Love in Purgatory (De La Fuente #2)

by Lexi Buchanan

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dante waited in the reception room, just outside of the bishop’s office. Father David Thompson, the bishop’s right hand man, glared at him from behind his wire-rimmed frames.

  For some reason, Fr. David had taken an instant dislike to him many years ago, and although he would always be cordial, he would never be welcoming. He would make Dante feel like being in his presence was a chore.

  Dante had never done or said anything to him to make him act the way that he did. Fr. David’s attitude had puzzled him for some time.

  He tried to clear his mind and looked around the room he was in, but wished he hadn’t when his eyes landed on a picture of the Pope. That was all he needed when he’d come to break his vows of ordination.

  The nerves that had been with him since he’d put Emelia on a flight to Montana had now settled into the pit of his stomach like a rock.

  If was the love of Emelia that kept him grounded and in his seat while his palms dampened with stress, and his heart thumped against his breastbone.

  He’d bought her a present when he’d first arrived in Denver to meet with the bishop, and even though he knew her as well as he did himself, he felt unsure as to giving her the gift. At least, until their lives had been sorted—more so his life.

  And then when Fr. David announced, “The Most Reverend Colin Sommer is ready for you,” Dante’s heart nearly stopped before it picked up its beating again.

  Dante rose and ignored Fr. David as he walked into the office knowing his life was about to change, he just hoped that the disappointment he knew the bishop would feel didn’t hurt too deeply. He was sure the bishop would conceive it as betrayal.

  Walking into the office, he greeted the bishop with a dip of his head and placed a kiss to the sacred ring before he was waved into a chair opposite his desk.

  The office was as old as the cathedral itself, and spanned over a hundred years. The room had always been dark, just like it was now with the dark green walls and dark mahogany wooden coving. The curtains were half pulled over the windows, which cut off a lot of the light.

  As he sat in silence and waited for the bishop to start the conversation, Dante smiled at how neat as a pin the bishop was. Dante had often wondered how the bishop stayed crease free. Not one wrinkle could be found on the bishop’s black cassock that was edged with red piping to match the buttons down the front, the red sash around his waist and, of course, the zucchetto. The red skullcap.

  He looked just as Dante remembered from his time as a teenager back in Montana when he’d sneak in to see how long it would take the priests to find him. That was how he found Bishop Colin Sommer, although he hadn’t been a bishop back then. Eventually, he’d opened up about his mother’s death and that had begun a kind of friendship between them.

  “You’re not happy,” the bishop started, and Dante snapped his eyes to him as he continued, “You haven’t been happy for a very long time. As much as I’ve tried to encourage you to open up to me like you would have done before you took your vows, you never have. So talk to me, Dante. Talk to me as Colin, your friend, and then, when you need me to, we’ll talk as your bishop.”

  Dante had no idea what was going on because they’d always kept the respect of position between them.

  “I’ve surprised you. I still have it at my age, huh?”

  He laughed in relief and amusement. “You do, Bis…um, Colin.”

  “That’s better. You’ve always been able to talk to me more easily as Colin than Bishop Colin, so talk to me, Dante, and let me help you.”

  Dante sighed and looked through the crack in the curtains before he focused on Colin again. “I thought I knew what I wanted to say and how to say it…but, now that I’m sitting here facing you, I have no clue how to say what I need to when I know that you won’t be able to help me, even though I wish you could.”

  “Dante, I’ve known you, what…about twenty-five years. A long time. Longer than I’ve known the majority of priests in this Diocese. Talk to me.”

  Dante closed his eyes and centered himself before they snapped back open, and he admitted, “You’re right, I haven’t been happy in a very long time. More so recently. For a while now, I’ve wondered whether the decision I made to join the seminary was one that I shouldn’t have made.” He paused and gained encouragement at the nod that Colin offered.

  So he continued, “Emelia isn’t my sister.”

  “What?” Colin questioned, taken by surprise.

  “I always thought that she was my half-sister, until recently, and there lies the problem.” He met Colin’s gaze. “I fell in love with Emelia years ago.”

  He stayed silent to give Colin time to work out the timeline, and Colin’s eyes widened when it must have clicked. “You ran?”

  Dante nodded. “I did. I thought it was so wrong to have the feelings that I did for a woman that was my half-sister. I hoped when I turned to the church that the feelings would disappear, that I’d be absolved of the kiss we shared. It’s been heavily on my mind since then, but now that I know there is no blood relationship between us, I can’t switch my feelings off anymore. They’re there, and…I want to be with her. I want to grow old with her by my side. I’ve spent years tortured with a love that I thought was forbidden. I’m not prepared to spend another day without her in my life as the woman I love.”

  A sense of relief washed over him as he finished. He’d finally admitted the truth to the one person he should have spoken to all those years ago. The one person who would have to now act as his bishop in dealing with what he’d just confessed to him.

  “Now,” Colin leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk with his hands intertwined, “it’s my turn to confess.”

  That surprised Dante, who frowned at Colin’s words.

  Confess to what?

  “I knew when you came to me, asking to join the seminary, that there was something wrong. Young men your age, who are in the process of building their dream, don’t suddenly change their mind.” He smiled. “I may be old but I’m not oblivious to life regardless of popular belief.” He glanced at his closed office door before he faced Dante again.

  “I remember trying to get you to talk, and you talked about everything other than your family. When I did guide you in that direction, you never once mentioned a sister. I did wonder, but because the seminary seemed to be what you wanted, I helped you. In honesty, I figured once you were there, the counseling and classes would have caused you to come back to your senses and you’d leave. But they didn’t and you didn’t. And then you took your vows.” Colin sighed and sat back in his chair, looking his seventy-four years.

  It was the first time that Dante had heard Colin’s thoughts on him and he didn’t know what to say in response. Dante was strong willed when he chose, which was why no one could sway him from the path that he suddenly wanted.

  “As your bishop, I should send you for counseling and tell you that you will never be free because it’s your job to your congregation to stay true to them. That you will never be free of your vows.” Colin paused and caught his breath. “I don’t have the strength anymore to argue or to get angry that you want to leave your vows behind. I also feel guilty for not doing more to dissuade you from the path that you seemed to want even when, deep down, I knew you were using the seminary as an escape from something.”

  He’d expected to see the anger that Colin was occasionally known for but this had been a truly enlightening experience.

  “What happens now?”

  Colin sighed. “You have to resign from ecclesiastical office, which you can do while you are here. You can sit here and type up your request.”

  “I have that with me,” Dante added.

  “I should have known that…we will have to fill in a questionnaire that will be sent to Rome as a petition for an indult of laicization. You will also need to apply separately for a dispensation from your vows. In truth, the laicization will probably be granted, but the dispensation, which will fre
e you to marry, may not be. I’ve hard stories that these requests may not even make it to the Supreme Court of the Vatican. Do you understand what this means, Dante? You’ll never be able to marry in a Catholic Church, or have anything to do with the faith in an active role. Can you accept that?”

  He already knew that because he’d been online searching for information so that he wouldn’t be caught off guard. “Yes.” It wouldn’t prevent him from working at outreach centers, or from following his original dream of opening a restaurant. This time, he’d have Emelia by his side.

  Then the bishop’s words hit him ‘never marry in a Catholic Church’. “So marriage is allowed, but not in a Catholic Church even without a dispensation being granted? Did I hear that right?”

  Colin nodded. “I shouldn’t even be telling you that. But yes. If the dispensation isn’t granted, then as long as the marriage doesn’t take place in a Catholic Church, you can be married. You’ll be going against everything that you’ve been taught and your own faith, which I know you still believe in. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to answer that just yet. Maybe in time, but for now…” his voice trailed off as he tried to think of his answer, “I just need time.”

  “I’m going to be very sorry to lose you, Dante. I’ve dedicated fifty-three years to the church and you’re the only priest that I’ve ever met to really challenge me. Oh, there’s been others over the time, I’m sure. But you’re the one I’m going to remember. If it had been anyone else sitting where you are, saying what you have, then I’m not sure I would have reacted the same. In fact, I know I wouldn’t have.”

  “I’m going to miss you as well.” And he would, more than he thought he would when he walked through the doors to have this meeting.

  “Hand me your letter, and we’ll get the questionnaire answered so then you’ll be free to leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Aiden had gone into town with their father, so Emelia was supposed to be cooking up a storm in the kitchen with her mom, but all she was doing was mooning over the cheese sauce for the lasagna as she stirred it with a wooden spoon.

  Her mom was in the background putting together some pies for dessert, and Emelia hadn’t missed the looks from the corner of her mom’s eye. Her mom had yet to comment on her lack of enthusiasm, but she knew that her mother wouldn’t stay silent for long.

  On the odd occasion, they’d both been mistaken for sisters with their matching eyes, and long dark hair. Her mom had aged well and her skin still looked as young and healthy as Emelia always remembered from when she was a child. Her mom was seven years younger than Emiliano, and at fifty-five, she looked to be in her early thirties. Emelia often hoped that she looked as good when she reached her mom’s age.

  But on a sigh with her attention back on the cheese sauce, she realized that it had started to go lumpy. She quickly turned the burner off and removed the saucepan to the table, close to where her mother worked.

  “The sauce is ready,” she said unnecessarily.

  “Hmm, I can see that.” Her mom smiled. “It looks good. Nice and thick. Perfect for the lasagna.”

  Emelia poured the sauce over the rich Italian dish, and inhaled the delicious fragrance that wafted under her nose. It was one of her favorite meals. It was one that she could make in her sleep, which was why she’d chosen that very one to make while she was so distracted.

  Dante hadn’t called in the three days that she’d been home, and her attempts to contact him had gone unanswered. His silence made her worry and caused a nervous kind of pain in her stomach. Her mind was playing tricks on her, and kept making her think that he’d had second thoughts and that their time together really hadn’t meant anything to him.

  All she needed was one word from him to acknowledge that he still felt the same as her.

  That she hadn’t to give up on him because he hadn’t her.

  But why hadn’t he called?

  Why wouldn’t he answer her calls?

  “You look like you’re going to be sick,” her mother commented, and placed a hand to Emelia’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “If you’re fine, why is your hand clenched tight against your stomach?” Her mom caressed her face with a worried look in her eyes.

  “I hadn’t realized that it was.” She looked down and forced her hand down. “I’m fine.” She turned away. “Let me put the lasagna in the oven.”

  Emelia busied herself with the lasagna before she cleaned the dishes she’d used. She’d just finished putting them away into the cupboard when she heard the front door open.

  “They’re back early,” her mom commented, frowning.

  “I’ll go see.” She wasn’t really interested in more conversation with her family, but she knew her mom was minutes away from confronting her…and, she knew, that she’d blurt all her heartache out to the one person she should have talked to in the beginning.

  Drying her hands on a towel, she moved toward the front door and, when she saw who stood in the entrance, her heart stopped.

  Dante looked…haggard. His face was drawn as though he’d suffered a huge loss but, as his eyes met hers, she felt her heart start to beat again. His joy at seeing her lit his eyes, and that was all she needed to move toward him.

  Within seconds, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tight against her. She needn’t have worried because Dante held her just as tightly around the waist. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and inhaled, like she did with him. He smelled of her man, the love of her life…and, home. He was hers and she would never let him go.

  “I’ve been so worried about you,” Emelia whispered into his ear and felt him shudder against her.

  “I’m here now…I love you, and I’ve missed you so much,” he countered.

  Emelia felt close to tears that she had to blink hard so they wouldn’t fall. She stepped back slightly, her hands caressed Dante’s face before she reached up and whispered, “I love you,” and placed a tender kiss to his lips.

  The gasp behind them caused Emelia to still, and Dante raised his head to look behind her. She knew it was her mom, but, at least, it wasn’t the whole family.

  She slowly turned and was relieved when Dante kept a hand on her hip, but the look on her mom’s face wasn’t one of happiness.

  “What is going on, Emelia?” she asked, her voice full of anger.

  At nearly thirty, she still felt the same as she did at ten when faced with her mom’s anger—scared.

  “Can we go into the kitchen and I’ll explain,” Dante offered while Emelia held her breath.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” her mom hissed.

  Emelia felt Dante flinch at her mother’s words, and that gave her the strength that she knew she’d need for this discussion. He needed her to be on his side, and not to give in because of her mother’s anger.

  “Please, Mom. We do need to talk, and it would be better if we weren’t standing in the doorway.”

  Her mom hesitated and then turned her back on them while she headed for the kitchen.

  “This isn’t going too well,” Dante commented. “Just remember, no matter what is said, that I love you, Emelia. Can you do that?”

  She turned and quickly kissed him on the lips. “As long as you remember how much I love you, then I can do that.”

  “You’re remarkable.” Dante caressed her face before he smoothed down from her shoulder to take her hand tightly in his.

  With a tug, he got her moving. They walked into the kitchen and joined her mom at the kitchen table. Emelia raised a brow when she saw that her mom had placed two mugs of coffee on the table for them.

  Emelia followed Dante into her chair, and said, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t think that I’ve softened because I’ve poured you both a drink. I love you both but, this,” she waved her hand between the two of them, “I can’t. You’re brother and sister�
��”

  “But we’re not, Mom. Growing up, I only saw Dante about once a year, over the Christmas holidays and sometimes, not even then. Other than those short visits, he was never around. He wasn’t here like the others.” She glanced at Dante, who cradled the warm cup of coffee in his hands, his eyes on her. “When I fell in love with him,” she turned to her mom, “I knew that he wasn’t my brother because I’d heard you and Dad talking. Regardless of age, I’ve been in love with him for years, like he has me, except where I knew that we had no blood between us, Dante didn’t, so he left.”

  “I love Emelia, Lucia. I have for as long as I can remember. I tried to fight it, and I thought I was doing okay with that, until recently. I can’t fight my feelings for her anymore, which is why,” he gripped her hand tightly, “I’m leaving the priesthood.”

  After a few minutes of silence, her mother nodded, and said, “When I saw you both at the door. It hit me why Emelia insisted on the others being told the truth about Emelia and Diego’s births. It was because she wanted you to know the truth from us. Wasn’t it?”

  “Yes…I couldn’t handle what I felt for Emelia when I thought she was my sister, so I joined the seminary and was eventually ordained. I can’t change my religious upbringing and I wouldn’t want to, but I can’t stay in the church when I want a life with Emelia by my side.”

  Her mom wiped at the tears on her face, and shook her head when Emelia tried to go to her. “I’m fine. I honestly don’t know how I feel about you both being a couple. It came out of the blue. No warning. But I can’t ignore the love that I saw before or what you’ve said. I just don’t see this going very well once Emiliano finds out. He raised you both.”

  Dante scrubbed a hand over his face and his shoulders slumped forward. They knew that their family wouldn’t just accept them as a couple, and Emelia knew that their father would have a lot to say, and more so to Dante.

  When would this be over with…the telling?

  She slipped her hand into Dante’s and offered what comfort she could. She knew that it would be needed once their father and Aiden returned.