“How goes it?” he asked.
“It goes.”
“Ah, she smiles. It must be good.”
“I can only hope. What’s up?”
“One, it’s going on eight.”
“Shit!”
“Thought you’d want to know. And two, that priest who was here the other day is back. He’s asked for you.” Jonathon had that questioning look about him.
“Canaan?” What does he want? I know it can’t be my aunt because the hospital would’ve called since she added me to the list.
“Didn’t give a name. Just asked for you.”
“Send him back.”
“Haven, are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
He shrugged and left. A moment later Canaan walked through the door.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No. Time to wrap it up anyway. I’ve been at it since I got back from the hospital.”
“Do you mind if I take a look?” he asked.
“Suit yourself.” My frosty tone didn’t deter him in the slightest.
He walked around the canvas and stood next to me. “How do you figure this stuff out?”
“Figure what out?” I asked as I cleaned my brushes.
“Where to put everything?”
Was he serious? “I’m an artist. It’s what I do. How do you figure your church stuff out? It’s your thing. This is mine,” I snapped.
“You’re very talented. It’s a blessing from God.”
“Back to God, huh? Thought I already told you I don’t buy into your God crap and all that Catholic nonsense. Those things I learned in school.”
“I’m not here to argue the merits of God and Catholicism, although I am first a priest and a theologian, so it’s difficult for me not to weigh in on this. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. But I have to say this—God sometimes gives us things—certain talents, and He blessed you with your ability to paint wondrous things.”
“Hmm. Well, you can tell your God ‘Thanks.’ He did help me. Because I sketched to escape the fucking Hell I lived in, if the truth be told,” I said in the most scathing manner I could muster. “It was the only thing that kept me sane, only I had to hide it from Uncle Kreep.” I couldn’t even imagine the sneer that was plastered on my face.
He held up his hands like he was under arrest. “Please, let’s not argue. I didn’t come here for that. You were upset when we left the hospital.”
I waved him away. “Kent’s a goddamn asshole. There’s nothing new there. Why are you here? What did you have to tell me?”
“I went back to visit your aunt late this afternoon and she looked much better. Her color had improved. Her cheeks were actually a bit pink. It’s amazing what oxygen, or maybe the lack of, will do to you.”
I drooped with relief and words spilled out of me. “I was so worried. That makes me feel much better.” Without a thought, I put my hand on his arm and I could’ve sworn he jerked. He held his arm still, but I could feel his muscles tense beneath my touch.
“There’s something else.”
“What?” And then it happened. I gawked at the priest. Maybe it was because I was relieved that my aunt was doing better. That simple fact had diffused my anger enough for me to look at him—really look at him. And damn if the man wasn’t more beautiful than people claim Michelangelo’s David to be.
“Is everything okay?”
Quickly, I averted my gaze, realizing I had been gaping at him. No doubt I wasn’t the first.
“No, I’m hungry. I’ve been painting all day and didn’t stop to eat.”
“I haven’t either. I have something else to talk to you about, but since you’ve worked late, and so have I, maybe you would you like to grab something to eat and drink with me? We could talk then.”
For a second I deliberated. This was my nemesis standing before me, but now he was asking me to break bread. My stomach could definitely do with some fuel since I hadn’t eaten. He dangled that damn carrot and before I could put any more thought into it, I blurted, “Okay. Give me a minute to change out of my work clothes.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait out front.”
A short time later, I joined him wearing the same clothes I wore to the hospital. I was glad he was a priest and that I didn’t have to worry about impressing him. We left after I told Jonathon I’d see him the next day.
“Do you mind sitting at the bar?” I asked, ending up a few blocks away at a place that had good food.
“No, that’s fine.”
We snagged two stools in the back and asked for a couple of menus. I recommended the burgers and the fish and chips. We ordered our food and beers. The beers arrived and we clinked bottles.
“Tell me what was so important that you came all the way downtown to talk to me.”
What he told me shocked the shit out of me.
“I had a talk with your uncle. I expressed my concern over the way he spoke to you.”
“You did what?”
I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks. It always dumbfounded me as to how my face could go from normal to a thousand degrees in half a second. My chin hit my chest so he wouldn’t notice my humiliation, but I was sure I was too late.
“Haven, he was so far out of line when he said those terrible things to you and insulted your mother as well. I told him it was a grave sin to do so. He wasn’t pleased, as you can imagine, and he told me to keep my nose out of his business. We went back and forth, but in the end, I told him if he couldn’t say anything positive about you, then he should keep his sinful words to himself.”
For the longest time, I could only stare at Canaan. Any time I tried to speak, the words became locked up tightly in my larynx, as though someone was fisting it and not allowing them to pass through. Never in my life had anyone ever defended me. Aunt Kathy, in her own way, had tried, but her terror had prevented her from standing up and speaking out. This was entirely different. It was the same as Canaan saying he went to war for me. Me, Haven Richardson. Once again my face heated, but this time it wasn’t with shame. It was with gratitude. My palm stretched over my heart as I said brokenly, “Thank you for doing that. No one’s ever…” My voice cracked as I swallowed the burgeoning thickness in my throat. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. The day my mom died, I came home from school and was immediately forced to pack all my things. My life with him began then, and until this moment, I’ve never had anyone stand up for me.” I offered him a weak smile.
“After this morning, it didn’t sit well with me, so I had to have that discussion with him. Haven, it probably won’t do any good, but at least I let him know that type of behavior is not acceptable and is sinful.”
I nodded, agreeing. “I still thank you. At least you tried. I wish I could punch him.”
“Believe me, I had a moment of wishing for the same thing.”
“For real?”
“For real. I’m a priest, but I’m still human. And that guy pushed my buttons.”
“And he shows he’s like the rest of us.” The best I could offer was a watery smile. My eyes, though teary, were filled with gratitude, not sorrow.
“Priests aren’t immune to real life problems.”
Our eyes connected, and I wondered what he was trying to say. I saw a man who had once been my crush and the attraction I felt hadn’t changed. With my anger dulled, it was hard not to notice his kissable lips. So when the bartender placed our food in front of us and Canaan said a blessing, I almost told him to pray for my inappropriate thoughts of him. And that was weird for me since I’d never done that before. Not wanting to bring attention to that detail, I bowed my head and said nothing while he prayed.
Between bites of his burger, he asked, “How was your afternoon?”
“Good. Well, you saw that I started another painting. By the way, the one I did—you know, the one you’re in?” He nodded. “It sold this morning.”
“Congratulations! That’s great news for you.”
I bit my lips to keep from smiling. “Yeah.” I was so freaking excited that I blurted out, “And you wouldn’t believe what the price point was.”
“What?”
Then I stopped and thought about what I was about to say. Why did I do that? It was not okay to announce things like that. It reeked of bragging. And that was the kind of information I did not want to share with most people, even Canaan, since we had only recently struck up a semblance of a friendship.
Before I had the chance to say anything, his perception clued him in. “It’s okay, Haven. You don’t have to tell me.”
My shoulders slumped as I grimaced. “I’m sorry. I should have never brought that up. It was a little boastful.”
“No, it wasn’t. You’re an up and coming artist and you’ve been discovered, so I think it’s something to be proud of. I don’t consider that boastful at all. I’d love to share your excitement with you.” He picked up his beer bottle. “Here’s to many more successful sales and beautiful paintings.”
We clinked bottles again and I thanked him.
“I’m actually surprised I caught you. I thought for sure you would be out.”
“Me, no, I would have picked up something and made an early night of it.”
“Really, I thought you’d be with your friend or someone else special.”
My head jerked at his statement. “You mean like Macie or a boyfriend?”
He chuckled. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Um, no. Macie’s busy tonight. And I don’t do the boyfriend thing.” My head quickly shook back and forth. I was pretty sure I looked like a dog shaking water off its body.
He raised a quizzical brow. “And why’s that? I would think you’d be chasing them away.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not and won’t ever be. That doctor, Wallace, you know, Aunt Kathy’s doctor? He asked me out this morning. I’m not sure how to handle that. He’s going to stop by the gallery this week.”
Canaan sat back in his stool and crossed his arms. His perusal of me made me squirm. “Why don’t you date? You’re young and…” He paused and I could see color rising in his cheeks. “You’re young. You should be out dating to find the one.”
“The one,” I scoffed. “Men aren’t trustworthy. They, well, they want things I can’t give. And I’m not going to put myself in a situation where I’ll feel trapped ever again.”
His eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
My lips pressed together as I remembered all those nights I heard Aunt Kathy. Shuddering, I looked Canaan squarely in the eyes. “I saw what Aunt Kathy went through. I won’t put myself in jeopardy of facing that. Her husband is supposed to be this great guy. Everyone thinks he’s wonderful. But he’s not.” I leaned into him and muttered, “The only time she could manage his temper was when they were getting it on. I heard it at night. I would put my pillow over my head to drown out the awful noises. No thanks.”
He rested his head on his hand. “Not all men are like that. Surely you know that. There are plenty of good men who would never hurt a woman. Kent isn’t good; I’ll give you that. And Kathy shouldn’t have stayed to suffer like that. But that doesn’t mean you would end up with someone like him.”
Without looking at him, I whispered, “My experience with men is on my terms.”
“Your terms?”
He was a priest. How could he understand that when I needed what a man offered, I picked them up, brought them home or went to their places for one night only? And that was it. I didn’t want anything else from them. They were of no use to me. I polished off my first beer and signaled for another.
“Nothing really. I don’t do long term, that’s all.”
“Will you make me a promise?”
The waitress arrived but said nothing as she sat my fresh beer down.
“Depends.”
“Are you going to go out with the doctor?”
“I can’t say.”
“You should go. Give him a chance that you haven’t given anyone else. Just one time at least. If you like him, then go again, but please try. He could be that one good guy.”
That made me laugh. Hard. “How the hell would you know? You’re a priest.”
“Just because I’m a priest doesn’t make me an idiot.”
The warmth of his smile heated me more than it should. Forcing myself to ignore it, I thought about what he said. He was right. He wasn’t stupid.
“Well then, tell me about your experience. How many girls did you go out with before you decided that the church would be your bride?”
His spine stiffened to the point I was sure it was made out of rebar. Two spots of scarlet appeared high on his sculpted cheekbones. Hmm. I’d hit on a tender point here. Had he been in love?
“None.”
His curt answer debunked my theory. So then why the reaction?
“None? Never?”
“Never. Zero.”
“You never had any interest in girls? Are you gay?”
The scarlet spots turned into a rosy flush that spread down his neck. There had to be something more to this.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested in girls. I only said I never dated or went out with any.”
“Okay, then how many girls did you kiss?”
He squirmed in his seat, and the flush faded a bit, but he answered, “None.”
“No girls, no dating, no kissing, anyone? What’s up here, Canaan?”
“I had a calling.” His voice was low and he looked at me oddly. He was so beautiful. I found it hard to believe a girl had never tried to kiss him.
“Calling? You should know that every girl in school crushed on you.”
“Every girl?” he asked with one sardonic brow raised.
I took a deep swallow of liquid courage, polishing off my beer before I set it down with a thud.
“Fine, I have a confession to make. Every girl seriously crushed on you, including me. You were the hot altar boy that all the girls wanted. That’s why this is so hard to swallow.”
We looked at each other, and when I thought he would laugh at what I’d said, he only stared with his lips slightly parted.
“I don’t know what to say besides I didn’t deserve any of the attention.”
“Does it bother you to have all that attention?”
He stared at me for a while. “As I said, I’m no better than anyone else. At that time, there were so many things going on in my head.”
I can’t say why I pressed this conversation other than the alcohol was fuel for my empty stomach.
“Do you regret not ever kissing someone?”
“I have a great many regrets.”
I knew I was going to hell and probably shouldn’t do it. But for some awful reason, I couldn’t stop myself. I rose out of my seat and leaned across the distance. I sank my fingers into his arms and pulled him toward me. Shock registered on his face a second before I pressed my lips against his. That’s all. It wasn’t an invasive kind of kiss, only the chaste kind.
My memory took me back to when I was young and dreamed of how my first kiss would be. I had this notion that my lips would tingle and my stomach would have a swarm of butterflies fluttering their feathery wings inside of me. In actuality, my first kiss was nothing but a gross, slobbery mess. This, however, was what my first kiss should have been.
In the short time our lips were fused together, my heart skipped, my belly danced as though it were filled with hummingbirds, and my skin buzzed as a current of fire zipped through me. When I dragged my mouth away from his, stunned could best describe how I felt.
My hand covered my mouth because I was certain I was mistaken. I couldn’t possibly have felt those things. Those were the things of fairy tales and romance novels, things I surely didn’t believe in, for I knew of life’s harsh realities. But when I opened my eyes, his forest green ones stared back at me with a potency that couldn’t be denied. One, two, and three blinks later convinced me my feelings were rea
l and not the imaginary sort.
Finally, I spoke. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” he whispered. He pulled out his wallet and grabbed some bills out. Laying them on the bar, he said, “Do you have a way home?”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry, Haven. But it’s best if I go.”
My concentration over the past week had been a hopeless mess of scattered pieces. Bill must have thought I’d lost my mind, and maybe I had. My homilies at the Sunday Masses were disjointed and difficult to follow. The confused expressions on the faces of the parishioners told me far more than I needed to know.
One chaste kiss from a woman I barely knew knocked me for a loop, and I wasn’t sure how to pull the bits of my muddled brain together. Every time I tried to refocus, change my aim, all I seemed to recall were the softness of her lips, the lavender scent that surrounded her, and the way her fingers pressed into my flesh. I always hated to be touched. But not by her. Haven. A name that was so close to heaven.
Acting was my forte, concealing my feelings from the world, forced into it by Father O’Brien. But on Monday, when Bill was called out of town because of an ailing family member, I failed miserably at it. I knew he fretted about leaving everything in my less than capable hands. I assured him, with as much false bravado as I was capable of conjuring, that all would be fine, even though my self-doubts were monumental.
The following morning I made my rounds in the hospital, visiting a few parishioners, including Kathy Frederick. She looked like a completely different person and told me she would be going home the following day. What should’ve been happy news from her came across as being the opposite.
“Kathy, is everything okay?”
She nodded as she fumbled with her blanket. Not meeting my gaze, she asked, “Father, how should I handle Kent?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking.” Her eyes darted around the room, reminding me of a frightened rabbit. “Are you afraid of him?”
“He hasn’t hurt me since I’ve been sick.”
“Should I have a word with him?”
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Good Lord, no. That would surely set him off. If he ever knew I discussed this with you, that would be the end of me.”
A Beautiful Sin Page 10