This whole night had exhausted me to the point where I was hardly able to stay on my feet. I must’ve swayed, because Canaan grabbed my arm.
“You need to sit.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really tired.”
“Here,” he said, walking me to a couch in a small den. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Do you have any liquor?”
“We do. What would you like?”
“Anything strong. My face is on fire.”
He left and came back with some amber liquid in a glass, two ibuprofen, water, and some more ice in a baggie. I accepted all, but took a huge gulp of the liquor first.
“Whiskey?” I asked.
“Bourbon. Bill enjoys it. I’m more of a vodka guy.”
“Same here. That and beer.”
He chuckled. “It seems we share identical tastes in spirits.”
I wondered what else we shared. It was disturbing being this close to him but not to be able to touch him. Why did he have to be a fucking priest?
“Why the frown?”
My eyes burned from fatigue and I rubbed them, but in the process inadvertently hit my cheek and flinched.
“What is it?”
That error saved me from having to answer. I couldn’t very well tell him I was pissed at him for being a priest. “I accidentally hit my cheek. It’s a bit sore.”
“You’re lucky he missed your eye. What will you tell them at the gallery?”
“Oh, fuck. I hadn’t thought about that.” Then I realized what I said. My hand covered my mouth.
“Haven, it’s not like I haven’t heard it before. Just because I’m a priest and don’t speak those words or let anyone say it in the house of our Lord doesn’t mean my ears are unsullied.”
My mouth curved, or I should’ve said the half that wasn’t swollen and cut did. “I just have this idea in my head that you’re so good. You know, immaculate.”
It was weird because it looked like the blood drained from the capillaries in his cheeks. His flesh paled, turning him anemic-like.
“I’m miles from that, believe me. So, work?”
Downing more bourbon, I said, “Yeah. I have no idea. I guess I’ll say I fell. I can’t tell them the truth. I know it’s lying, but to tell what really happened would—”
“Be the best thing for you and Kathy,” he cut in, “not to mention Kent. He has to be stopped. And now, will Kathy want to go on with her plans?”
“Oh, God! I hadn’t thought of that. I was in such paralysis after he struck me, I scarcely remember how I got out of there. I’m surprised he didn’t chase me down.” I tossed back the remains of my drink. The liquor had gone to my head since all I’d had for dinner was ice cream. It was late and I was drowsy. I leaned my head on the back of the couch with the intention of closing my eyes for a minute. What would Kathy do? I hoped he hadn’t hit her after I left. The rat-faced dick.
Stretching, I rolled on my side and was disoriented. My hair was a tangled nest, sprigs shooting out of the knotted bun I’d had it in. I pulled it free of the elastic and tried my best to sort it out. But it was still dark, and when I became accustomed to the light—or lack of it, I didn’t recognize the bed, or the room I was in. My hands massaged my forehead and brushed across my cheek when pain exploded, reminding me of what happened last night. Then I remembered being in the rectory, and Canaan and I talking. But whose bed was this? I sat up and looked around. There was a bathroom on the other side of the room, so I went to use it. I noticed men’s items, such as shaving things. Was this Canaan’s room? Did he put me to bed? I glanced down and I was fully dressed.
I washed my face as gently as I could stand it and used my finger to brush my teeth, borrowing his toothpaste. Then I walked out of the room, tiptoeing down the hall. I found my way into the den, where Canaan had contorted himself to fit on the couch. He was far too large to be sleeping there, but he gave up his bed for me. No doubt I must’ve conked out last night. It was only a little after five in the morning. I needed to get out of here. It would not do for anyone to see a woman leaving the rectory at this hour.
His face during sleep was even more perfect than while he was awake. Full lips, sculpted cheeks, high cheekbones—why did I have to find a man I wanted to touch my lips to over and over, only for him to be chaste and unable to be talked out of that decision because he was a priest to boot? I allowed myself the pleasure of staring at his innocent perfection for a few more minutes before waking him. He wore a short-sleeved T-shirt, and I’d never realized how muscular he was. I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to touch him, to slowly walk my fingers over his smooth flesh. His usually neat dark hair was tousled, out of place, making me want to smooth some order back into it.
Tapping his arm, I whispered, “Canaan.”
“Hmm.” He rose gracefully.
“You should’ve woken me up last night.”
He blinked, but I wasn’t sure if it was to shove the sleep away or to think. “You were weary. I didn’t want to.”
For a moment that was far too longer than it should’ve been, I swam in the forest green of his irises. It was only when he cleared his throat did I pull my gaze away from them.
“I have to go. It would not be good for someone to see me leaving.”
“Yes. Let me drive you.”
“No. I’ve been enough of an imposition.”
He slanted his head. “Why ever would you think that?”
“I should have never come here.” And I shouldn’t have. Canaan evoked too many things that were out of reach for me.
“I’m glad you did.” He bent to put on his shoes. “Come, I’ll take you home.”
I followed him out, knowing it was wrong. But I didn’t exactly feel safe going to the bus station alone at this time of early morning.
“I’ll let you take me to the L and that’s it. You have duties and I won’t take you from them. Don’t you have an early morning Mass to say?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then the L.”
He didn’t argue. When we arrived, I sat for a second. “Thank you. Again.” But when he pinned me with his gaze, something came over me, and I reached for him. I meant to kiss his cheek in a chaste thank you. But the closer I got, the more pull I felt. And as if he felt it too, he turned in time for my lips to press to his. Foolishly, I wanted that contact again.
Again, he was the one to pull back, breaking that connection I felt. Hurriedly, he said, “Haven, we can’t. I can’t. I have…I’m married…”
He tripped over his words much like my heart skipped several beats.
“To the church. I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
I put my hand to my lips as I hurried away from his car. Why did it seem like his kiss burned a path straight to my soul? The rejection burned even though I knew a million reasons why he could never reciprocate. Even worse, he was the only man who ever made me feel good anyway. And not sexually either. He made me feel worthy of his tenderness and not like some harlot. I had taken advantage of him.
When I got home, the sun was poking its rays into our apartment. I put on a pot of coffee and waited for it to brew. What was wrong with me? Men had never been something I’d spent more than a fleeting thought on. Why now? Why Canaan? As I agonized over it, a hand landed on my shoulder and I screamed. Then Macie screamed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Nothing! I thought you heard me.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Jaysus, what the hell has you so jumpy?”
I had to tell her. It was something that needed to be discussed and I had to get it off of my chest.
But before I could say anything, she yelped, “What the fuck happened to you? Your cheek and lip?”
So I rolled it all out. “Kent nailed me last night. But that’s only part of it.”
“What?”
I gave her all the dirty details, up to where I ended up at Holy Cross Church.
“Holy Cross? Why�
�d you go there?”
I grabbed my head. “No idea other than that’s where I went that one time. I don’t even remember walking there. Or running.” And then I told her about the part with Canaan.
“So let me get this straight.” She ticked off the details, finishing with, “And you woke up in his bed. Do I have it about right?”
“Yep. You’ve got it right.”
“Criminy jickets. You slept in hot priest’s bed?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “There’s a little more.”
She grabbed my arms. “What?”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not that lewd. But I kissed him.”
“Holy Mary, mother of God!”
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
“Where’s the holy water?”
“Exactly.”
“You actually kissed a Roman Catholic priest?” she asked while fanning herself.
“Yes. But it wasn’t the first time.”
“What the fuck? What do you mean there was a second time?”
“The first time happened when I was a little drunk and he said he’d never been kissed before.”
“Hold up! Why were you talking about kissing to him?” She sat and matched my pose and angled her head in her hand so we looked each other squarely in the eye.
“I don’t even know.”
“Okay, okay. Now back to the kiss. Was there tongue?”
“No tongue. He practically ran out of the bar.”
“Wait a minute! You were on a date?”
“No!” Finally, I spilled my guts, telling her everything that happened with the first kiss.
“You know you’re going to hell, right? Where’s your rosary? We should start praying now,” she declared.
“I know,” I whined.
“You’re like a Jezebel or something.”
“Thanks, Mace. Thanks for your support. It’s not like I meant it. I shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
She stared at me for a long while. “It was a drunken mistake. Maybe you should apologize. Then you can see him again. If he gets flustered, you know he’s interested.”
“You are so not helping.”
She sat up and put her hands on her hips. “You know I’m teasing, right? He’s so off-limits no matter how hot he is.”
“It’s too late for the apology, because I kissed him again, remember?”
“Oh shit. You did say that. Haven! What the exact fuck are you doing here?”
“I don’t know.” I dropped my head in my hands. It didn’t stay there for long because Macie pulled it up by the unrecognizable excuse of a bun I had going on back there.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“Now give me the entire scoop from beginning to end.” And I did, including all the bits and pieces of how utterly beautiful he was and how pissed off he was at Kent.
She scratched her chin. “He likes you too. But you two are star-crossed. There is no way on this Earth should you ever see him again.”
“I know. He’s the only man I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”
“You need to go out with another man and get this Canaan out of your system.”
“There is the doctor.”
Her eyes went wide. “Doctor?”
I filled her in on that part of the story.
“Deffo call him ASAP. Oh my God, a doctor.” She clobbered my shoulder. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Ouch.” I rubbed the sore spot.
She pointed a finger at my face and circled it around. “Now what are you going to do about that?”
“Hope no one notices?”
“Okay, and how do think that’ll work for you?”
“It’s not that bad,” I huffed. Of course it was terrible. “A day or two of ice and some makeup will do the trick. I’ll call Jonathon today and tell him I have a migraine.”
The height of Macie’s eyebrows told me all I needed to know. But it was going to have to do for now. And what about my aunt? What had happened to her after I left? Was she safe? Had Kent hurt her? Anxiety over her had my belly swimming with sharks. But my worst problem was my heart. Even though I told myself I was being silly, I couldn’t stop thinking about Canaan. And why the hell did I allow that to happen?
My heart thumped wildly, giving me the sensation of suffocating. It was something I hadn’t felt since the day I entered the sacristy when I returned to Holy Cross. But this time it was for a very different reason—Haven. She was the last thing that should be on my mind. I had no business thinking of her this way. I was a priest, married to the church, sworn to live a life of celibacy. Pull yourself together, Canaan.
How could I do my priestly duties—celebrate Mass, pray for people, administer the sacraments, counsel others—when I was in such turmoil and committing these grave sins by my unholy thoughts? Perspiration dripped down my forehead and cheeks in rivulets, stinging my eyes, and I blinked repeatedly, attempting to clear my vision. When I got home, I was dismayed to see I didn’t have time for a punishing run. I would have to suffer the pain of the belt and hope it would suffice for now. Since Bill was gone, I was sure to make the blows count in their strength and ferocity.
During Mass, I was reminded of my self-abasement each time I moved. The burn the leather left behind was a reminder of my repentance and a plea for mercy to ask Jesus to cleanse my soul from the sins that sullied it.
Instead, the evocation of Haven’s memory and how her lips felt—how soft they were against my own—burned hotter than Hell’s fire within me. Her scent, the soothing properties of lavender, was counterproductive. They flooded my being with agitated excitement when she elicited the nefarious kiss, tormenting me with the need to inhale every tiny bit of her. I didn’t know how I found the strength to push her away. Only if I hadn’t, I would’ve thrust my tongue into her mouth, because that was all I thought about. Was there a way to make this stop?
I pushed through the Mass, and afterward, with no discernment of how I’d done it. The whole undertaking was a blur. Even entering the sacristy hadn’t had time to weigh on me. Taking off the vestments, I sat down heavy-hearted.
The answer came swift and true. I could see I wouldn’t be able to have any contact with Haven again. The temptation was far too strong for my weak spirit. As though my brain were detached from my body, I stumbled to the prayer station and fell to my knees. Awareness clutched at me when I understood that Father O’Brien had been right all along. I was that sinner. My soul was tarnished. I was the embodiment of temptation. And ultimately, I was hurting Haven by being near her.
As the day wore on, I knew what had to be done.
Bill would be home later that day, and I’d promised Haven I would check up on Kathy. So I placed a call to her to see how she fared.
“Hello.”
“Kathy, this is Father Sullivan. I wanted to see how you were doing?”
She paused for a long moment and said, “I’m doing okay, I guess.”
Her voice held a cautious wariness I understood too well.
“Are you feeling well?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Would you mind if I came to see you?”
“Uh, I suppose that would be okay. Can you come before my husband gets home from work?”
“I can. When will that be?”
“He usually gets home around four thirty.”
We decided right away would be best. When I arrived, she opened the door, and it shocked me to see how far she’d regressed. In that moment, we were twin spirits, her haunted eyes mirrors of my own from long ago. Only one who’s been defeated would recognize the truth they held. She took a seat on the couch and huddled there like a woman twice her age. Concern for her safety pushed me to speak.
“Kathy, I need to ask you something. Did Kent hit you last night?”
She slumped forward and stared straight into her lap, remaining as still as a statue. I refused to break the silence, giving her the time she ne
eded to compose her thoughts.
“He hit my niece last night. Twice. It was terrible. She ran out of here, and I’ve been so worried about her I’ve been unable to sleep at all. I didn’t dare call her because he was here, watching my every move. He took my phone from me and didn’t give it back until he went to work. And now I’m too ashamed to call her.”
I understood her more than I could admit.
“Did he hurt you?”
Her head moved back and forth. “No. But I would’ve rather he hit me than Haven. She stood up to him. I think she was afraid he would hit me. He overheard us talking about me leaving. We didn’t hear him come in. I’ll never be able to leave him now. He knows. He told me if I tried to leave, he would hurt Haven.”
I sighed. “Kathy, this is very serious. We need to file an order of protection with the police.”
“Father, you don’t understand. If we do that, he would make it go away. It would be my word against his.”
I wasn’t sure if she was right or not, but she was convinced of it. I couldn’t act without her wanting me to. My hands were tied. And I didn’t want to push her because if, on the outside chance that something did happen, I would have to live with the burden of it.
“Okay, promise me if anything happens where you need help, you’ll call the authorities and me.”
“Yes, I will.”
We prayed together before I left. I continued to pray for Kathy’s safety and health the entire journey home. It seemed it was raining bad news from all angles.
When I returned to the rectory, I hadn’t been there for more than five minutes when the police arrived. The first thing that came to mind was Kent Frederick. But that wasn’t why they were here.
“Hi, we’re detectives with the Berwyn PD. I’m John Hernandez, and this is Scott Collins. We’re here to discuss the death of Father O’Brien.”
I remembered Bill telling me the police had been around asking questions.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Father Canaan Sullivan, and you’ll probably need to talk to Father Bill Cernak. Unfortunately, he’s out of town at the moment. I’m new and wasn’t here when Father O’Brien passed away.”
They glanced at each other for a second, then John Hernandez said, “That’s fine. Can we have a minute of your time anyway? This shouldn’t take long.”
A Beautiful Sin Page 13