A Beautiful Sin

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A Beautiful Sin Page 8

by Terri E. Laine


  “Yes, that’s true.” It was terrible news. In our short acquaintance, I’ve found that Kathy was a lovely person. “I’ll be happy to go in the morning.” I wasn’t sure if Haven even knew her aunt was sick. “Thank you for letting me know. I wonder if I should notify her niece.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot her niece is in town. By the way, how was the gallery showing? I forgot you went tonight. Did it live up to the expectations of the newspaper article?”

  “It was actually better. You should go while she’s here, Bill. Her work is really something. I studied art a bit in college, and what I saw tonight was extraordinary.”

  Bill tapped his forehead with his finger. “I’ll have to remember to do that. When I ran into her at the church, she told me she’d be in town for several months. And she was so pleasant. Not to mention she’s a former student here.”

  Bill obviously had had a different experience with Haven than I had. But then again, he wasn’t the one who sent her home to live with her abusive uncle. So she probably was pleasant to Bill, unlike her caustic attitude toward me. “I’ll try to contact her in the morning. I’m off to bed then.”

  As I turned to leave, Bill reminded me that I was on call that night. We took turns for call when the rectory office was closed. The office phone would automatically be diverted to our individual cell phones.

  As I made my way to my room, I recalled I didn’t have Haven’s number. She only had mine. However, I had the number of the gallery where her art was displayed. I would call there in the morning.

  Bill headed toward his room, leaving me to my troubled thoughts. Not only did I have to come up with something to tell Haven about that day I sent her away, I had to inform her of her aunt’s failing health. Not knowing how close they were, the idea of telling her troubled me.

  Sleep eluded me, as it often did. My knees ached after hours of praying, and each tiny movement brought burning pain on my back, reminding me of the welts from my self-inflicted atonement. I still couldn’t calm my thoughts. The idea that I’d caused harm to someone else stirred ugly emotions in me. If I hadn’t been so selfish with my own needs, a young girl might have gotten the help she needed.

  I prayed to the patron saint of chastity, rape victims, poverty, purity and forgiveness, Saint Maria Goretti, who had more strength of forgiveness than I thought I would ever possess. Her story was somewhat similar to my own. I knew if I were a better man, I could achieve what she had.

  It was still dark when I put on running clothes and shoes. I needed the punishment and the stress relief that a run would provide. I took to the streets and wound my way through the neighborhoods nearby, moving at a pace that made my lungs and legs burn with a need for more oxygen. But I refused to slow down.

  This was the castigation my body craved. I kept up my rhythm until the sky began to lighten and my chaotic thoughts were quelled. I achieved freedom—freedom from pain—and it allowed me to break through my prison of the memories that controlled my life. The screams I kept contained inside of my head were released through running and it was my sanity check. Sometimes I was that bird I envied, flying free without anything to stop me.

  All too soon, I found myself back in front of the rectory and it was time to prepare for Mass. I turned the shower to ice cold and soon the bird I’d become outside had clipped wings once again. Sagging against the wall, I shuddered against the icy spray as I thought about how much I could tell Haven. It wasn’t possible to tell her what I’d gone through. The truth of that night wouldn’t ever leave my lips. Never would I have the courage to speak those words. The only thing I could do was pray that if she asked for an explanation, I could give her one.

  I dressed and walked to the church to prepare for Mass. As I celebrated it, I thought of Haven and prayed to the Lord for guidance, as I often did. Afterward, I was changing out of the vestments when my phone rang. I was shocked to see who was calling.

  Canaan’s card burned a hole in my pocket and on my palm as I carried it home that night. My curiosity about what he had to tell me made me want to call him right away, but I hid that desire from Macie. She said I should call him, and I told her I would when I felt like it. The truth was, it took all I had not to pick up my phone all night and punch in his numbers. What did he want to tell me that was so important?

  By the time the sun rose, I had barely slept at all. I did my best to make myself busy, but that only lasted so long. Enough was enough, so I decided to make the call. It was either that or go through the day and accomplish nothing.

  Before I lost my nerve, I grabbed the card and stabbed my phone until I heard it ringing.

  “Canaan Sullivan.”

  His voice was gruff. Had I woken him up?

  “Canaan?” I cleared my throat. I should have probably called him Father, but I hadn’t quite gotten there on the respect scale yet. “This is Haven. You said there were things I needed to know. Well, here’s your opportunity to fill me in.” My tone was brusque so he couldn’t mistake this for a fun social call.

  “Haven. I was going to call you this morning, but didn’t have your number. I was waiting until the gallery opened. I have news, and I’m afraid it isn’t good.”

  “News?”

  “Yes. It’s regarding your aunt.”

  “Aunt Kathy?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid she’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh, no.” Even though I hadn’t seen her since I’d been back, it wasn’t because I hadn’t tried. “What happened?”

  “You know she’s been ill?”

  “I know she hasn’t been well. My friend’s mother mentioned something about that.”

  I could hear him sigh. “It’s a little more than that. Can you come to the rectory? Or I could pick you up if you’d like.”

  If he wants me to go to the rectory, it must be pretty bad. “Okay, you’re scaring me. You have to tell me.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.

  “Upset? You just told me my aunt is sick and then you ask me to come to the rectory. What did you expect? A Funfetti cake?”

  “Please, hear me out. I can’t seem to say the right things. She’s not in critical condition. The reason I asked you to come to the rectory was so I could explain things before we went to the hospital.”

  “Why would you go to the hospital? Is she dying?”

  He blew out his breath into the phone. “Haven, I’m making a mess of things. I’m going to the hospital because Kathy asked for a priest to visit. We could go together?”

  “We? Since when did we go anywhere together?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought since you didn’t know, you might want to go see her. Since I’m headed that way, I just…I shouldn’t have made that assumption.”

  Jesus, Haven, quit being such a bitch to him. He’s only trying to be nice.

  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s just that it’s a shock is all. I didn’t expect to hear this news when I called you.”

  “I understand. I can give you a ride if you’d like?”

  As I thought about it, that sounded reasonable. At least I wouldn’t have to face that fuckface Kent without reinforcement. “How about this? Why don’t I just meet you somewhere and save you the trip? That’s a long way to drive.”

  “I don’t mind and that will give me some time to tell you what I know about your aunt’s illness. And it’s not that far.”

  For some reason that I couldn’t explain, it made me uncomfortable to have him pick me up. “How about we compromise. I usually take the L and then transfer to the bus. Why don’t you pick me up there?”

  He agreed and I told him where and when.

  The L was still crammed with morning commuters when I boarded the train. Fear over Aunt Kathy’s health overrode my annoyance at the way they pushed and shoved to find a spot to anchor themselves. I never understood why people weren’t nicer when they commuted. The way I looked at it was we were all in the same boat, so why not smile? But they never did. The farthe
r away we got from the city, the more the crowd thinned on the train. When it was my time to get off, I was glad because I needed to hear about Aunt Kathy’s condition.

  I rushed down the stairs into the parking lot in search of Canaan and I finally located him. He was standing next to a car—his, I presumed. He waved when he saw me and I ran to him.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I said hesitantly.

  “No, I’m happy to do this.” He opened the door for me.

  When he sat behind the wheel, I expected him to start the car, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned in his seat and looked at me.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but I blurted out, “So, are we going or not?”

  “Oh, yes.” He started the car and drove like an old man. I wanted to push him out the door and drive myself. But I bit my tongue and sat on my hands instead.

  “Have you ever heard of lupus?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know much about it at all.”

  “That’s what Kathy has. It’s an autoimmune disease and can be relatively mild, but in your aunt’s case, she has the kind that unfortunately has progressed. It’s now affecting her lungs and heart. Haven, there is no cure. They can only manage the symptoms.”

  Aunt Kathy. An incurable disease. This wasn’t happening.

  “Is she dying?”

  “She’s not critical if that’s what you’re asking, but I’m sure the doctors will be able to tell us more. That is, if your aunt will allow them with the HIPPA laws.”

  “O-okay,” I whisper. My mom first and now maybe Aunt Kathy. Even though I didn’t spend much time with her over the last few years, she was still the only remaining family I had. If she died, I’d be alone. And that thought left me feeling terribly lonely.

  “Haven, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

  I scoffed, “I guess God was looking out for me after all.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Staring at him pointedly, I said, “If Aunt Kathy had died before I was able to move out, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead. I think the only reason the asshole didn’t beat me to death was because of her.” As soon as those horrible words left my mouth, I realized how true they were.

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “But I do. She had it as bad as I did, or maybe worse.”

  “How’s that?”

  “She’d lure him away from me with the promise of sex so he’d leave me alone. At least I escaped that side of it. Except I had to hear it at night and the things he said during. It made me sick. And I didn’t understand then or now why she wouldn’t leave him. I begged her, but she was as afraid as I was. Then I wasn’t in any position to help her. Things have changed. God, how I hate him. You don’t understand what it’s like to hate someone that much. Why couldn’t he have been the one to get sick? Sometimes things are so unfair. Aunt Kathy is just like my mom—kind and sweet. Neither of them deserved this. And that’s why I don’t buy into your God and church and all those fancy teachings of yours.”

  “They’re not my teachings, Haven.”

  “Whatever. Look, can you drive a little faster? At this rate, we won’t get there until the end of the week.”

  He quickly glanced at me, then back at the road, but didn’t speak. The car did speed up somewhat, though.

  “I should warn you, I’m not looking forward to seeing my uncle. I can’t guarantee I’ll be nice to him.”

  “Try to think of your aunt. She needs you now. Maybe that will help.”

  “I doubt it.”

  As we drove, I thought about Aunt Kathy. But then I remembered the reason I had called Canaan in the first place. So I said, “Oh, I called you this morning for a reason, but I got sidetracked when you brought up my aunt. Last night when I ran into you, you said I didn’t know everything. What exactly were you talking about?”

  He didn’t respond, but I noticed how his hands tightened on the steering wheel. It looked like his knuckles were going to pop right through his skin. He was silent and I didn’t think he was going to say anything else for the rest of the trip. His rigid posture and ashen complexion indicated whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  My vision held on to the road ahead as I tried to think of what to say next. A jumble of thoughts climbed the laborious trail to my lips, and bungee jumped out of my mouth.

  “Everyone has joyous days and not so joyous days. That day had been not so joyous and I took it out on you. Father O’Brien had left for his quarters, and it wasn’t a good thing for you to show up. Especially, since he would have probably been disrobing.”

  “How would you know that?”

  Her words were sharp and accusatory. I couldn’t seem to think straight around this woman.

  “He’d mentioned something about cleaning up.” Which was true. “I protected your virtue. And maybe if I hadn’t been in such a foul mood, I wouldn’t have scared you away. You could have talked to Father Matthews. And I have to live with my mistake.”

  “Virtue,” she muttered. “I didn’t have much of that then, nor do I now.”

  I quickly glanced over to see her picking at her nails.

  “Maybe one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  Her silence was deafening. I continued to ruin the moment. The quiet sank into the air until we arrived at the hospital.

  Once we were parked, she jumped out of the car but didn’t bolt for the door.

  “Haven, I apologize again.”

  “No, don’t. Just drop it. I really don’t want to talk about that day.”

  “What can I do?”

  “You can start by being my shield. The last thing I want to do is attempt murder in the hospital.”

  My lips curved into a rueful smile. “No, that wouldn’t be good.”

  She shook her head. “And not for the reasons you think. In actuality, I don’t want him dying in a place where they can revive him.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was serious or not, so I decided not to respond.

  “Do you know what room she’s in?”

  “Yes, on the fifth floor.” We found the elevators and rode them up in silence. She kept chewing her nails and rubbing her palms together, indicating how nervous she was.

  “It’s going to be all right,” I tried to ease her mind.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Easy for you to say. That will only be true when I never have to lay eyes on him again.”

  The doors swooshed open and I waited for her to walk out, but she stood there like a statue.

  “Haven? Are you going to get off?”

  Her arms wrapped around herself tighter, and she walked out. Clearly this was not going to be easy for her. We located Kathy’s room and tapped on the door. A nurse opened it and said it was okay to come in. Kathy was in bed and a doctor was with her. Oxygen tubes were attached to her nose, and her skin was pallid and drawn. I hid my surprise at her appearance. It was only a week since I had seen her, but the effects of the disease had certainly taken a heavy toll on her.

  “We can wait outside,” Haven said.

  “No, it’s fine. Dr. Wallace is finishing up and they were just talking,” the nurse said.

  Haven took hesitant steps through the door, and that’s when Kathy spotted her.

  “Haven? Is that you?” she asked in a weak and breathless voice.

  “Yes, Aunt Kathy.”

  “Come here right now.”

  She went to the bedside and the two women hugged for a long time. I glanced around the room and was happy to note Kent wasn’t present. I reached out my hand to the doctor and introduced myself.

  “I’m Father Canaan Sullivan.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Father. I’m Dr. Wallace, Mrs. Frederick’s pulmonologist. We were just talking about Haven. Mrs. Frederick was telling me about her talent as an artist.”

  “Yes, I’m not an art connoisseur, but I visited the gallery where her work is displayed and it’s captivating.”

  By that
time, the women had stopped hugging, and Dr. Wallace introduced himself to Haven. Then the three of them began discussing Kathy’s condition. Haven asked him a series of questions, after Kathy gave him permission to answer.

  “Aunt Kathy, you never even told me you were ill,” Haven admonished.

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “But this is even worse. I need to know these kinds of things.” She turned to the doctor. “Dr. Wallace, how long will she be in here?”

  “We are testing out some different medications to see if we can stabilize her pulmonary and cardiac function. As it stands, she will have to be on oxygen, but hopefully we can get it to the lowest concentration possible. She is progressing very well and I’m pleased with her response.”

  As he was speaking to her, the doctor’s gaze swept over Haven in a non-clinical way. I’d been on the receiving end of those looks and knew he found her attractive. And why wouldn’t he? She was a beautiful, young woman.

  “Doctor, are you saying that her condition is stabilized and her disease progression is halted?” Haven asked.

  “Yes and no. But we’re getting there. Our goal during this hospitalization is to get her controlled on the new medications we’ve put her on.”

  “I see,” Haven said.

  Their conversation was interrupted by Kent when he entered the room.

  “Ah, Mr. Frederick, your wife is doing much better this morning,” Dr. Wallace said.

  “Good morning, Kent,” I said.

  He nodded to both of us and then his eyes settled on Haven. “Well, look who’s come to pay a visit,” he sneered.

  The doctor, who was oblivious to the interchange, kept smiling at Haven, even though she had stiffened and her lips pressed into a thin line.

  Dr. Wallace’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, and read a message. “Duty calls, but Haven, I understand you have an art showing somewhere. Maybe I’ll get a chance to come and see it.”

  She turned, grabbed his arm, and led him out the door. I imagined it was because she didn’t want Kent to hear what she had to say.

  Kathy said, “Kent, Dr. Wallace believes I may be able to go home in a few more days.” It was hard for me to believe because right now she looked terrible.

 

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