A Beautiful Sin

by Terri E. Laine

  “Father Cernak?”

  It was all I could muster as I saw his back. I felt choked seeing his was marked with scars much like my own. I couldn’t breathe and I knew it wasn’t proper for me to be here. And I didn’t want Canaan in trouble.

  He turned, and God damned me because he was a study of perfection, even more so than I had dreamed. Every muscle of his was defined down to the V that dipped past the waistband of his pants.

  “He’s out for the night.”

  A shirt covered him far too soon for my liking as he sensed my penetrating stare. Then he reached in the drawer and pulled out other things. He stood before me, hands filled with articles of clothing, and I couldn’t think beyond the lust and questions that saturated my brain.

  “You should change out of your wet clothes. These will be too big for you, but they are all I have.” That was an understatement as he towered over me and handed me some clothes. “I’ll be in my office.”

  He practically ran out of the room, leaving me to watch his retreat. But I’d seen his eyes on my lips and felt his struggle as much as my own against the attraction we had for each other.

  Canaan

  With shaky hands, I poured myself a double. My bloody knuckles were a reminder that I needed to get Haven out of here. At the same time, she was someone in need. I could overcome the overwhelming desire to touch her and counsel her on her unwise choice to confront her uncle. No doubt the little spitfire had done exactly that. But why? And why had she gone there alone?

  The movement of fabric warned me of her presence as she came into the room. I grabbed another glass and poured her a drink.

  Turning, I was struck by seeing her in my clothes. They swallowed her, hanging off her smaller frame awkwardly. Only it made me want to know what was underneath that much more. I’d seen pictures of unclothed women, paintings of the human form when I’d studied art and in museums. But I’d never seen it in the flesh. And I hadn’t known how much I wanted to until she’d innocently rammed her way into my life.

  “Canaan.”

  She said my name so softly, yet it was what I needed to jerk me out of my untoward thoughts. She had the towel in her hand and pressed it to my knuckles as we stood gazing at each other. I had to break the spell.

  “Here,” I said, handing her the glass of amber liquid.

  She took it, leaving the towel behind. I watched her cradle the glass in her hand like it was a steaming cup of coffee. I closed my eyes, knowing that’s probably what she needed to ward off the cold, not alcohol. Before I could offer something else, she moved the glass to her lips, forcing me to swallow hot air down my parched lungs.

  I cleared my throat. “So tell me why you went there, Haven?”

  Haven

  I wasn’t ready to answer. Instead, I asked, “What is this?” holding up the glass.

  “Jack.” I watched him pour one for himself too. Then he said, “Now, will you tell me what happened?”

  I unloaded on him like a dump truck. “I went to see my aunt,” I began and didn’t leave out any of the details. Over the course of the few months I had known Canaan, I’d found out one very vital piece of information. I could not lie to him. And he wasn’t pleased in the least with my foolish actions. He let me know how reckless I’d been. Canaan was right. Kent could’ve taken it out on my aunt. It was selfish of me. I needed to do a better job of controlling my anger.

  “You need to contact the authorities.” I shook my head violently in opposition to his words. “I understand he’s a cop. But there has to be someone you can tell. You can’t continue to live in fear of this man.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I do. More than you know,” he said quietly.

  “No, you don’t,” I retorted.

  Out of the blue he hit me with, “Then why me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You could’ve called Macie. Why did you call me?”

  “I trust you.”

  “How could you trust me? You obviously don’t want my help. And let’s face it; if not for me and my secrets, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You would have gotten away from Kent.”

  “Secrets?”

  It was his turn to gesture No with his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore. You need to stay away from him...and me. I have enough guilt. If something happened to you…”

  His words trailed off and I was left to my restless thoughts. I wanted to ask more but was afraid he’d send me away.

  After three shots and on my fourth drink, I fell into the pond of his penetrating green eyes. I swam in their countless hues, drowning in their endless beauty, and tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. But the only words that floated around in my head were inappropriate for a priest’s ears, so all I did was stare and kept my thoughts to myself.

  Canaan

  Her eyes pinned me with hope and longing, dislodging my own feelings I thought I’d tucked away in a small corner of my heart.

  “You shouldn’t trust me either. I think you should go,” I said.

  I took the glass from her hand after putting down my own and placed hers next to it. Cupping her elbow, I led her out of the confines of my office. The four walls were too private and my thoughts were spiraling out of control.

  “What’s wrong, Canaan? Why are we going to the church?” she asked after we were almost to the doors of the sanctuary.

  She stopped in the middle of the walkway, and it was only then I looked up in surprise as to where we were. The rain had stopped, but there was still a damp chill in the air. I hadn’t meant to drag her here and end up right in front of the place where it all started.

  “I’m a cancer, a poison to the soul. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  My statements hung between us like a flimsy rope bridge in the middle of nowhere.

  “What’s going on? I don’t understand. And you were drinking before you came to get me, weren’t you? What happened to you?”

  Unable to answer, I turned toward the room where all my dreams had turned into nightmares.

  He stared at the door to the side of us with troubled eyes.

  “Don’t you see? I’m failing at this. I should be counseling you, not the other way around.” Pain echoed around each of his words.

  He was holding back and I latched on to something he’d said before. Secret. Whatever that secret was, I had a feeling it had to do with that night long ago. Wasn’t that what he was hinting at?

  “What happened here that day? My painting. I didn’t see it then, but I painted you with haunted eyes the same as I’d felt at the time.”

  His mouth clamped shut, and I saw the lock turning in his head.

  “Don’t do this. I deserve to know.”

  “Haven, please.”

  I charged forward and turned the knob. The door was unlocked and I stepped inside the sacristy. It was as I’d remembered it. Everything was put away in cabinets. The main piece in the room was the large table that boldly sat in the center.

  When I turned back, Canaan stood stricken with distress on the other side of the door as if he couldn’t bring himself to step over the threshold.

  The pieces of the puzzle were scattered in my brain, but I took a chance.

  “Was it here?”

  He paled to the color of chalk and sounded as though gravel was lodged in his throat when he spoke. “Was what here?”

  I moved further into the room and hopped up on the large table. When I glanced up, he looked as though he might faint. So I was getting close to whatever the secret was.

  “Is this where you got your scars?”

  His shock wore off and his jaw gritted tight as he said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

  And that was all it took to bring me back to that night. Tears welled in my eyes. I slid down to stand in front of the table. “That’s what you said to me that night.” I turned my back to him and removed his borrowed shirt. “And this is the result of your words.”
>
  The air he sucked in his lungs blew out as he said my name with so much remorse. “Oh, Haven.”

  I didn’t hear him move, only felt his hand touch my back and trace my scars. The contact was lightning in my blood and it struck me square in my heart.

  “I deserve to know what made you say those words to me.” I turned to face him, cradling the shirt to cover my breasts for his modesty’s sake, not my own. “I once thought you’d sent me away because I wasn’t worthy, or at best, you were an awful person. But now I know better. Something happened to you that day. Something made you cold. I need to know. I have to understand.”

  “Please, Haven. I can’t. Some secrets should remain buried.”

  Canaan

  Stepping forward, she dared me to admit the truth, “No, some secrets bury you. Whatever happened that day haunts us both. And your scars match my own.”

  She was right about everything. But I couldn’t uncap the cork I’d placed on the memories that threatened to expose my shame.

  “I saw your back. Someone hit you like my uncle hit me. You must know if anyone could understand it’s me. Did your father beat you?”

  My mouth dropped. “No, never. My father…” I shuddered to think she would tie the punishments at the hand of a monster to my dad. “He would never touch me. He’s a good man.”

  “Then who was it? And what does it have to do with this room?”

  “Haven, we’ve both had too much to drink. Let’s call a cab and get you home.”

  “No. Who. Hit. You?”

  The words flung out and stung me like a slap.

  “I did,” I shouted back.

  I stepped back as her abhorrence covered her face.

  “What?” she cried out.

  Her confusion made me keep my eyes closed.

  “Why would you do that?”

  The question was a legitimate one. I opened my eyes and faced her. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was my conscience. But the confession flew from my tongue, unburdening my soul.

  “I’m guilty. And he was right all along. And I deserve to be punished for all my sins.”

  “Punished? Who was right? And why would you need to punish yourself?”

  Her eyes were soft, but I didn’t deserve their warmth. She clutched my shirt to her breasts as she stood before me with the scars of her torment. I had been the cause for sending her straight into the hands of her demon.

  “Because I am temptation. Because I am tempted. Because I kept the truth to myself and others paid the price for my silence, including you.”

  It wasn’t enough. She was full of questions I didn’t want to answer.

  “What could possibly be so bad that you would punish yourself? What made you send me back to the house of the devil? What has you so spooked you look like you fear this room?”

  The weight of guilt pressed on me. I walked over to the table and gripped the sides. I longed for the strength of Samson so I could flip the damned thing over on it sides for all the horror it held. But I didn’t have it.

  Her hands landed on my back and she pushed the fabric of my shirt up, revealing my penance to her scrutiny. I shivered as her cool hands began to trace my scars much as I had hers moments before. I waited for the revulsion to hit me. Her standing behind me should force the memories of him to the foreground.

  I spun around as a wave of a different need crept over me. I stilled her hands as her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Haven, I am too weak. You have to go.”

  She stepped closer, backing me into the table. “I’ll leave when you tell me the truth.”

  “I can’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips trembled. “Well, how about this truth? After you sent me home that day, Uncle Kent tossed me in the basement. Made me strip.”

  “No.” The thought that he touched her the way Father O’Brien touched me caused bile to explode to the back of my throat.

  Her story was different though.

  “He beat me until I thought I would die. I told him I’d gone to church, and he didn’t believe me. Or maybe he did. Maybe he realized I’d planned to rat him out. So he hit me within an inch of my life or so it felt. So you tell me. What made you send me back to him?”

  Her confession guilted me into telling her the truth.

  “I couldn’t let you see Father O’Brien. I sent you away for your protection.”

  Her voice rose as understanding hadn’t hit her yet. “You said that before, and I still don’t understand.”

  The words burst from my mouth before I could stop them. “I didn’t want him to touch you like he touched me. I didn’t know then that he only liked boys.”

  She stepped back and covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God, Canaan.”

  “Don’t.” I gestured for her to stop as silent tears streamed down my face. “I don’t deserve your pity,” I said through clenched teeth. I clasped my hands in front of me to avoid striking that very table—the symbol of so much pain for so many years.

  “It’s not pity.” She wiped at tears on her own face. “I can’t believe I hated you, and you were only trying to protect me.”

  “And I failed.”

  She reached out and unclasped my hands. Her touch was such a balm to my soul, so I allowed her the simple act. She threaded her fingers through my own as she stared me down with a conviction I didn’t feel. “You didn’t fail. He failed you.”

  “But I did. I sent you away from one monster and into the hands of another.”

  Her sobs choked her words. “But you didn’t know. You had no idea, and I held my silence too.”

  “You don’t know the truth. He was right about everything. That time was the first of many of his lessons. And had I told someone, then maybe there would have only been the one time. Maybe no one else would have been used by him.”

  “You were just a child.”

  “So were you,” I countered back. But the dam had been broken, and I couldn’t hold back the words I’d hidden for so long. “The truth of it was I said nothing, not because of fear, but shame. How could I have explained to my parents that I’d found release by his hands during that nightmare? His touch shouldn’t have made my body betray me and my faith. But it did. And he laughed and told me I wanted it as much as he had. And I believed him.”

  Disgusted with me, she pulled back, releasing our hands. And I knew the truth would be the hammer that smashed the bonds between us. My heart ached as it was shattered by the same blow.

  Haven

  Tears fell from my eyes in torrents, mimicking the rain that had resumed its downpour outside. My heart was battered, much like Kent had done to my body, for the man before me. He’d been broken and demoralized by his tormentor, someone who was supposed to have been a man of God, and I’d thought I was the only one who suffered by the devil’s hands.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I said softly.

  “How wasn’t it?” he snapped.

  The guilt that formed his expression broke whatever morals I should have had. I strode to stand before him and did the unthinkable to a priest. I cupped his dick and felt him react to my touch. Our eyes locked and I breathed my next words. “You see, you are a good man, Canaan, a good priest. But you respond to me despite the conviction I know you have for your vows.”

  He didn’t remove my hand. I blamed shock and the revelation of a secret for his lack of brush off.

  “That’s the thing, Haven. For the longest time, I assumed I was gay. But I can tell you right now the thoughts that I have for you are not those of a gay man. All I want in this moment is to at least kiss you.”

  I was surely going to hell. “Then kiss me.”

  His hands moved to either side of my face and he leaned in. The press of his lips against mine was like a bomb going off. Reason fled and desire won out. More than anything, I wanted to erase the memories of his horror while erasing my own. I thrust my tongue into his virgin mouth and tasted the whiskey there. We were drunk on Jack, but more so on each
other.

  He may have been new to kissing, but he found his own as his tongue stroked against mine. I gripped his cock, but wanted more. I let go of the shirt that covered my breasts and reached for the waistband of his pants. I pushed at them, letting gravity take hold, springing his cock free. I hadn’t seen it yet because our kiss continued on, but I began to stroke him, needing him to understand two bodies didn’t care what their profession was or their gender.

  I used my free hand to remove one of his from my face. I placed it on my breast and was surprised by his gentle touch. I moaned in his mouth as his fingertips grazed over my nipple so tentatively until my strokes sped up. He was on the verge. I could tell when his grip grew bruising. I dropped to my knees, freeing myself from his capture. I wanted to taste him as he went over the edge. There was no time for rational thought. I just acted.

  His skin smelled of soap, but he tasted all man. He let out a shuddering gasp as I went as far as I could, sucking him until he reached the back of my throat. His fingers wound in my hair as I pulled back. It took only a few strokes before jets of cum squirted into my mouth. I took it all before releasing him.

  The rod of steel was still rigid and showed no signs of deflating.

  “Haven.”

  His eyes were husky and full of need.

  “Canaan, it’s your choice. I won’t take that away from you like he did.”

  Yes, I’d just sucked him off. But was he ready for the whole of it? And my body ached for his. I took a step back, giving him space to find his own answer.

  Canaan

  She stood bare from the waist up as my pants pooled at my feet and my shirt had been tossed somewhere behind us. The beauty that emitted from her was as deadly as it was glorious. Her breasts were as round and bountiful as they’d felt under my touch. And even though she’d done something to me I had abhorred the thought of before, she looked shy, almost afraid of how I would answer.