”
“Thomas, I can’t allow this. I need to go.”
“Is that it, then? Or may I return tomorrow?”
“Of course you may,” Xavier said and walked into the church. He was unnerved that they had disregarded the wounded man, and that Thomas so easily dismissed what had happened. He needed time to process what he had seen. Even more, he worried about his feelings as he fought his longing for Thomas. That had not changed despite what he had witnessed. After all, he had not hesitated to invite Thomas to return tomorrow. His outward behavior focused on third parties, but inside he swooned at the way that Thomas moved to protect him, risking his own life and acting so swiftly that Xavier’s mind played tricks on him. If only he could tell Thomas. But he had to remain quiet.
5 June 1789 Evening
THOMAS DECIDED TO test even further the ethic that he had tried so carefully to uphold. He had known Xavier for less than a month but his feelings intensified every night until he wanted to demand Xavier’s acceptance of their love. He had come to know Xavier too well, however, to make such harsh demands, and he respected him too much not to take his devotion to the church seriously. Yet he needed to act. Anthony had warned him that his impatience would put him into dangerous and unethical positions and Thomas had tried to listen, and he often succeeded in controlling his urges, but with Xavier it had become too difficult.
So on this evening he would test the rules by going to their limits and possibly beyond. Since their first meeting a week earlier, Thomas had spent a couple of evenings in Catherine’s company because Xavier did not want to forsake his sister, even though he spent every evening with Thomas. They compromised by having Xavier meet her through the day as much as possible, and Thomas agreed to visit her when Xavier requested. He actually liked going to the house, especially since Michel seldom appeared to quarrel with his siblings. He also enjoyed getting to know the people whom Xavier loved. He found Catherine positively charming, much like himself in her zest for life and obsessive protection of Xavier. He now went, therefore, to ask her about Xavier and their relationship. Thomas generally went to Xavier immediately after waking, but tonight he must first do this.
Thomas walked up the steps of the enormous Saint-Laurent house, prepared to knock.
“Thomas,” came Catherine’s voice from above.
He looked up, eschewing the knock.
“Come in,” she implored. “Don’t wait for the slow servants.”
Thomas entered, walking through the halls and onto the gigantic stone porch that overlooked Rue St. Denis. The Seine’s cool breeze felt better and better as the summer’s heat slowly crept upon them. Upon joining Catherine on the balcony, Thomas kissed Catherine and smiled.
“Where’s Xavier? You mean you two aren’t attached at the hip?”
“Don’t worry. I’m meeting him later,” Thomas said, smiling. Catherine was too perceptive.
“I just heard the most interesting news,” Catherine announced before Thomas could say anything further. “The dauphin has died.”
Thomas hardly cared, but she continued. “The king’s son, Thomas.
He has just died. I don’t think it matters too much, since they always dig someone up to carry on the monarchy, but it sent Louis into brooding. He’s in such a depression that he can’t function. If he refuses to do anything, everyone fears that the riots will increase and then, who knows? Maybe we’ll move toward democracy after all.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement.