Charming the Vicar

by Jenny Frame

  Feeling good, Finn started to walk to the church. As she approached the gates, a man she hadn’t seen before was coming out of them. He looked like your stereotypical country gent in a tweed suit and deerstalker.

  When he looked up, she saw a scowl on his face. “Just the person I want to see.” Whoever he was, he wasn’t happy and in fact sounded downright hostile.

  “Do I know you?” Finn said.

  “No, you don’t, but you bloody well do now. My name’s Winchester and I’m deputy church warden. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here but I won’t allow it.”

  Winchester? Wasn’t that the family Bridge had said wanted the witches lynched? “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Winchester.”

  “I know what you do—you make trouble, and you make people of faith look like fools, but that will not happen here.”

  She could not imagine this pompous idiot being one of Bridge’s church wardens. “I expose charlatans who take innocent people’s money. Nothing more.”

  “Well, what business do you have sitting in our village church every day, and ingratiating yourself with our vicar? It’s bad enough that we have a woman, a lesbian vicar here, without the country’s most renowned atheist and troublemaker sitting in our churchyard plotting trouble.”

  “I’m painting your fucking church. I don’t have a camera crew hidden in the trees.”

  Mr. Winchester’s face went red with rage. “If the vicar doesn’t listen to reason soon, steps will be taken.”

  With those words, he walked off leaving Finn puzzled and angry. “Fucking arsehole.”

  Finn picked up her things and walked into the churchyard. She left her painting things by the bench and started to make her way to the church office.

  * * *

  Bridge sat at her desk staring at her blank notepad and tapping her pen on the desk. She had just had another frosty meeting with Mr. Winchester, and her attempts at writing this week’s sermon appeared futile. She held her head in one hand and closed her eyes, thinking inspiration might strike, but only images of her nightmare last night played over and over in her eyes. Her mind kept jumping from the pain of Ellen’s memory to dancing with Finn in the club, and feeling intense passion and want. It was wrong, all wrong, especially today.

  Normally her morning prayers helped any worries or concerns she had, but they hadn’t helped today. Guilt was the overwhelming emotion that coursed through her body, and it was not conducive to sermon writing.

  Janice knocked and popped her head around the door. “Vicar? Ms. Kane to see you.”

  Bridge sighed. Brilliant, just brilliant. Finn is the last person I need to see.

  Finn walked in with the biggest smile she had seen on her. Bridge had thought after last night, Finn would be keeping a low profile, but the opposite seemed to be the case.

  “Morning, Vicar. I thought I’d return the favour today and bring sandwiches and cake for lunchtime. Could I put them in your church hall fridge?”

  It was the sweetest, most open gesture Finn had shown since coming to the village. She should be rejoicing at her progress, but instead all Bridge could feel was guilt and a desire to be anywhere else but here.

  “Of course you can, but I’m going out soon, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Bridge said that more dismissively than she meant to and saw Finn’s smile falter.

  “But I thought you’d like to rib me some more about your epic victory. I can wait till you get back.”

  Bridge got up and started to put her jacket on. The last thing she needed was to feel things for Finn on Ellen’s anniversary. “I’m sorry, I haven’t got time today. I have the school service and then a few appointments after that.”

  “What about later? I wanted to talk to you about something that happened to me today.”

  Bridge placed a gentle hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Not today, Finn. Not today.”

  She saw hurt in Finn’s eyes and those walls she had started to breach build themselves again.

  Finn grabbed her bags, and said, “Fine, I won’t bother you.”

  “Finn, I didn’t mean—”

  But it was too late. Finn had left her office and slammed the door shut.

  “Well done, Bridge. You handled that impeccably.”

  * * *

  Finn didn’t bother to set up her painting things in the churchyard. There was no way she wanted to paint the church, perhaps not ever again.

  She walked through the village, heading to the loneliness of her cottage. As she walked by a row of cottages and heard a knocking on glass, she turned and saw Mrs. Castle waving from her living room window. She smiled at her and waved back.

  Mrs. Castle mouthed some words, and appeared to be beckoning her over. The old woman was nice, but the last thing she needed this morning was chit-chat.

  Finn reluctantly walked over to her door and opened it a little. “Hello?”

  “Come in, dear.”

  With a sigh, she entered and, after leaving her things in the hallway, walked into the living room.

  “Come in, come in. Sit down. I was hoping I’d see you again.”

  Finn sat and looked up at all the pictures above her fireplace.

  “That’s my Harry, her wife Annie, and her daughter Riley. Beautiful, aren’t they?”

  “They are. Very much so.” So that was the Harry everyone spoke of. She did indeed look intense and formidable, but her appearance was softened by the smile on her face, and her arms were around her wife and daughter. Annie was gorgeous—no wonder Harry fell in love with her.

  “You’d never think Harry tried her best to run away from Annie as she fell in love with her, would you?”

  “No, you wouldn’t. They look very happy,” Finn said.

  “Love can be a terrifying emotion. Anyway, how are you settling in? I’ve heard you’re painting the church.”

  Finn raised an eyebrow. “Word travels fast.”

  “There are no secrets in a small village like this.”

  “So it seems. I don’t think I’ll be doing it any more,” Finn said.

  “Oh? Why is that?” Martha asked.

  Finn didn’t want to say the real reason. “One of the church wardens doesn’t like me being there, because of my background, and is giving Bridge a hard time about it. I don’t want to make life difficult for her.”

  “You like the vicar, don’t you,” Martha said.

  The way Martha looked at her suggested she meant more than friendship. “Yeah, I didn’t at first. I just wanted to be left alone, but she didn’t take the hint.”

  Martha laughed. “Yes, she’s nothing if not persistent, our vicar, but it’s just because she cares. She wants to help everyone, even the lost sheep.”

  “Meaning me? The atheist? The lost sheep?”

  Martha was silent for a few seconds. “That depends. Do you feel like you’re lost, Finn? Most atheists I’ve met are very sure about their convictions, and when I’ve seen you on TV, you seem very sure.”

  “I’m not sure of anything any more. That’s why I’m here in Axedale.”

  For some reason, it was very easy to talk to this woman. She was comforting, didn’t have an agenda, and cared for Bridge.

  “You should talk to the vicar. She’s not like other religious people who try to push their own ideas on you.”

  “I have been,” Finn said. “I mean, I thought we were becoming friends, but today she didn’t—well, she had other concerns today.”

  Martha sat forward and said, “I don’t know everything about it, but I know this date is very difficult for the vicar for some reason. My Harry always sends her flowers on this day, for the past few years.”

  Flowers. That must have been Lady Harry sending them. That changed everything. Maybe Bridge wasn’t dismissing her after what they shared over the past couple of days. She had other things on her mind.

  God, she was so selfish. Finn was so caught up in her own pain, her own needs to be with and talk with Bridge, she didn’t s
top to think that Bridge might have her own worries or problems.

  Bridge needed some space, and that’s what she would give her.

  “Thanks for telling me that, Martha.” In a move surprising even herself, Finn said, “Would you like me to take you out for a walk in your wheelchair?”

  Martha had a huge smile on her face. “Oh, I’d love that. Do you know, I once knew a young magician? He was handsome and boyish, just like you.”

  Finn flushed. “Well, let’s get you ready and I might even show you a trick or two,” she joked.

  “Oh my!” Martha said. “I can’t wait.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bridge managed to keep away from the church most of the day, but when she did return, Jan told her Finn hadn’t stayed around. She had hurt Finn this morning, and just when Finn had opened up to her, but today she just couldn’t deal with the feelings being with her brought.

  Staying away didn’t help much either. Bridge still thought about her, and her thoughts of Finn were drowning out her thoughts of Ellen. She had never thought about anyone else on Ellen’s anniversary, and it was hard to sort through those conflicting emotions.

  To make matters worse, Bridge had dropped in to Martha’s on her way home. Martha told her that Finn had taken her out for a beautiful walk, and it made Martha’s day.

  The thought was so sweet, it melted Bridge’s heart. She was wrong to hurt Finn’s feelings this morning, and she wanted to make things right.

  Figuring Finn probably hadn’t eaten all day since she had rebuffed her attempts at lunch together, Bridge asked her housekeeper, Mrs. Long, to make up enough dinner for two to share. She walked to Finn’s cottage, food basket in hand, and prayed that Finn hadn’t regressed to hating her. She arrived at her front door and hesitated before she knocked. How could she explain why she had acted as she had today?

  She closed her eyes for a second and prayed. Lord God, give me the strength to make Finn understand, and help me to be strong and not break down.

  Bridge balanced the basket on one knee and knocked on the door. It took a few knocks, but she eventually heard footsteps. The door opened and Bridge caught her breath. Finn looked…sexily tousled. She had on her paint-spattered jeans, a loose white shirt open to the waist, and a sports bra, and that hair of hers was floppy and interesting.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off those ab muscles of Finn’s. She ached to drag her nails across them and make Finn groan.

  “Bridge? Is everything okay?” Finn said.

  Bridge shook away that thought and said, “Do you always answer the door in a state of undress?”

  “There’s only two people who come to my door, you and Quade, and I doubt I’m Quade’s type.”

  Bridge nodded. “And me?”

  “I’m apparently not your type either, so I must be safe,” Finn said.

  There it was again. It really did bother Finn that she apparently wasn’t Bridge’s type, but somewhere between them, they both knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. They had such an energy and attraction that Bridge felt compelled to touch Finn.

  “Yes, you are safe from my clutches.” Bridge played along. “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted today, and hoping you might accept my apology, I took the liberty of bringing dinner. I thought you probably hadn’t eaten.” Bridge waited hopefully for Finn’s reply, and then she saw a smile creep up on Finn’s face.

  “Okay, Vicar, come on in, and give me that heavy basket.”

  Bridge handed over her basket and said, “My, my, you are learning to be gallant and charming.”

  “Well, you did say I needed to work hard to grow up from a boy to be a rugged butch like Quade.” Finn winked at her.

  “True.” Bridge chuckled. “Although I quite like your boyish qualities.”

  Finn took it and led her into the kitchen. She took a casserole dish out of the basket and peeked under the foil that covered it. “This looks good, and you were right, I forgot to eat and I’m starving.”

  “Mrs. Long said just to put it into the oven for twenty minutes, and it’ll be ready,” Bridge said.

  “Perfect, I do at least know how to turn the oven on.” Finn put it in to heat up and took a bottle of red wine from the cupboard. “Drink?”

  “I didn’t think you drank wine,” Bridge said.

  Finn rubbed the back of her head bashfully. “I don’t, I just—well, I got a couple of bottles in case you wanted to have a drink with me sometime.”

  God, why does she have to be so bloody adorable? You’re not making this easy for me.

  “That would be nice then, thanks.”

  Finn poured her a glass of red and got herself a cold bottle of lager.

  Bridge took the wine glass from her and said, “No vodka?”

  “No, not any more. Let’s go and sit in front of the fire until the food is ready.”

  They both got comfortable and watched the flames dancing in the fireplace for a while. Bridge was trying to build up her courage for what she had to say, but it was not easy.

  “Finn, I’m sorry I tried to push you away this morning.”

  “It’s okay. I probably shouldn’t have been bothering you at work,” Finn said.

  Bridge put her hand on Finn’s knee. “No, you should. I like talking to you, Finn, but today is a difficult day for me. It’s hard every year.”

  “I’ll listen if you want to tell me.”

  Bridge took a good sip of wine. This was the hard part. “You keep asking me why someone like me finds themselves in the Church. This is part of the story. It’s the anniversary of Ellen’s death.”

  “Ellen? The woman who was brought up in the cold reading?” Finn said.

  “Yes.” Bridge sighed. “This is the day she died.”

  Finn held Bridge’s hand and it felt quite natural. Bridget looked raw and emotional, and she so wanted to comfort her. “Was she family? A lover?”

  “Neither. She went to school with Harry and me. We grew up together, and went to university. While Harry read archaeology, Ellen and I both took physiological and behavioural sciences. I was always interested in the way the human mind worked, like yourself, I suppose.”

  That was quite true. Despite not having a formal education, Finn was a student of the mind. Perhaps they had more in common than she first thought.

  “And what happened? Did you have fun at university?”

  Bridge smiled. “Too much fun. Ellen and I enjoyed the same types of…nightclubs, but Harry, not so much. She only came out with us every so often. Harry was more interested in bars, and seducing her way through the entire female population of Cambridge.”

  It was hard to reconcile the Lady Harry she had seen with her family, in Martha’s photographs, with this idea of Harry, but strangely enough, it wasn’t hard to imagine Bridge as a young woman enjoying clubbing, drinking, and debauchery. Finn also noticed the reluctance to mention the kind of nightclubs she went to. Finn was sure she meant Red’s and other S&M clubs but she didn’t want to scare Bridge off.

  “You sound like you were perfect for each other,” Finn said.

  “Yes, I thought so. I’d been in love with her since school. Ellen was all I thought about, she filled up my heart, but there was just one problem.”

  “What problem?”

  Bridge nearly drained her whole glass of wine, and then said, “The biggest problem of all. She was straight.”

  Finn could hear the emotion in her voice threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry, Bridge.”

  “Yes, well, I wouldn’t give up. Harry kept trying to tell me to move on, and get on with my life, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t get her out of my heart.”

  “That must have been so hard.” Finn rubbed her thumb over the back of Bridge’s hand, trying to bring her comfort in some way.

  Bridge’s eyes welled up, and tears ran down her cheeks. Finn grabbed a box of tissues from the side table and handed a tissue to Bridge, who quickly wiped them away. “You can’t imagine how hard it was,
having the woman I loved cry on my shoulder about every single man she went out with who hurt her, when all I wanted to do was kiss her and make it better.”

  Finn’s heart broke for Bridge. She felt bad enough thinking Bridge had gotten flowers from someone else, far less hearing all that stuff, and Finn wasn’t even in love.

  Finn’s stomach clenched when she thought that. No, she was in lust, that was all.

  “It must’ve been so hard. What happened to Ellen?”

  Bridge got a faraway look in her eyes. “We persuaded Harry to come out clubbing with us. I went with Harry and we were going to meet Ellen there. I had decided that was the night I would tell her I loved her. She was late, and it got later and later. I think Harry thought she was with some boyfriend and tried again to get me to move on, but she texted and said she was on her way.” Bridge cleared her throat and gulped hard. “I went upstairs to meet her at the bar and—”

  “What happened?” Finn moved closer and took her other hand, desperate to give Bridge some comfort, somehow.

  “When I met her upstairs, ready to tell her I loved her, she told me she was getting married to one of her good-for-nothing boyfriends.”

  Finn did what came naturally and pulled her into her arms. Bridge felt stiff at first, but then she relaxed.

  “I went off the rails for a while after that, but found solace in the Church. Anyway, four years ago my mother phoned to tell me she had read Ellen’s obituary in The Times.”

  “What happened to her?” Finn asked.

  “Car accident.” Bridge wiped away more tears. “She had alcohol in her system. Things weren’t good at home for her, so my mother heard. It hit me hard. Even though the years had passed, a part of my heart still loved her.”

  “I’m so sorry, Bridge, and I’m sorry I bothered you today,” Finn said.

  Bridge pulled back and shook her head. “No, don’t be sorry, you didn’t know, and anyway there was another reason why today was so difficult.”

  Bridge wiped away her tears, and hesitated before saying, “It was the first year I forgot the anniversary of her death. Last night when we were at Axedale having fun, I never thought of her once and didn’t even realize what day it was going to be today, until this morning.”