Act of Contrition

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Act of Contrition Page 23

by Linda Rettstatt


  “A chance for what?”

  “A chance to be happy.”

  Breathing became a challenge. She closed her eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath, letting it out slowly. “Has it occurred to you that since we keep coming together and splitting apart, maybe we’re not meant to be together?”

  “I thought of that. Then I realized that I’m happier when I’m with you than when I’m not. That has to count for something. Look, it’s late and I know I sprang this on you over the phone. Have dinner with me on Saturday when we can talk face-to-face.”

  “Saturday? I don’t… I’m not sure.” But she was sure. She was sure that she had always loved Patrick, would always love Patrick. Tears clogged her throat and she swallowed hard.

  “Jenny, just say yes.”

  “Yes,” she croaked.

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “But…wait. Patrick, is this a conversation for a restaurant?”

  “Good thinking. I’ll come to your place, and I’ll bring dinner. Oh, by the way, I met briefly with Tammy and I’m looking forward to the work. I’m looking forward to a lot of things.”

  With that, he said goodnight and hung up.

  Jenny stared at the phone, her hand trembling. She had a date. With Patrick.

  ****

  Ashley was Jenny’s first line of reasoning. She was little help, however. “Jen, you’re ready to move on. And that doesn’t mean you’re betraying anyone else. It’s time, and this guy really loves you. Give him a chance. Hell, give yourself a chance.”

  “You’re supposed to talk me out of this, Ash. What kind of friend are you, anyway?”

  Ashley laughed. “The kind that wants the best for you.” She yawned. “And the kind that lives in California, where it’s three hours earlier.”

  Jenny glanced at the wall clock. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. It’s only five a.m. out there.”

  “That’s okay. I have an early meeting anyway. How is everything else there?”

  “Going well. Everyone is doing a great job. Barrett is doing an especially good job of driving me crazy, but I’ve managed to handle it. How about you?”

  “I love it out here. I’ve assembled a fantastic staff and this office is set to go. Edgar’s coming out next week to meet everyone. And I met someone.”

  “Get out.”

  “We’ve only been out a few times, but I really like him, and he isn’t threatened by my career.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “Marcos. He’s from Barcelona originally and he owns a vineyard in Napa Valley.”

  “Oooh, a sexy Latin man. And it’s perfect he owns a vineyard since you’re something of a wine connoisseur. How did you meet?”

  “At a wine tasting event.”

  “I’m happy for you, Ash. I can’t wait to meet him some day.”

  “And now you know how I want to feel—happy for you. Jen, give things with Patrick a chance. What have you got to lose?”

  What’s left of my heart? “I’ll talk to you next week after he and I talk. Sorry I woke you so early.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  Jenny ended the call and sat with the phone in her hand. Forgiven.

  After a quick shower, she dressed and headed across town.

  Gavin met her at the front door of the rectory. “What’s going on? You sounded upset on the phone.”

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?” she asked when Mrs. Colonna stepped into the hall and stared at them.

  “Sure. Father Mariani’s having a meeting in the dining room. We can go over to the church. It’s empty now.” He grabbed his jacket and she followed him out the back door.

  The church was dark and quiet. Jenny pulled her jacket closer against the chill as Gavin led her to a small room off the sanctuary where two upholstered chairs faced one another. “Have a seat.”

  “I didn’t realize they had sitting rooms in churches.”

  “It’s not exactly a sitting room. It’s a confessional.”

  “I thought a confessional was a little, dark box with a screen in between.” Jenny had been raised Catholic, but apparently changes had occurred since she was an active member of the church.

  “Welcome to the new era. And it’s not exactly new, but you’ve been out of the loop.”

  “I was also raised in a very small, very traditional parish.”

  “There are still a few of those around. Sit down.”

  Jenny regarded the chair as if it might swallow her whole.

  “It won’t bite. And it’s not wired to force the truth out of you.”

  She dropped into the chair. “I always tell the truth.”

  He sat down and lifted an eyebrow. “Always? Even I don’t always tell the exact truth.” He slipped out of his jacket and dropped it on the floor beside his chair. “What’s this about?”

  Jenny dragged a hand through her hair. “Patrick. He’s here in Boston. He wants to have dinner.”

  “With you, or just in general wants to eat?”

  She scowled at him. “This isn’t funny, Gavin.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He straightened in his chair.

  “He wants to see if we can… He thinks we’re meant to be together.”

  “Maybe you are.”

  “And maybe we’re not. So much has happened. It’s complicated.”

  “You’re right.”

  She blinked. “I am?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell Ashley when I talked with her earlier.”

  He looked down at his watch. “You spoke with Ashley already this morning?”

  She sighed. “I didn’t consider the time difference.”

  “It’s amazing you have any friends left at all.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He leaned forward, locking his gaze with hers. “Let’s see. You ask your friends for advice, but then you never take it. Your friends tell you they care about you, but half the time you act like you don’t believe it, or that you don’t deserve their care. You say they’re right and that you need to move on, but then you refuse to do just that. And then you panic and wake them up at, what, five a.m.?”

  Jenny sank lower in the chair. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “Am I that bad?”

  Gavin shook his head. “No. You’re not bad. You’re human. Unfortunately, you’re the last one to realize it.”

  She wiped a tear with the back of her hand. “What am I going to do?”

  “That depends. What do you want to do?”

  She waited, expecting the sadness to wash over her. It didn’t. Not the tidal wave that usually stripped her of the will to move. Instead, when she closed her eyes, she saw Cooper’s face smiling brightly as he pointed toward the island and said, “I saw a dragon over there.”

  “I need to believe,” she murmured.

  “What did you say?”

  Meeting Gavin’s eyes, she said, “I need to believe.” She took in a deep breath. “Gavin, I want you to hear my confession.”

  He nodded, then bowed his head, wove his fingers together, and waited.

  Jenny bit her bottom lip as she considered what she wanted to say. “I haven’t done this in years. I’m not sure I know how.”

  Without looking up, Gavin said, “Speak what’s on your heart.”

  “Shouldn’t you start with a prayer or something?”

  He glanced up from hooded eyes. “I’m afraid to break the spell of the moment. You go ahead.”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all the hurt I’ve caused the people who loved me. I hurt Patrick. I disappointed my grandparents. I wasn’t honest with Matt and ruined his life. And C-Cooper… God, I’m so sorry.”

  A few minutes passed in silence, and then Gavin looked up at her. “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  Gavin bowed his head again and prayed, “Loving God, you’ve heard the admissions of your daughter, Jennifer. We pray t
hat, in your loving compassion, her sins are forgiven her. We ask that you restore her soul and heal her heart. Open her heart to Your love and to the love that is hers through Jesus Christ, your Son. Help her to accept the love and forgiveness of those whom you have placed in her life, both past and present. Allow her to see the goodness she bears.” He glanced up and smiled at her. “And, God, since she’s a skeptic, give her a sign. Please. Amen.”

  She started to speak, but he held up a hand and resumed his reverent bowed-head position. “For your penance, you are to spend one hour alone here in the church. Search your heart and admit your true feelings for Patrick. Can you please say an Act of Contrition?”

  Jenny waited for him to look up at her and grin. He didn’t. He waited. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes, trying to recall the words to the traditional Catholic prayer of atonement. “Oh, my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you…” She stumbled over some of the words and Gavin helped her along.

  When she finished, Gavin reached for her hands, head still bowed and eyes closed. “Jenny, God forgives you, as do those who love you. Honor that forgiveness by accepting God’s love and the gift of those He has placed in your life.” He withdrew his right hand and made the sign of the cross in front of her. “You are absolved of your sins. Go in peace.”

  Silence hung between them until Jenny began to sob. Gavin leaned forward and gathered her in his arms. Rather than the hot tears of shame and fear she had cried in the past, these tears washed through her, bringing relief.

  When she caught her breath, she hiccupped. “This…isn’t…sad…crying. I feel… I don’t know what I feel.”

  “Released?” he asked.

  She dug into her pocket for a tissue. “Maybe.”

  “Again with the ‘maybe’?”

  She laughed through her tears. “How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t do anything. You did. You let go.”

  “Now what?” She blew her nose.

  “That’s up to you.” He patted her hand and stood. “I’ll leave you to your penance. Take as much time as you need.”

  She stood and embraced him. “Thank you…for being such a good friend. And a good priest.”

  He hugged back, but didn’t offer a wisecrack or comment. Then he kissed her forehead and exited through the back door.

  Listen to my heart. Okay. Jenny sat in the front pew in the stillness, distracted by the creaks of the old stone building with its high-beamed ceiling and dim lighting. She closed her eyes and remembered attending mass as a child with her grandmother. She had always been in awe of the silence the church afforded and the mystery of ancient rituals. Like so many teenagers, though, she stopped going to church once she had been confirmed into the church. The paradox of that struck her and she smiled.

  Did this mean she believed again? Well, she had always believed in God. She had just never believed in a beneficent, loving God. Her God gave then took away. He had allowed her mother to leave her, had taken her father, her grandparents, her husband, and even her child. She had to admit he had not taken away her future with Patrick. She had to own that one herself. She and Patrick both played a part in destroying that dream.

  She rose from her seat and walked to the alcove that housed a wrought iron stand bearing small red glass candleholders. Reaching into her purse, she extracted a five-dollar bill, shoving it onto the donation box and lit candles for each of the people she felt she had hurt, saying a prayer for each one. She finished and turned to leave, but stopped and lit one last candle for her mother. “I don’t understand why you left me, but I forgive you.”

  In the vestibule, Jenny stood in front of the statue of St. Anthony. At first, she considered that she had been lost and was now found. Then she revised her assessment: she had been reclaimed. But she hadn’t completed her penance just yet. She had been instructed to admit her true feelings for Patrick.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Come in.” Jenny opened the door and stepped back.

  “Thanks.” Patrick handed her the bottle of sparkling juice and a bottle of red wine. “These need to be chilled.”

  “I’ll put them in the fridge.”

  “And I have dinner in here,” he said, holding up the bag. “But I need a little time to prepare it.”

  “You’re cooking?”

  “I seem to remember a girl telling me once that she would one day marry a man who knew how to cook.”

  The air crackled between them with the word ‘marry’.

  “Anyway, I can’t take credit for the sauce, but it is homemade Italian. And Kari helped make the noodles. I guess I’m not the cook, just doing the construction.”

  “Come into the kitchen and tell me what you need.”

  “A big pot of water to start. While the pasta boils, I’ll make the salad.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “Put the garlic bread into the oven?”

  They moved around the kitchen and one another with precision. Jenny wondered if he was as nervous as she was about the evening.

  She lit the candles on the table while Patrick drained the water from the pasta. She set salads at each place and opened the oven to remove the garlic bread. “Ouch!” She drew the back of her hand to her mouth.

  “What happened? Let me see.” He took her hand and examined it. A thin red burn line appeared across her knuckles. He pressed his lips to the angry spot. “There. All better.”

  Warmth from his touch spread up her arm. His eyes were locked on hers. She wasn’t sure how to read his expression.

  Kissing the back of her hand once more, he released her and lifted the toasted bread onto the counter. “Be careful. It’s still hot.”

  Jenny sliced the bread and arranged it in a basket. “This smells delicious. Who made the sauce?”

  “Angie’s mother. Angie is Kari’s babysitter. She has a big Italian family in the North End and her mother, Bella, is a fantastic cook.”

  “You’ve been to their house, then?”

  “Angie takes Kari there sometimes. Kari loves it. She gets to cook, and she’s learning to speak Italian. She can even say her J now.”

  “I’d like to hear that. So, does Angie have a family?”

  He grinned across the table at Jenny. “She has two kids—teenagers.”

  Jenny nodded. “Well, it sounds like she’s very good with Kari.”

  “She is. She’s sitting with her this evening so I can be here.” He lifted her plate and filled it with pasta, topped with the rich, red sauce and three meatballs.”

  “Whoa. That’s a lot of food.”

  “Wait until you taste it.” He then filled his own plate. He lifted his glass and Jenny followed suit. “I want to propose a toast. I would toast us, but we haven’t discussed yet if there is—or can be—an ‘us’. Here’s to life, to the people who have loved us, the lessons we’ve learned through the mistakes we’ve made, and to a future of happiness for both of us—whether that means being together or apart. I will love you always, no matter what.”

  Jenny was doing fine until he added that last line of the toast. He was letting her go, free to decide what she wanted and if she wanted to be with him. “Patrick.” She stared down at the plate of food and tapped her glass to his. “Salute.” After taking a sip of her wine, she said, “We should eat before this gets cold.” She had a lot to say to him, and it would keep until after dinner.

  He studied her curiously, picking up his fork. While they ate, he asked, “So how are things going with the new job?”

  “Just fine. It was the right decision for me. I’m not an L.A. type of girl.” She was exhausted by the effort to keep things friendly and avoid the true intimacy they had already shared.

  “I know what you mean. I’m a little overwhelmed here in Boston. I miss Miley’s Cove. I miss walking down the street and knowing just about everyone I pass. No one even looks at you here. They’re all in such a big hurry. I wonder where they’re going all the time.”

  “Not ev
eryone’s like that in the city. But I get homesick for Maine, too. I was thinking of driving up next weekend for Thanksgiving.”

  “Really? Me, too.”

  She toyed with her wineglass. “We could, maybe, drive up there together. If you want.”

  He smiled. “I’d love it. Kari would, too. But…” He hesitated. “Jenny, we need to get some things settled before Kari sees you again.”

  “You’re right, we do.” She slid back from the table. “Why don’t we have coffee in the living room?”

  He cleared their plates from the table while she prepared the coffeemaker. When they had settled on the sofa, she stared at him. “I don’t know if I believe in fate. It seems too simple an explanation for why we keep ending up together or at least in the same places. I don’t know why things have never worked out between us. So I’m not sure we’re meant to be together.”

  “Jen—”

  “Let me finish. Those are things I’m not sure of, the things I doubt. Here’s what I do know: I know that you love me. I know I love you. I know I can’t change the past, and I don’t want to live in the past anymore.” She paused and wound her fingers with his. “I want to live in the future. With you and Kari.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You’re serious?”

  She nodded. “I’m tired of being sad over things I can’t change and afraid of losing what I don’t even have. Giving up my own happiness won’t bring my son back and it doesn’t really honor the joy he gave me in his short life.”

  “How did you get to this turn-around?”

  “I was encouraged to be honest with myself.”

  He smiled. “Do you remember our first night together in that cheesy motel?”

  She nodded.

  “Remember what I said to you then? I said, ‘We’re going to be so happy.’ I meant it then, and I mean it now.” He pulled her against him and kissed her firmly. His fingers traced over the scar on her neck.

  When the kiss ended, she snuggled into his arms.

  They sat together for hours, talking about the future until Patrick glanced at his watch. “It’s almost midnight. I have to get going.”

 

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