by Selena Kitt
“Hey.” Emily smiled back, tugging one of the boxes into the room. She was trying hard to forget what had happened in Father Mark’s office, and moving all her stuff into her new room seemed like a good distraction. “You ready for a new roomie?”
Alexis sniffed, grabbing the lip of another box and dragging it in. “Jenny is such a bitch.”
“Yeah, well, they deserve each other.” Emily eyed the stripped twin bed in the corner, butted up to an empty desk.
“I guess you’re right. But I think Eve was just influenced by Jenny’s evil. It’s like she’s crossed over to the dark side or something.” Alexis sat on her bed, watching as Emily started making her bed. “Do you like American Idol?”
“Is that on tonight?” Emily spread her rainbow crocheted blanket out over the sheets. “I usually go down to the common room to watch.”
“We don’t have to.” Alexis rolled over her bed with a grin and lifted a box off of something in the corner. “We’ve got our own TV.”
Emily blinked in amazement. “But… that’s against the rules.”
Alexis held her finger to her lips. “Shhhhh.”
“Won’t Eve tell on you?”
“She threatened to, if I didn’t agree to switch roommates.” Alexis snorted as she flipped channels. “But I told her I’d tell Father Mark about her vibrator collection.”
“Her…what?” Emily sank down onto her own bed, wide-eyed.
“Why do you think she and Jenny wanted a room together?”
Emily blinked at her new roommate. “What are you saying?”
“Don’t be naïve.” Alexis rolled her eyed. “They’re lesbians. They’re a ‘couple’ now.”
“They are?” Emily asked, although suddenly things made so much more sense. “Are you sure?”
“Trust me.” Alexis smirked. “It takes one to know one.”
“Oh.” Emily blinked at her roommate, surprised by this new information. “Wait… were you and Eve…?”
“For a while.” Alexis shrugged. “Then Jenny came along and got her to join the axis of evil.”
“Oh wow.” Emily was just now beginning to understand the scope of what had really happened in the roommate switch. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m over it.” Alexis settled on a re-run of TMZ, clearly not over it at all. “You really didn’t know Jenny was gay?”
“No.” Emily grabbed the edge of one of the boxes and pulled it nearer, starting to pile books onto her desk. “But she never talked to me much. She didn’t like me. I think she was the one pulling all those pranks.”
Alexis nodded knowingly. “Oh it was definitely Jenny and Eve.”
“How do you know?”
“Julia told me that Ellie told her that she overheard Eve and Jenny talking about it in Spanish class.”
“I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.” Emily sighed, lining her books up in the shelf built into the side of the desk. She found a pack of Twizzlers in the box and held them up, grinning. “Score! Want one?”
Alexis took the offered strand of licorice, chewing thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing. “We could plan a little revenge, you know. We still have the keys to your old room, and all Eve and Jenny’s stuff is in there.”
“Nah.” Emily shrugged. “The best revenge will be you and me being the best of friends, I think.”
Alexis smiled. “Want some help?”
Together they finished unpacking and then settled in on Alexis’s bed to watch American Idol, and when Jenny and Eve came to switch keys, they were surprised to find the two of them singing bad karaoke into a hairbrush and laughing hysterically.
* * * *
St. Mary Margaret’s went all out every year for the Halloween carnival, and this year was no exception. Emily had volunteered to work the face painting booth because she had a flair for it, and she preferred to do something where everyone walked away smiling, instead of watching kids toss a ping-pong ball at a goldfish bowl all day and rarely, if ever, win.
Unfortunately, she was right across from the kissing booth, where Jenny and Eve were flirting shamefully, teasing all the boys from St. Luke’s. The good news was that her new roommate had joined her at the last minute, so she didn’t have to deal with the long line of waiting kids all by herself. Although Alexis, she noticed, wasn’t as artistic as she was, but she could handle the easy things like hearts, balloons and pumpkins, and leave the dragons and birds and more difficult things to Emily.
“Look!” Alexis nudged her, taking a little boy’s ticket—each of them cost a dollar, and they could use them at any of the booths or on the ferris wheel or teacup ride or the blow-up house the church had rented. All the proceeds went to the children’s charity at St. Mary Margaret’s. “It’s Father Mark over by the kissing booth!”
Emily’s head came up sharply and she saw Jenny laughing and waggling her fingers, calling out, but at first she didn’t see him—then she realized why. He was wearing jeans and a soft blue, denim button-down shirt, so casual that Emily did a double-take to make sure it really was him—but yes, there were those green eyes, the long lashes, the dark hair. And that smile. That smile was definitely Father Mark’s.
“But it’s for charity!” Jenny squealed laughter at the way Father Mark’s cheeks reddened, even as he laughed along good naturedly. He said something to both Eve and Jenny and both girls looked at each other, a little shame-faced. Good for him, Emily thought, watching Alexis painting a crooked batman symbol on the little freckled boy’s face.
Emily couldn’t take her eyes off Father Mark, couldn’t forget the feeling of his mouth on hers just a few days before. She flushed as he turned toward their booth, lifting his hand in a wave. Sure he was just going to keep walking, Emily ducked her head, pretending to bend down to tie her shoe. She wanted to see him, desperately, wanted him to come over and talk to her, even if they never mentioned or acknowledged the kiss.
But that wasn’t quite true. She did want to talk about the kiss. She wanted to do more than talk about it. Her whole body buzzed with the knowledge of his presence and she willed herself not to look up, to let him pass without a word, let him go.
Let him go.
“Hey Emily.” His voice lifted her head and her heart.
“Hi.” She smiled up at him, standing there in his blue jeans. He was even wearing tennis shoes. Let him go? How could she let him go?
“Hey Father Mark.” Alexis waved her paint brush at him.
Father Mark smiled at them both. “How’s it going, girls? Enjoying the new roommate situation?”
“She’s my new best friend!” Alexis winked at him, glancing over at Eve and Jenny and sticking her tongue out in their direction.
“It’s like a whole new world,” Emily told him, trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest, standing so close to him.
“I’m glad.” His smile reached right down to her toes. She couldn’t help but remember how he’d kissed her, how he’d bridged the gap between them. Was he thinking about it too?
“Hi Father Mark.” A little voice interrupted and both of them startled. A little blonde girl, about the age of five, stood peeking out from behind him.
He glanced around, smiling down at her. “Hi there Samantha! Are you having fun?”
She nodded shyly, holding up a clear bag with a small wide-eyed goldfish swimming around in it. “My brother won this for me.”
“Awesome! And where’s he?” Father Mark asked, glancing around the crowd.
“Over there.” Samantha pointed to the booth next to Jenny and Eve’s, where kids were lined up to throw very dull darts at underinflated balloons. They both saw the teenager standing at the front of the line, his head shaved, a tattoo scrolling around his neck, who occasionally glanced back to make sure Sam was where he had sent her. “He’s going to win me that big stuffed moose! He told me to come get my face painted.”
“Well hop on up.” Emily patted the stool, reaching for her white board. She’d spent most of the night painting all the
possible designs for the kids to choose from. “Which do you want?”
Samantha hesitated, kicking her feet in the grass, not getting up on the stool.
“Can’t decide?” Father Mark prompted, smiling at Emily, the heat in his look warming her belly.
“I’m afraid,” Samantha admitted, tracing her little finger over each design. “Does it hurt? My sister got a tattoo on her ankle and she said it hurt like a bitch.”
Emily’s eyes widened and she covered her laugh with her hand. She saw Father Mark’s lips twitch at the little girl’s phrasing, but he didn’t miss a beat.
“It doesn’t hurt, Sam, I promise.” Father Mark patted the stool. “Emily will be very gentle.”
“Does it wash off?” The little girl’s eyes widened as she looked between the two of them. “My sister’s tattoo doesn’t wash off, even in the shower!”
Emily smiled. “It’s not permanent.”
“Not like a permanent marker? That doesn’t wash off very good. I colored with permanent marker on my sister’s iPhone and she was real mad at me.” Samantha cocked her head at them, clearly aware that they were both trying not to laugh out loud and seemed confused by their mirth. “Are you going to get one, Father Mark? Is that why you’re at the face painting booth?”
“Me?” Father Mark blinked, meeting Emily’s smiling eyes. What other possible explanation was there? “Ummm…”
Samantha slipped her little hand into his. “If you get one, I won’t be so scared to get one…”
He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but he clearly relented the moment his eyes met Samantha’s. “Sure I am. Which one are you getting, Sam?”
She turned back to the chart, contemplating. “The hearts.”
“I can do hearts!” Alexis called over as the little boy with the deformed Batman symbol on his cheek hopped off her stool. “Come on over, Samantha. I’ll do you and Emily can do Father Mark.”
Her phrasing made Emily blush and she glanced up at Father Mark to see his cheeks were red too, but Alexis didn’t notice. She was too busy washing her brush.
“So…” Emily picked up her own brush, watching him slide up onto her stool, making him almost too tall for her to comfortably reach his cheek. “Do you want hearts, Father Mark?”
“How about… the cross?” He cleared his throat, looking at her design board. “That seems more appropriate.”
“Sure you don’t want the Batman symbol?” She smirked, picking up her gold paint. Father Mark’s cheek was warm to the touch and tinged slightly pink as she began to slowly stroke her brush against it. She thought she felt him shiver when she leaned in, her mouth close to his ear, her voice low. “I think you may secretly be Batman.”
“I wish.” He laughed, soft and low, teasing her. “You could be Wonder Woman and we could fight crime together.”
“I’d like that.” Emily continued to paint his cheek, as slowly as she could, making it last. She loved being so close to him, feeling the press of his leg against her hip. The tip of her brush kept trembling, forcing her to go even more slowly.
“What would your superpower be?” he asked.
“I already have it.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows went up. “What?”
“Invisibility.”
“You’re not invisible, Emily.” He turned to face her, meeting her eyes. “I see you.”
“There. Done.” Emily tried to hide her blush as she lifted the hand mirror so he could see what she’d painted.
He smiled. “You’re quite artistic.”
“Thanks.”
“Father Mark! Look at my hearts!” Samantha jumped down from her stool, skipping over to them and turning her cheek proudly so he could see. She was still fisting the bag with her goldfish in it.
“Beautiful, Sam!” He smiled, turning his cheek too. “Do you like mine?”
“Well, I like it okay.” Samantha cocked her head, frowning. “But maybe next time you should get Batman.”
Emily met his eyes and they both broke out laughing.
“Brandon! You won!” Samantha exclaimed, her attention distracted by her tattooed brother carrying a huge stuffed moose in their direction. She ran at him, squealing, throwing herself into his arms and he caught her without missing a beat, swinging her up onto his hip, the goldfish in her hand sloshing in its bag.
“Look at you, wearing your heart right there on your cheek.” He kissed her other cheek and she giggled, putting her arms around his neck.
“Bye Sam!” Emily called and the little girl turned to look over her brother’s shoulder and wave as they made their way through the crowd. She looked over at Father Mark, smiling. “What a sweetie.”
“Her mother committed suicide two years ago.” Father Mark waved back at the little girl. “Her brother has custody. He works three jobs.”
Emily blinked at him. “How awful.”
“Priests and doctors.” He shrugged, putting his hands into his pockets, still looking after them. “I guess we kind of know everything about everyone in a little town like this.”
“Have you ever regretted becoming a priest?” She asked the question without thinking, and wished she could take it back almost immediately, but when she looked up and met his eyes, she saw something there that made her knees weak.
“Not until recently.” His voice trembled. Then he cleared his throat, looking over at Alexis, who was washing red paint out her brush, and said more loudly, “Hey, I want to show you something. Do you get a break?”
“Ummmm.” Emily looked over at her roommate.
“Go ahead!” Alexis called, waving them away with her pink-tipped brush. “It’s almost closing time anyway. I’m fine here by myself.”
Emily looked at her watch, seeing that Alexis was right. It was almost five. Their line had dwindled as most of the kids crowded the booths where they could take one last shot at winning something before they went home, dazed with sugar, to pass out for the night.
“Where are we going?” Emily asked as they began to walk down the cement path. There was a park right next to the school owned by the church—named, not very originally, St. Mary’s Park—where they held all their larger events. There was even a bandstand where Christian music groups played in the summer.
“Do you like surprises?” he asked as they turned the corner into a more wooded area of the park. The cement path faded off into more of a trail here, but someone had obviously cleared it and put down mulch. The leaves crunched under their feet, creating a multicolored carpet.
“Depends on the surprise I guess.” She followed him as he made a sharp left turn, off the beaten path now. The woods were deeper here, and while she could still hear the throng of people behind them somewhere, the sound was faded, muffled. Father Mark caught her hand as she stepped over a fallen log. There was a path here, too, of sorts, but it hadn’t been used regularly in a long time, she gathered.
“Watch your step.” He helped her over the log and they went on, Father Mark still holding her hand. He didn’t let go as they made their way through the underbrush and he gallantly held branches out of her way as they walked
“It’s so beautiful.” Emily felt him squeeze her hand, as if reminding her he hadn’t forgotten he was holding it.
“I love autumn.” He smiled back at her, still leading the way. “Did you know that the leaves of deciduous trees aren’t really green? That’s just the color of the chlorophyll. As the weather gets cooler, the green fades, and the true colors of the leaves come out.”
“I suppose everyone’s true colors reveal themselves eventually, huh?” Emily looked around in wonder as he stopped walking, the path opening into a sudden clearing. “Oh! Look!”
But of course he already knew. This is what he had brought her here to see. The old stone chapel stood in the center of the clearing, its multi-colored stones giving it a cobbled look. The roof was dark, the steeple too, rising upward and ending at an iron cross. The pathway to it was worn and the grass mowed. Clearly it was taken
care of. There were benches nearby, and in the distance, she could see the blue haze of Lake Michigan.
“It was built in 1866. They held church here on Sundays, and children attended school during the week.” Father Mark reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a very old looking key. “The church keeps it locked to keep out vandals.”
“I didn’t know this was back here.”
“Most people don’t.” He led her around to the side of the chapel. “It’s tradition that you should only enter a chapel from the side door.”
She followed him inside, expecting it to be musty and dank, but instead the mahogany pews gleamed and the stained glass windows near the ceiling reflected multi-colored patterns on the wood floor.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“My great-great-great grandfather held services in this church.” Father Mark pocketed the key, gently closing the door behind them. “When it was built, the whole community hauled field stones from their farms, and stone masons worked all summer to finish it.”
“Your great-great-great grandfather was a priest?”
“He was a preacher. And he wasn’t Catholic—he was Baptist.” He dipped his fingers in the holy water in the vestibule and made the sign of the cross.
Emily followed his example. “Baptist preachers can marry, can’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Why can’t Catholic priests?”
He hesitated as they entered the chapel, the stained glass windows throwing rainbows across his uplifted face and Emily thought she’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life.
“It’s Canon law,” he said finally. “Since the twelfth century, all priests have been celibate. Some say Pope Calixtus the second created the law because he was afraid of the heirs of priests looking to inherit church money or property.”
Emily snorted and rolled her eyes. “It’s always about the money.”
He quoted, “‘An unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord. But a married man is anxious about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and he is divided…’ That’s from Corinthians.”