by Nancee Cain
I snort and shake my head. “With a name like Salvatore? Nope, I’m Roman Catholic through and through. I’d put my Italian Catholic mama against a Jewish mama any day. Nobody does guilt like Rosa Salvatore. I said you’re unethical. I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. No way I’m passing up this meal.” I shove a chip loaded with salsa into my mouth.
“Padre,” the waitress murmurs placing in front of him the biggest damn plate of sizzling fajitas I’ve ever seen.
“Y para su hermana.” She places my taco salad down and clasps her hands together, waiting for us to take a bite. I guess she wants our approval.
“Gracias, Maria. Mmmm, muy deliscioso.” He flashes the waitress his mega-watt smile. I look down at my plate so he won’t see the jealousy plastered across my face. I wish I could be the recipient of his smiles, instead of his frowns and concerned looks. A pretty blush suffuses her brown cheeks. The waitress bobs her head and gives him a small, shy grin in return before leaving.
“How many Hail Marys will you have to say for that lie?” I ask, digging in to the food with gusto.
“What lie?” He loads his tortilla with the sizzling hot steak and grilled onions.
“I’m now your sister?” I dump the rest of my salsa on the salad and peek at him from under my lashes. Why does his clerical collar only add to his attractiveness?
Remi puts the loaded tortilla down and places a hand over his heart, giving me a fake, pained expression. “That hurts, Evangeline. We are all brothers and sisters in Christ.” When I roll my eyes at his sanctimonious, craptacular answer, he gives me what my Daddy used to call a “shit-eating grin” and a wink.
“Are you fluent in Spanish?” I ask, trying to wheedle more information out of him, since he seems to know my entire pathetic life story, yet I still know very little about him.
“Sí.” His eyes crinkle and he grins widely.
I decide to test him. “Okay, say something that doesn’t involve a Taco Bell menu item.”
“Te adoro Chica Loca.”
I have to laugh. Only he would say he adores a Crazy Girl.
He takes a bite of his food and closes his eyes, savoring the taste. “Mmm. This is really good. I may have to ditch the whole blue jeans and T-shirt idea and go back to wearing the collar full time.”
I’m looking at that delectable mouth of his and thinking “mmm,” too. “Do you get a lot of meals comped?”
He shrugs and laughs. “It’s like being a cop or a marine. Women just can’t resist a guy in uniform.”
“Do many women make passes at you, Father?”
My abrupt question has him choking on his food. Maria hurries over and pounds him on the back, as the owner of the restaurant looks on, wringing his hands. The poor guy’s probably praying there isn’t a lawsuit in his future, or a black mark on his ticket to heaven.
Remi holds up his hand and manages to gasp, “I’m fine. I’m okay. Gracias.”
The interruption prevents him from answering the question. The owner’s family visits the table throughout our meal, discussing everything from football to the local bake sale at their church. We finish the meal and the tab is “on the house.” Remi thanks them profusely, blessing the owner, his family and his business. As we’re leaving, three of the children cling to him, calling him Padre in singsong fashion as he hugs each one. At the insistence of a petite little girl, he even offers a blessing over a stuffed bear. They adore him and he’s relaxed with the children, tousling their hair, and crouching on their level when he speaks to them.
Truthfully, when he isn’t in his clerics—and even sometimes when he is—he acts like a big kid. But he isn’t a kid. He’s a man. A kind, sexy, funny man that I wish was in any profession but his chosen one. Seeing the ease with which he handles the kids makes me a little sad, knowing he’d be a great father. I wonder if he regrets he’ll never have children. It will never happen for me. I rub my stomach where the scars remain. For the first time ever, I feel a momentary pang of what if, but quickly shove it aside. If there is a God, I’m sure it’s for the best. I still need to learn how to take care of myself.
It’s late and the sun has already set when we leave the restaurant and head back toward the motel. We pass one of those itinerant carnivals and Remi slams on the brakes. I’m thankful I have my seatbelt on, or I’d be kissing the windshield. His eyes light up like a five-year-old’s on Christmas morning as he stares in awe at the Ferris wheel in the distance.
“We have to go, Evie. We can check on Goner, I’ll throw on some jeans and we can come back to this.”
“But what about our money? You said we have to be careful.” I want to go, but I also don’t want to end up sleeping in the car, or going hungry. I like my creature comforts.
“We’ll just ride a few rides. Come on, you need to relax and grab life by the balls. It’s been a tough few days for both of us. Let’s just chill and enjoy being alive.”
The thought of grabbing his balls and being alone with him in the motel, doing things a girl shouldn’t think of doing with a priest, runs through my mind like a DVD on fast forward. Heat floods my cheeks. Maybe being out in a crowd instead of alone in a motel would be a good idea. “Okay.”
By the light on the dashboard, I see the excitement spread across his face and he cranks the music up loud. The wind from the open sunroof ruffles his highlighted brown hair, as The Ramones sing about evil thoughts and private hell. It might be my imagination, but the Virgin Mary looks a little wary, as the hula girl’s hips sway seductively.
Chapter Ten
“I’VE NEVER BEEN TO A CARNIVAL.” His wonderment is kind of cute as he turns around looking up at all the different colored lights of the artificial happiness. He grabs my hand, and I have to practically jog to keep up with his long stride toward the entrance. Seeing him wearing his jeans, boots, and a faded Jesus Christ Superstar T-shirt, more than one woman turns around to steal a second glance at the good-looking man beside me. A cigarette hangs from his lips and his eyes appear awestruck as his gaze darts back and forth between the rides, the vendors, and the interesting assortment of people illuminated by the colorful lights.
He points up at the Ferris wheel. “Isn’t that great? We have to ride it, if nothing else.” He’s so excited he doesn’t see my scowl. Just the thought of it makes my stomach fall to somewhere around my knees.
The smell of funnel cakes, cigarettes, and popcorn hangs thick in the air. Laughter and the excited squeals of happy children mingle with the calls of the barkers trying to dupe people in to playing their rigged games. He inhales deeply and pats his flat stomach. “I swear I’m full, but I could eat again. Sugar and fat combined, so good it’s gotta be a sin. Let’s sin a little.”
“You do realize the amount of grease in this food could clog a sink pipe don’t you?”
“Don’t be such a Debbie Downer. Come on. I want to ride a couple of the rides, and I’ll even win you a stuffed animal.”
“No you won’t, those games are rigged.”
“See? It’s providence, we were meant to be here.” He points at the Free Admission, tonight only sign.
Despite my protests, he buys a string of tickets for the rides. For this, he’d better be wearing his clerical collar for more free meals tomorrow. But one look at the excitement on his face makes my foul temper dissipate. His infectious enthusiasm reels me in and my own face almost hurts from grinning so much. I can’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed myself.
He pauses to watch some little kids playing in a pit of colored balls. “This is perfect.” He turns to the carnie covered with tats. “We want to go in there.”
The woman ignores him, thumbing through her cell phone.
He clears his throat.
With a heavy sigh, she stops staring at her phone, looks up and says, “No.”
“Why not?” he asks.
She cocks her head to the side, sizing him up. “It’s for little kids.”
My eyes widen when he starts arguing with her. I tug on h
is hand.
“Remi, stop. She said no. We’re too old.”
“It isn’t posted that there’s an age limit. Quit acting like you’re ninety and live a little, it’ll be fun.” He hands the tattooed woman a string of tickets and an extra five dollars.
Her attitude instantly changes. She pockets the fiver and nods for us to enter. Like a gentleman, he opens the netting and motions me to enter. Rolling my eyes, I pause at the entryway only to be unceremoniously pushed in. The kids start squealing with laughter, jumping up and down all around us.
He jumps in on top of me and starts tickling. I squeal and squirm, trying to get away, but he’s too heavy. The kids around us double over laughing.
“Say it,” he commands.
“Uncle!” I scream through my laugher. I lob balls at him but he only grins wider.
“That’s not it.”
“Rumpelstiltskin,” I gasp, squealing.
He stops tickling and grins down at me and whispers, “Did you say rumpled foreskin?”
“No.” I can’t stop giggling.
“Okay, well wrong again. Say, ‘Remi is the best thing to have ever happened to me.’”
“Have you lost your mind?”
He sits up and begins pelting me with the colored balls, making the three kids clap and laugh harder. I finally manage to wriggle my way out from underneath him. Grabbing a handful of balls, I lob them back, encouraging the two boys and little girl to join me.
Remi collapses in the balls, grinning. The kids and I scream and dance in triumph until his hand grabs my ankle and I fall on top of him with a loud oomph. He smiles up at me and brushes the hair out of my face. The rest of the world seems to fade away as I stare into his eyes. We’re breathing heavily but for a different reason now.
“See?”
“See what?” I croak. I see a beautiful man staring back at me. I see lips I want to kiss, smiling at me. I shift a bit and his pupils dilate, his nostrils flare and his erection hardens beneath me.
The kids start screaming, “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”
He gently, but firmly, rolls me over and stands, offering me a hand. I grab it and he leans close and whispers, “Taking life by the balls. It’s the only way to live.”
I can think of some other balls I want to grab, but this is definitely neither the time, nor the place. “Okay, okay. Lesson learned.” We leave the pit, waving to the kids as we go. The carnie shakes her head, but there’s now a smile on her face.
Pulling my hand, he hurries us toward the merry-go-round.
I raise one eyebrow. “Seriously? Isn’t this for toddlers? We’re not in kindergarten,” I complain.
“Come on, you know you want to. You want the horse with the pink roses.”
I freeze as a dull roar rises in my ears drowning out the happy chatter, squeals of excited kids and tinny carnival music around me. It’s like I’m in some sort of a carnival-from-hell-time-warp. I double over and place my head between my knees to keep from blacking out.
“That one, Daddy. She’s the prettiest.”
“But that horse doesn’t go up and down, Evie.”
“I don’t care; she has pink roses, like Mama’s. Pretty please, I want to ride that one, she’s my favorite…”
“Evie.” The male voice sounds alarmed, and I wonder if I’ve done something wrong. Two strong hands grip my shoulders. “Come back to me, Crazy Girl.”
He pulls me upright and snaps his fingers several times in front of my eyes. Slowly, I make my way through the thick mist of my past back to the present and stare at Remi’s concerned frown.
“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shake my head, shoving the memory away. Sweat trickles down my back, and as hard as I try to speak, no sound comes out of my parched throat. I blink and look around for my daddy.
“You don’t look well. You’re not going to puke again, are you? I hate puke.” Remi grimaces.
“N-No, I’m fine.” Am I fine? “I thought I saw my…” I close my eyes, pressing my fingertips into my eyelids. “I just got a little dizzy,” I reply, opening my eyes, scanning the crowd for Daddy. Of course, he isn’t here. I swallow my tears and force a smile for Remi.
“Good grief, you haven’t even gotten on the tilt-a-whirl, yet. Come on, I’ll stand next to you and make sure you don’t fall off the merry-go-round. Knowing you, you’ll pick the bucking bronco horse.” He nudges my shoulder, and some, but not all, of the tension eases from my body.
True to his word, he lifts me onto the horse with pink roses. When the ride starts, he frowns up at me. “Hey, this horse doesn’t move. What a rip-off. Do you want to move to another one?” He holds on to the pole, waiting for my answer. A little girl next to me squeals, kicking her feet with delight as she rides up and down, and Remi smiles at her.
“No, this one is perfect.” And it is. I close my eyes and it’s like being five-years-old again and Daddy’s laughter fills my ears, bringing a sense of serenity to my unease. When I open my eyes, I see my father standing on the outskirts. Grinning, he gives me a thumb up and disappears as the ride moves around. I search for him in the crowd as the merry-go-round slows, but I’ve lost him. Instead of feeling sad, I feel thankful and strangely tranquil. A warm hand rubs my back. I smile at Remi and brush a strand of hair off his forehead.
“Ready to try something a little more daring, Calamity Jane?”
I laugh. How can I not when staring into those beautiful eyes? “Sure, let’s grab life by the balls. You up for bumper cars?”
His eyebrows shoot up and he laughs long and hard as he helps me off the horse. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I’d be in for some whiplash; I’ve experienced your driving, after all.”
I smack him and laugh. “My driving? At least I use headlights.” He snickers and ruffles my hair.
We end up skipping the dodge cars, opting for cotton candy and a candied apple, much to my chagrin. There goes more of our money, but Remi insists we enjoy the full carnival experience, and that includes a little junk food.
“Want a bite?” I hold out my cotton candy and he pinches off a piece.
“It melts and is hardly worth the effort,” he grumbles. In return, he offers me a bite of his candied apple, taunting me with it several times before I manage to snag a bite. “Now this is something you can sink your teeth into.” A breeze blows over us and the air is heavy with the smell of popcorn, sweat, greasy food, and rain. Again, a tantalizing lock of hair falls rakishly on his brow, giving him a devil-may-care look.
The hard candy shell sticks to the roof of my mouth as I savor the sweetness mixed with the tart apple. “Candied apples are good, but not compared to cotton candy. When I was a little girl I believed the angels lived in clouds made of cotton candy.” I lick my finger and pause when I catch Remi staring at my mouth. A rumble of thunder, or maybe it was one of the rides, draws his attention upward.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re such a whimsical girl.”
“Well I know it isn’t theologically sound. I mean, cut me some slack, I was four or five. And angels probably don’t even exist. I’m not even sure God exists.”
“Trust me, they all exist.” He nods with authority, closing his eyes and smiling with enjoyment over his apple.
“Why should I trust you?”
He cracks one eye open and pinches my nose. “Ingrate.”
We both snicker and I bat his hand away when he steals another pinch of my spun confection. His lips are shiny and wet from his candy apple and the breeze continues to caress his hair into a delightful, tousled mess. His Adam’s apple bobbles as he returns my stare. It’s just a nanosecond, but I swear fire sears across the depths of his meadow-colored eyes. When I blink, it’s gone and the moment of acute awareness is over. We dump our trash in a garbage can and wander through the carnival, people-watching.
“Come on. I want to do two more things before we leave. Ride the Ferris wheel and win you a ridiculous, cheap stuffed animal.”
“But our money—”
Remi stops short and turns around. My body slams into his and of its own accord molds into it as if made to be there. He cups my face with his hands. “Just for tonight, let’s pretend I’m not a priest and you’re not crazy. We’re just two normal human beings having a good time. Just a man and a woman at a rip-off carnival, living in the moment.” Laced with forbidden promises, his voice seduces me. I grip his biceps so hard I’m sure I’ve left imprints of my nails.
“But—”
“Don’t over-think this, Evangeline. Carpe diem. It’s the only way to live. We’re all on a fast track to death, born to die, so to speak…” He taps my nose with his index finger and smiles. “Some faster than others. Don’t rush it, just breathe and enjoy each precious moment. The good and the bad.” He leans in and whispers, “And this is definitely the good.” His warm breath on my neck makes me shiver. I pull away staring at those lips I want to taste.
“Okay.” Was that my voice, oh so soft and breathy? My cheeks burn, yet goose bumps skitter across my skin.
His lips turn up into his blindingly beautiful smile. “Good, let’s go fly.”
The ride operator buckles us into our seat on the Ferris wheel, and the car sways back and forth. I grip the handrail and hold on tight despite my sweaty palms. Closing my eyes, I attempt to focus on my breathing, but the pounding in my chest escalates in direct correlation with our height. Remi lets out a rebel yell that’s loud enough to pierce an eardrum as we ascend higher and higher.
“What’s the matter?” he whispers in my ear. His breath tickles my neck.
“N-Nothing.” I swallow the bile of fear bubbling its way to my throat.
“Are you scared of heights?” The incredulousness in his voice would be funny if I wasn’t so damn scared.
I elbow him in the ribs and nod.
“Why didn’t you say so? You’re really scared of heights?”
Still not opening my eyes, knowing I’ll vomit if I do, I nod again.
“What the hell? When I met you, you were standing on a bridge getting ready to jump.”