Twisted Christmas

by Sara Cate

  So, no. There is nothing between us that threatens to be...inappropriate.

  And yet...I can’t help but notice the hard surface of his chest against my breasts. And the delicious scent of his cologne. And how our stomachs are basically touching, which means our...other parts are nearly touching, and that thought alone should disturb me—but it doesn’t.

  It excites me.

  There’s an uncomfortable mixture of shame and disgust brewing in my belly at the thought. It’s wrong of me to feel this way, and I know that. Wrong to even think about it, but my mind goes there anyway. The sin perseveres against my strong will, and it’s unfair.

  Should I tell him? I could confess, and I know he would give me the guidance I need. He always has. There wasn’t a problem I encountered since I met him that he hasn’t helped me through. But this...these feelings for him would be strange to confess.

  When we finally pull apart, I have to hide my face because I’m afraid he’ll see the remorse burning through the flush of my cheeks.

  He clears his throat, averting his eyes as he backs away. “Come on. We have a lot of work to do.”

  Chapter 2

  Father Roman

  * * *

  What is wrong with me? I held her in that hug for far too long. But I have to admit, it’s so nice having her back. It would have been strange if we hadn’t hugged. For five years, she visited me here almost daily, and then she was just gone for six months.

  Not even God could fault me for wanting to be near Cora.

  The sight of her in that habit is strange. She looks so different, but the look suits her. Like she was made for it, but a part of me dislikes it.

  For one, I can’t help but feel a little...guilty. I was the one who paved this path for her. She’s here, devoting her life and future to God because of me. I should take pride in that, and I don’t understand why I’m not.

  And two...her being in that habit means that she belongs to Him now. When for so long, it was like she was mine—

  What am I saying?

  I need to snap out of it.

  Cora and I make small talk as we prepare for the evening service. There are others working around the church, and being around others makes my thoughts feel even more sinful. I am supposed to be someone she can trust, not someone who hugs her too long and wants her to himself. It would be manipulative of me to use my position of power against her, but I’ve already requested her here, so aren’t I doing that already?

  We join a few others in the kitchen as they put together the care packages that will go with the hot meals for the homeless we will deliver tomorrow.

  “It’s good to see you again, Cora,” one of the women says.

  Cora answers with a smile and her eyes trained on me. “It’s good to be back.”

  I’ll bet you’re glad to be back with Father Roman again,” the woman adds.

  “I’m not with him,” Cora replies quickly and averts her eyes. “The convent sent me.” It’s a quick recovery, but I catch the way the woman looks regretful, biting her lip and turning away.

  When we’re alone, I watch Cora’s expression. “Is everything okay?”

  She takes a heavy breath, her shoulders falling as if they are full of lead. “Of course. Everything is great. I’m so glad to be back.”

  Her smile is forced and even as she tries to turn away from me, I catch her by the elbow.

  “Cora, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re being honest—and when you’re not.”

  When her eyes find mine, they are wide, gazing up at me through thick lashes. She looks as though she wants to say something, but the moment slips by wordlessly.

  “You know you can tell me anything. As your priest...and your friend.”

  Still those wide blue eyes stare up at me. “I don’t know if I can tell you this,” she whispers, and a chill runs up my spine.

  I assumed it was something to do with the way the nuns are treating her or maybe regret about joining the novitiate, but something in those words has me on alert. Cora has a secret—a secret she can’t tell me.

  We’ve never had secrets before.

  My fingers squeeze gently around her forearm. “Cora, you can tell me anything. You know that.”

  I can see her waging a war in her mind. With her lower lip between her teeth, it’s obvious she can’t decide if she should tell me.

  “It’s me,” I say, encouraging her to open up. If someone is hurting her again, I swear—

  “That’s the thing. It’s about you.”

  My brow furrows as the words slip past her lips. “About me?”

  Suddenly, a group of ladies barges into the storage room where Cora and I are talking and let out a huff of frustration. “Father Roman, we need to know where we are setting up the food for the event.”

  Tearing my eyes away from Cora, I nod to the women. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

  * * *

  Much of the day goes by without any opportunity to be alone with Cora again. The church is full of people, packing meals and preparing for the afternoon service. It’s not until the last fifteen minutes before Mass begins when she and I have a quiet moment in the chapel while I prepare my homily.

  She steps into the room, bringing me water as I sit at my desk.

  “Please tell me what’s on your mind.”

  I hate this feeling, that everything between us has changed. She’s taking on her duties to God and she’s no longer mine. This is my last attempt at understanding what’s bothering her, in hopes she will come back to me in some form.

  She freezes, her back to me. We wait in silence before she finally turns toward me.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” she asks quickly.

  “Of course.” Setting down my pen, I give her my full attention.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  I stare at her for a moment, feeling very thrown off by this question. Before I can answer, she goes on.

  “What I mean is… Don’t you ever wish you could… No, I don’t mean that. I mean—ugh, I shouldn’t have asked. This is inappropriate. I should go.”

  I’m out of my chair so fast, it clatters against the wall. Before she can disappear out of my sight, I snatch her by the arm and swing her back toward me. She flies into my body, so we are standing chest-to-chest again.

  “What on earth has you so worked up?” I ask.

  I’m feeling frantic. Does Cora have feelings for someone? Jealousy courses through my veins as I try to push away the thought.

  “I have a crush on you, okay? I always have.”

  The words fly out of her mouth so fast, she slaps her fingers over her lips then buries her face in her hands to avoid my gaze.

  Cora has a crush on me?

  I can hardly think straight. On me?

  “Cora, I don’t… I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

  “Because it’s inappropriate, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with these feelings now that I’m…” She gestures to her outfit. “And today was supposed to be such a good day, and now I’ve ruined it!”

  “You haven’t ruined anything,” I argue, but that's not exactly true. She may have ruined my sense of peace now that I know how she feels about me, but I’m burying those thoughts for the moment because my Cora is upset.

  Taking her wrists in my hands, I gently pull them away to reveal her face. She can hardly make eye contact with me, but I just want her to stop hiding. When her innocent blue eyes finally find their way to mine, she speaks.

  “There’s never been a problem in my life you haven’t helped me fix. So how do we fix this? What am I supposed to do now?”

  My mouth goes dry. How do we fix this? Because to be honest, it’s not something I really want to go away. How would a normal man solve this? He’d tell her he likes her too and then what? He’d kiss her? Take her on a date?

  No, that’s not what I’d really do. But I can’t think about what I’d really do because it’s somet
hing a little more along the lines of showing her just how much I want her and savoring every inch of her perfect little body with my mouth before I claimed her in a moment fueled by lust.

  Suddenly my mind goes deep into imagining a scenario of me plunging my hand down her panties and running my fingers through her wet lips, watching her face as I sink inside her, so tight it grips my finger—

  “Father Roman?”

  Her voice pulls me out of my daydream, and I freeze when I feel the sudden tension in my pants. Shame heats my cheeks as I realize I have a full erection.

  “Cora, sit down for a moment,” I say gesturing to the chair on the other side of my desk.

  She perches at the end of the seat, clasping her hands in her lap as I take the seat across from her. She’s worrying her bottom lip as she stares, not at my face, but at the Bible open on the desk.

  What am I supposed to say? I’ve never been so speechless.

  “It isn’t a sin to have feelings, Cora. Not really.”

  Her eyes lift to mine. “It’s not?”

  “No. You are free to love, even sworn to God Himself, but it’s important that we don’t…”

  I swallow the needles stuck in my throat. The words lose their way, even as they are leaving my mouth. I have to tell her that we cannot act on these feelings, and I know in my heart that is what’s right, but why is it so hard? Why can’t I just say that?

  “It’s a test of faith,” I say to her, but also to myself. “And we cannot...act on these feelings. If this is our test, then we must show God our strength in faith and devotion.”

  Her brow furrows as she stares at me. “We?”

  I freeze. Replaying everything I just said, I realize my mistake. Without even thinking, I just admitted my feelings to her. I only said it to console her, but I basically just said that I, too, have these feelings.

  The quiet air between us grows tense.

  “You said we,” she says carefully. “Do you feel this attraction too, Father?”

  “Of course, I understand the urges you might be experiencing. Like I said it’s a test of—”

  “Because if you feel what I’m feeling then I won’t feel so bad. Then it’s really not me, and I’m not so sinful after all.”

  The look on her face is so innocent, so pure and beautiful. This poor girl, abused and abandoned by her own parents, so desperate for love and belonging that she found her way to me where I offered her just that, is only looking for confirmation that she’s not alone.

  “I’m feeling what you are feeling, Cora,” I say. These words come out easily. They slip through my lips, cleansing the air of tension and making it suddenly easier to breathe.

  “Oh,” she whispers quietly, her mouth framed in a delicate o-shape.

  Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. We both flinch as our heads snap toward the doorway. One of the altar boys stands there nervously, staring at us.

  “Father Roman…” he stutters. “The congregation is waiting.”

  Fuck. I curse inwardly, standing up in a rush. Although the pressure in my pants has subsided, I’m torn between shame and disgust in myself and desire to stay with Cora when I really should be putting my congregation first.

  I really am a terrible priest.

  Chapter 3

  Father Roman

  * * *

  Three years ago

  * * *

  There’s a fresh bruise on her cheek today. Even as she entertains me with her story about the neighbor’s dog making his way into her living room where she fed it and kept it cuddled with her on the couch all night, I can’t seem to take my eyes off the blue patch of skin under her eye. I can’t stop thinking about how she got it. I imagine someone hitting her hard enough to turn her face that color and my fists clench around the Bible in my hands.

  I haven’t asked her about it yet because I don’t want to bring her down. I hate to see that smile of hers fade, because when she’s here, she does nothing but smile. Until now, there hasn’t been a mark on her since that first night she showed up here two years ago.

  We mostly hang out in the rec room where there is a TV she figured out how to hook her phone up to so we can stream Netflix. It’s past nine on a Tuesday, and her little visits after Mass have become an almost-nightly ritual. There’s a bowl of popcorn between us on the couch, and we have our feet kicked up on the coffee table.

  I’ve tried to get Cora to join the teen Bible study, and she came to one meeting, but I could tell she struggled to connect to the others. She comes to Mass, but she’s usually late, and she sneaks in the back, sitting quietly in the last pew. Without her parents’ consent, she can’t go through confirmation until she’s eighteen, so I tell myself this is the best I can get with Cora. I work in counseling and talk about God when I can, but mostly, I give her a safe place to stay and a friend to talk to.

  “How’s school?” I ask.

  “Good. I’m mostly done with everything, so it’s a piece of cake now. You’re coming to graduation, right?” She piles a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

  “Of course,” I reply casually. Then I add carefully, “Are your parents coming?”

  She tenses before grabbing a can of soda off the table. “I think my mom has to work. It’s not really my dad’s scene.”

  “Your high school graduation isn’t his scene?”

  She shrugs. “He hasn’t been working lately so he’s been in a bad mood.”

  “Is that why you have that?” I gesture to the purple patch of skin on her cheek. I’ve deliberated for the past two years if I should have called DPS for Cora’s own safety after that first night, and now I really regret not doing it when I should have.

  She stares silently at the television before she speaks. “He was picking on my mom, and I just got in the way. He was being an asshole.”

  “We have to call someone, Cora. He can’t do that to you.”

  She turns to me in horror. “No. They’ll take me away from my mom, and it would break her heart. I can’t. Please, Roman. Don’t.”

  Her pleading tears me in two. Very rarely does Cora ever call me by my first name alone, and when she does, I know it means that she’s addressing me as a friend and not a priest. I can’t hurt her. I just can’t.

  But I have to do something.

  “Okay, I won’t. But do me a favor and sleep here tonight. So I know you’re safe. I’ll make sure you get to school in the morning.”

  She nods with a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, deal.”

  * * *

  After bringing her a pillow and blanket, we open the couch to the pull-out and I wait up until I hear her breathing change to a sleeping cadence before I leave. Changing out of my uniform, I quietly slip out the back of the church and get in my car.

  I should feel bad for this, but I don’t. I’ll confess my sins tomorrow.

  The beauty of living in a small town is that I know Cora’s father by name, and I know he lost his job at the mechanic shop last spring because he was caught drinking on the job. I also know he can be found every night at the corner tavern on Mill Street.

  Parking my car in the back next to his motorcycle, I head into the seedy bar and immediately spot him in the corner. He looks drunk enough to fall off his barstool. Taking a spot across the bar where he can’t see me, I order a pint of beer and wait.

  I sip slowly, in case he plans on staying long, but it’s late as it is, so I’m only halfway through when he finally stumbles off his seat and moves toward the door. I drop a five on the bar for my drink and stay close behind him. Once we’re alone outside behind the bar, I make my move.

  “Hey,” I call out, and he spins lazily to glare at me with a furrowed brow.

  “What the fuck you want?”

  I don’t answer his question. Instead, I throw a hard right directly into his nose. He stumbles then falls to the ground like a heap of bricks, letting out a wild howl of pain as he does.

  “What—what the fuck? I don’t got no money, man!”

&nbs
p; While he’s down, I kick him hard in the ribs and grab him by the collar. The rage that courses through me is all-consuming. All I can think about are Cora’s bruises. The sad look on her face when she thinks about it. The pain and fear she must have felt, and I punch him again and again.

  “I don’t want your fucking money,” I snarl at him. He looks almost ready to pass out, so I hold back from hitting him again.

  He gurgles as he tries to speak, but he’s too disoriented.

  “Listen to me, you piece of shit. Listen!” I shake him again and he opens his eyes. Even if he could focus, I doubt he would recognize me. And I don’t care about that now. If he tries to tell anyone a priest beat his ass behind the bar, who would believe him?

  “If you touch Cora again, I’ll come back, and I won’t let you off so easy, understand?”

  “Cora?” he asks in a gasp.

  “You like to knock around little girls? You think I don’t see the bruises on her face?”

  “I— I...it was an accident!”

  My knuckles turn white as I clench his collar tighter. “Yeah? Well, so is this.”

  Dropping him again, I give him one more swift kick to the gut. He vomits almost immediately. As I stare down at him, I think about God and about my duty to his flock. This is not what a priest does. I serve all of God’s creation, and maybe I should have gone about this differently. I could have offered him rehabilitation. Called the authorities to handle it.

  But I’m not acting as a priest tonight.

  I’m acting on behalf of Cora, because she is mine.

  Chapter 4

  Cora