by Ava Lohan
I turned to the man. “You can come when we’re not praying and I’m not busy with the community. We can sit together in the garden or in the recreation room. I could—”
He was now standing right in front of me. I froze. I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips. He was too close. His cologne went to my head. I had never smelled anything so good, so sexy. Except for him. I could have licked his skin. He tilted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His hand was hot, like a fire about to burn me.
“Sister,” he murmured, before lowering his head, bringing his mouth toward my ear.
A wave of heat ignited my core and traveled to all my organs as his breath fanned my neck. I couldn’t breathe. Mother Superior was watching. I knew she was there, but I didn’t care. I closed my eyes and reached out to touch his shirt, to feel his body, but the tiny drop of clarity I had left stopped me. My hand dropped back to my side. Standing so close to him was inappropriate. It made me feel something I’d never felt before. I’d had some experience with men before locking myself away in the convent, but none of those boys’ kisses ever had this effect on me. With him... even standing close to him was enough to arouse me. And this wasn’t the first time. It was best I kept my distance from Kegan Anderson, in every way. I wasn’t sure if spending time with him was the best decision.
His lips brushed against my neck.
“I have no intention of coming here.” His gaze was fixed on me, bringing me back down to Earth. A smile crept across his lips, mere millimeters from mine. “I’m willing to keep my hands off the convent if you give yourself to me. Completely.”
His eyes examined every inch of my body, undressing me. I looked for help from Mother Superior, but she didn’t say a word. Nothing about our inappropriate contact. No comment on what he had just said. Give myself to him, completely. I had to be in some sort of trance or lost in a strange dream. But I couldn’t wake up. I was already awake. Give myself to Kegan. This was insane. I had to take my vows! How could I possibly do that after committing a sin like this? And how could I possibly confess any of it to our priest? He knew my face. He’d been hearing my confessions for two years. While I was lost in thought, Kegan moved, standing behind me, his hands on my hips, electrifying me. My heart was beating in my throat. My eyes, as wide as could be, begged Mother Superior, but she was no longer looking our way, concentrating instead on the rosary in her hands as she whispered inaudible prayers.
“If you accept, you will be mine. Physically mine, for two weeks. Then you’ll be free to take your vows.”
With these last words he tightened his grip on my hips, sending my mind racing. So he knew. He knew my days as a novice were coming to an end. In just seventeen days I would become a nun and devote myself fully to Christ.
Maybe he was looking for a pure girl, which I was not.
“I’m not a virgin.”
Mother Superior had known since the day I set foot in the convent, and now arrogant Kegan did too. Just saying it caused my face to burn red in shame, but I was willing to do anything to save myself from this perverse extortion.
Kegan laughed in my ear before biting my lobe. Chills raced down my spine.
“To me, you are.”
His response shocked me. What was that even supposed to mean? He stepped back, moving just enough to allow me to face him. “I’ll give you one day to think it over. But I think we both know you’ll say yes. I always get what I want, Sister.”
My face flared up again, this time in rage. What arrogance!
“I do not accept,” I hissed.
“Then I’ll start on my plans for the hotel tomorrow,” he answered, completely unfazed.
With a small wave toward Mother Superior that went unreturned, he headed for the door. The sunglasses that once hung from his shirt collar now concealed his eyes.
“See you tomorrow, Rose,” he said as he stepped into the hallway, disappearing.
“It’s just as he said,” Mother Superior said, breaking her silence. “Mr. Anderson came to our convent three days ago with Father Abel. I received him here in my office, and he informed me that his grandfather died two weeks ago. Kegan inherited everything.” She shook her head. “When he told me how much he wanted for the convent, I nearly fell off my chair. We’ll never find that kind of money by tomorrow.” She covered her face with her hands. “He has been unwilling to compromise: either we give him the money tomorrow, or you are his for two weeks.”
“I can’t give myself to him.” My voice cracked. “How could I ever take my vows after committing a sin like that? God wouldn’t approve.”
He wasn’t just talking about a night of sex. No. Kegan Anderson would never be satisfied with just one night. He wanted me for two weeks.
Mother Superior nodded. “God will punish him for this, my dear.”
Her conviction provided no consolation.
“The decision is yours alone. I’ll accept whatever you decide and take action. If you say no, I’ll inform our sisters tomorrow. Then they’ll have one week to prepare to go elsewhere. Father Abel is already working on it. He found us somewhere to go for the moment, then everyone will go their own way.”
Her words knocked me over, and I fell into the chair in front of her desk. What was I supposed to do? Spend two weeks with Kegan? Even the thought of it excited me. He was gorgeous. More attractive than any of the guys at my high school had been. But his arrogance, his conviction that I was under his power, made me see red. I felt like a headstrong child, determined not to let him win. To show him he couldn’t always have what he wanted, even if he was one of the most beautiful men on Earth. I was ready to give him a lesson that would knock him off that pedestal he stood on. Overbearing, rich, spoiled, used to getting everything he wanted in life. I pictured him leaving in that black car, so ostentatious it could only be his.
He was used to getting everything he wanted? Well, not this time. But what would happen then? The consequences of this small victory would be enormous, and not just for me, but for all my sisters. For Sister Ginger, whom I wouldn’t miss at all, and for Sara, who had become my best friend. She too had only seventeen days left. We had just been sitting on our beds talking about taking our vows together. It broke my heart to think that I might ruin it all. Not only would we not be taking our vows together, but we would be separated completely.
Give myself to this man. His naked body against mine. Would it really be such a huge sacrifice?
I tightened my lips. No, it wouldn’t be. At least not physically. But it would weigh on my conscience, and I’d never be able to take my vows. I would be thrown out of the convent, lost in the world again. I didn’t have money to go to college. I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have anyone who could help me. I’d have to live in a world so different from the one I had known for the past two years. What would I become? A beggar in the subway? A street artist? I shook my head. A prostitute, probably.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, unsure if Mother Superior was listening or not.
“I understand, my dear.” She sighed, breaking her silence. “I don’t mean to push you to accept, but I do want you to know that nothing would change for you, if you were to say yes. You would still take your vows in exactly seventeen days.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, perplexed.
“Father Abel is willing to absolve you of any sins without a detailed confession. He knows you would be doing it for all of us. We spent the whole day discussing it. God would understand and forgive you.”
She reached out over the table to hold my hands.
“When you first arrived, I could have never imagined you would make it this far. You were so beautiful, so striking and so distant from our faith that I can’t believe you have become the novice you are today.” She smiled as if she were proud of me. “Kegan Anderson is nothing like his grandfather. Dear John, aside from his business, was a generous man. He came to Mass every Sunday. He gave so much to our community, and he took such an interest in our work, funding us and
giving us used things to sell during our fundraisers for the orphanage.” Sniffling, she pushed a piece of paper across the desk. “You can sign here if you decide to accept.”
I had all night to choose, to decide what direction my life, and those of my sisters, would take.
“But his grandson… His grandson is the devil.”
I shivered. From the way she said it, I could tell she believed it was true.
Chapter Two
I didn’t eat a single thing that night. Nor did I sleep, instead allowing my mind to flood with memories. Burying my head under the pillow, I thought about the day Kegan and I first met.
I had gone to confession, like I did every other week as a novice.
I kneeled and waited for Father Abel’s greeting, but he said nothing. Minutes of silence passed, making me nervous. I decided to ease my tension by beginning my confession, convinced he was listening.
“Father, I am here to confess my sins from the last two weeks.”
My attempt was met with silence.
“Everything was fine until last Wednesday, when Sister Ruth made her steak and veggie pie. It was awful, but I lied to her and said it was good. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Then I hid my piece. I know the others did too. That night, Sara and I couldn’t sleep, and we started talking about Sister Ruth’s pie and about what a bad cook she is. I regret that.”
I tried to catch a glimpse of the priest’s hands through the grate, but I couldn’t see anything. It didn’t cross my mind for a second that he wasn’t there. In my six months at the convent, he had always been there.
“I feel guilty for laughing at her, but I still hope she doesn’t cook anymore. That’s a sin too, isn’t it, Father?”
I thought for sure he would respond, but I didn’t hear a thing. And yet, someone was there, in the confessional, sitting where Father Abel always sat. I heard something move, then a poorly stifled laugh. I was hurt, still certain the priest was there. After all, who else could it have been?
Maybe he was trying a new technique, letting me confess without interruption, without asking any questions. Maybe he was waiting until the end, to offer me solace, support, forgiveness.
So I continued. “Yesterday was our mail day. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m always sad on mail day and jealous of my sisters. I never get anything. I’ve been hoping for a letter from my best friend from high school. I don’t know if I should keep writing her. Looks like she has no intention of writing me back and saving our friendship.”
My bottom lip began to quiver, so I bit down to stop it and took a deep breath to get myself under control. I had no family. Not having a best friend anymore either was difficult. If I could’ve gone back, I would’ve made sure I had never lost anyone. I deserved it, though: not receiving any letters, not having anyone outside the walls of Saint Clare. Knowing I was alone in a world with billions of people was like a wound that kept gaping, that would never heal, bleeding until the end of my days. A painful gash reminding me day in and day out that I had nobody besides my sisters, that I had been a liar of a daughter. Irresponsible. A fake friend. But those six months in the convent had changed me, made me a better person. I was discovering sides of myself I had never known. The beauty in the little things.
Again, a sound came from the other side of the confessional. I wrinkled my brows.
“Father Abel? Is that you?” My voice was so faint I could hardly hear it.
“Do you really think that pie deserves a confession?” asked a voice, somewhere between skeptical and amused.
It certainly wasn’t Father Abel. The voice was young, attractive. My heartbeat slowed and a wave of panic washed over me. Who had I been confessing to?
“Who are you?” I stood up to get a better look.
“Father Jones,” replied the voice. “I am covering for your priest. He’s sick.”
The deep tone had a strange effect over me. I had goosebumps all over. I tried to imagine Father Jones’s face, how old he might be. Something told me he was young and very, very handsome. It must have been his voice.
I didn’t say a word. I looked down at my hands, fumbling around in my lap. Father Abel was a man like any other. I guess he could’ve gotten sick. If he was, it made sense that another priest would come to confession in his place. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable, but I couldn’t just run out in the middle of a confession.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, I think it does,” I responded.
I waited in vain for him to say something. I took it that Father Abel’s substitute was reflecting.
“How old are you?”
I peered through the grate, trying to make anything out from the other side. Fingers, fingertips running against the dark metal. “I’m almost nineteen.” I was nearly hypnotized by what I was seeing.
“And you’re a nun?”
“A novice, Father...” The fingers disappeared. I squinted my eyes to make out something more, but there was nothing there. “Jones,” I concluded.
“Do you have any other sins to confess, Sister?”
I thought for a minute. Was there anything else? Nope.
“Anything more serious and sinful? Anything related to... sex?”
I started. I couldn’t have heard that right. “I’m sorry?”
“Do you ever touch yourself, Sister? Do you ever long for a man’s touch? Do you even know what it feels like? What are you doing in a convent at your age?”
This was unacceptable. Asking me if I touched myself. If I wanted to be touched. In a church! Then it hit me: the man on the other side of the confessional was no priest. That voice did not belong to a man of God. I threw open the door and leaped out. There was not a soul in the chapel. The rows of dark, empty pews glimmered. Under the right light, you could even see the marks of all the hands that had rested on them over time. The stained-glass windows glistened, casting colorful shadows onto the white marble columns. The cold, humid air of this sacred place chilled my bones. The statues of saints seemed to be watching me. Rays of sunlight revealed pieces of dust floating around the room as I walked across the marble floor. When the other door to the confessional opened, I quickened my pace. The sound of my shoes and those following me pierced the silence.
“Wait!”
I didn’t. I didn’t want to see him. This stranger had made a joke out of me and my confession.
The man grabbed me by the arm, forcing me to turn on my heels. We were now standing face to face. My heart skipped a beat.
“Wait, just one minute.”
He had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. Green and vivid, framed by long, lush lashes. I was lost in an instant.
For a moment, the only sound I could hear was my own breath. He was studying me, his perfect face not betraying his thoughts on what he’d just heard.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he admitted apologetically. “I can hardly believe you’ve never committed any real sins,” he said, more to himself than to me.
He smiled, revealing white teeth. I felt like I was walking on hot coal.
“I bet you don’t reveal everything in your confessions. You’ve done worse.” His eyes traveled from my face to my white dress. “Why are you doing this? What a waste of a life.”
I knew what he was looking at. My appearance. Even though I no longer wore makeup, and I covered my hair with a veil, I was still a good-looking girl.
I shook him off and tried to make my way to the door, ignoring his comments. I could feel him behind me as I dipped my fingers into the holy water and made the sign of the cross. He didn’t perform the ritual as he followed me out the door.
“It’s none of your business. And stop following me.”
“Are you from Saint Clare?”
I snorted as I left the chapel behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him stop and give up.
I turned the corner and took in a deep breath, filling my lungs with air. The sky was getting dar
ker. The sun would soon set beyond the city. Nobody was on the streets, as if everyone had been abducted by aliens, leaving the neighborhood of Riverhead completely empty. Except for me and the boy now standing in my way, here to torment me again. I clenched my teeth, ready to brush past him once more, when he pushed me up against a wall, his hands next to my head, catching me off guard. His face was inches from mine, crowned by ash-blond hair.
I probably should have screamed. I should have yelled for help, should have tried to free myself, should have pushed him away and ran. But all I could do was stand there and lose myself in my senses, so heightened in his presence. My skin was going wild, as if every inch of my body was focused on where his hands touched mine. He smelled like smoke and cologne, a sensual blend meant to incite obscene acts. Like ripping off his clothes. All I could see was his damned and beautiful aura. This was certainly not the face of someone who went to church every Sunday and followed the way of the Lord. No, he was different. He was someone who broke all the rules and lived in pure excess.
“What were you doing in the confessional?” It took all my strength to spit those words out without stuttering in embarrassment. Was he there to confess too? I doubted it.
He let go of my left hand and stroked my cheek with his fingers. I shivered, but not because I was cold.
“The last time I came to this church was for my parents’ funeral.”
His tone betrayed no emotion. His words struck me: he’d lost his family just like I had.
“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like,” I told him. And it was true. Could it be that he was alone in the world, like me?
I looked at his clothes: an open leather jacket revealing a black V-neck sweater and light blue jeans—designer, just like the rest of the outfit. It looked pretty expensive, definitely more than what I could afford. He had the air of someone who took care of himself. If he had been left all alone in the world, it was with a lot of money.
He appeared unmoved. “Today, I wanted to come back. I wanted to confess,” he said as he lifted my veil slightly to reveal a lock of hair. “Not so much because I felt dirty or wanted to ease my conscience. I’m definitely not like my grandfather,” he said, twirling a piece of my hair around his index finger.