Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved

by Laveen, Tiana

  “A little bit of lemon juice, just a drizzle of evoo....dash of salt and pepper...steak done in ten minutes!” She smiled as she peeked in the oven at the potatoes covered in garlic, chives and sage. A few moments later, the doorbell rang. She froze. With a nervous laugh, she walked to the door, then hesitated, noticing that the red apron printed with, ‘Kiss the Chef’ was still wrapped around her and to make matters worse, she’d stained her chic, form-fitting black shirt and denim leggings. Sighing, she slowly opened the door to find Dane.

  There Dane stood, holding a bottle wrapped beautifully, with a silver bow on top. A giggle escaped her when he stared at her a little self-consciously, as though they were young and green high school students all over again.

  “This is a nice street...beautiful trees.” he sighed and grinned wider. “I like it, you know? But...I was hoping, at one point in time, you’d invite me inside.”

  “Oh!” She laughed, and opened the door wider. “I’m so sorry, Dane. Please come in.” She stood out of the way as he leisurely entered and scanned the living room. “Uh, excuse my appearance. I looked much better an hour ago. I think I’m a good cook, but I’m also messy.” She locked the door and fretfully ran her hands together.

  Turning back to her, he handed her the bag with the pretty bow. “It’s white grape juice...”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. You should’ve gotten red grape juice, though.”

  “Why? We’re having beef?”

  “Yes!”

  They both burst out laughing again, then she moved toward the kitchen. Without invitation, he trailed behind her.

  “This is a nice house, Rhapsody,” he said sincerely as he leaned up against the counter, crossing his ankles, while she slowly opened the oven door to peer inside.

  “Thank you. I’ve been here for about four years, my first major purchase. I couldn’t miss out on it. The real estate market had plummeted and it was an opportunity for me to be a home owner. The mortgage was cheaper than my rent; it was a no-brainer.”

  He nodded in understanding and casually crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I even mow my own lawn.” When she closed the oven door, the mouthwatering smell of steak lingered in the air.

  Dane nodded and smiled, remaining strangely quiet. A few moments passed when she continued to check on the food. Her back toward him, she had a strange sensation. She looked behind her shoulder and realized he was staring at her. His light eyes sparkled under the small but modern kitchen’s recessed lighting. And he looked good, damn good. Dressed in a dark gray, long sleeve shirt that slightly clung to his muscular arms and wearing casual, dark, slightly faded jeans, she enjoyed taking in his image. His hair was less perfect, a bit messy as if a dollop of gel had been applied, or perhaps he’d run his fingers through it. She loved it and briefly imagined her fingertips moving through the shades of amber, warm brown, and sparse blond and black tresses. She kept looking at it—just as mesmerized as she’d been the first day she saw him at the park. It was truly one of his best physical features but those eyes...well, they won first dibs.

  She swallowed and tried to concentrate on the tasks at hand. At the park, they would be among nature and the many passersby. But here, in her home, they were all alone. In that moment, she began to feel the gravity of the situation. He remained calm, as if they met here, like this, all the time. How surprising! Typically, she was the one running head first into unchartered territory. Hell, this had even been her idea, but now, here he was, and she was the one sweating bullets.

  She’d asked him to dinner innocently enough, but now, she even questioned her motives. He held the handle to sanity, while she slipped down the slope of surrealism. For a brief moment, she thought she may be imagining the entire scenario, as if, for instance, he was never at the club, listening to her sing a song about his fractured heart. The whole thing felt dreamlike, and then, reality snatched her back into the present as she felt his lips run along her cheek...

  Oh God...

  He stepped back again. She hadn’t even seen him approach.

  “Uh, let me get these steaks out. Please,” she pointed out into the living room, “have a seat out there, relax, make yourself at home. I will get dinner on the table.”

  “I would prefer to help you,” he offered as he removed two fluted glasses from an open cabinet and held one in each hand, his blue eyes hooded and lips curved in a smile. Such a seductive smile, too!

  “I’m sure you would, but you are the guest, so mosey on along.” She playfully turned him around as if they were about to play a game of ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’, and gave a gentle push forward, ushering him away. He obliged, not looking back. After setting the glasses on the table, he sat down on her over-stuffed tan couch and studied her small, antique piano, the pitiful thing, and then looked around the arched room at her art, mostly consisting of West and East African paintings and masks.

  She continued to toil in the kitchen, flitting about here and there, but not nearly as much as her nerves, which were rattled like a salt shaker and worn down to a bare nub.

  “Have you ever been?” he suddenly called out.

  She paused, setting the old green and white checkered oven mitt on the counter.

  “Ever been where?”

  “To Guinea? That is where that mask is from.” He pointed across the room toward one of her prized possessions—a long, wooden hand-carved mask with a slightly sinister face and beautiful red and white paint around the hollowed eyes.

  How’d he know that?

  “No, I haven’t. I purchased that at an art show. It just drew me in, you know. Have you been there?” she asked as she opened the refrigerator door, removed a large glass bowl full of freshly tossed salad and placed it on the counter.

  “Yes, I recognize the symbols on it, the painting.”

  “Really?” she asked, impressed that he’d said ‘Yes’.

  “Mmmm hmmm, I’ve been to many countries, and several in Africa. Guinea’s continued fighting with Liberia—well, it appears Liberia keeps in one way or another bringing their problems there—caused some tension while we were visiting. The political climate felt a bit unstable. Their economy is weak; that is why we were there actually, to lend a hand. They have so many refugees from other neighboring areas, the country is overwhelmed, not nearly enough resources. Regardless, I completely enjoyed my conversations with many of the school teachers and officials there.”

  “You weren’t there to try and convert, were you? Like a missionary?” Rhapsody half-heartedly teased as she gave the salad another toss with two long, white spoons.

  He shook his head. “We always talk about God, and we hold public prayer. We offered advice based on our own beliefs, but we were there to serve, first and foremost.”

  Rhapsody nodded as she made her way into the dining room, setting the salad bowl down.

  “I’m going to grab the bread, and then we can get started.” She grinned at him, perhaps a little too over-the-top, and before she could turn to the kitchen, their eyes locked. They simply stared at one another, neither willing to turn away. Time stopped. Forcing herself to move, she returned to the kitchen and opened the hot stove, causing the delicious scents to billow out and kiss her cheeks with heated culinary love... love?

  From behind her, she felt his glare on her, and she toyed with the notion of swaying her hips a bit, to entice, then decided against it. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to ask. She’d been anticipating this evening, wanting to crack him open like a piñata and dive deep inside of him...not only emotionally, but also physically. To touch him, feel him—it would be heaven. Shoving those thoughts to the side, she took a deep breath and walked back out of the aromatic kitchen with a hot pan of buttery rolls.

  She looked across at him, and he kept his focus on her décor, his eyes bouncing from object to object. The blended living and dining area allowed her to double-task, keep her keen ey
e on the mysterious, handsome fellow with a golden crucifix handing from around his neck, as well as finish setting the table. She smiled and turned away, placing silverware and saucers at each setting. Before it was all complete, her hard work displayed in artistic fashion, she smelled woodsy cologne and the all too familiar incense from St. Michael’s Rectory.

  He is behind me...

  She briefly closed her eyes and swallowed, then looked down at the perfect place setting and took in the sight of his large hand next to the saucer she’d just set down. His warm breath caressed her ear as his hand slowly slid over hers, his wedding band glowing bright, as if it were on fire.

  It’s going to be a long ass night...

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dane had spent the evening and morning praying... and praying...and praying a wee bit more. He prayed as he drove to Rhapsody’s house and he struggled with the fact that not a bone in him screamed warning, cautionary alerts or swayed red flags while some invisible ghost boo’ed and hissed. Nor did any alarm sound, ‘Mayday!’

  His sixth sense had never failed him, and yet here he was, willingly driving to a woman’s home—the very same that Fr. Kirkpatrick had warned him about. A woman that had caused him to have two wet dreams, much to his dismay and a woman who he’d pictured in ways that he knew for a fact were inappropriate. Fr. Kirkpatrick had urged him to keep his distance from the temptress and, though he’d denied she was anything like that—indeed she was. No need to mince words. A temptress is someone who tempts you to do something out of the ordinary, someone who entices you. Whether they mean to or not is irrelevant. Nevertheless, it wasn’t her fault. She was cursed with good looks, a beautiful face and body, and natural bohemian charm. She spoke the truth when it was needed most. She was his muse, and he chased her, even in his dreams.

  Temptation resistance is the truest test of character, they say. I don’t know about that.

  He craved the scent of her silky, smooth skin and wanted to hear her laugh, speak...that voice. She entertained him by her mere presence, helped him see the world in an entirely different way. At this point, he simply asked for understanding—asked the Lord to help reveal to him each step he should take.

  He stood behind her, fighting the urge to kiss the back of her exposed neck. Her tightly coiled hair was partially braided in a beautiful updo, and it smelled of honey, cinnamon and vanilla.

  What type of shampoo does she use?

  “Dane?” she called out, seeming to struggle to turn around as his arm blocked her pass. He looked down at his hand over hers, and dug his nose deeper into her tresses until she called his name again. Falling out of his own thoughts as if he were cast from the sky, hurled back down toward Earth, he blinked and looked around, for a brief moment, forgetting where he was. Her shoulder blade pushed into the pit of his arm as she continued to strain against him, to turn in the circle of his physical blockade. Her lips parted, glistening with what appeared to be freshly applied russet lipstick. When she smiled, they framed her teeth, making the already white beam appear even brighter. He could smell her sweet breath as she repeated his name…

  Fresh mint and celery...

  “Dane...” she repeated, for now the third time.

  “Hmmm?”

  “You are in another world,” she said, shaking her head. “You have me so boxed in here, I can’t...” her voice trailed at the end.

  “Oh,” he immediately took a step back, “my apologies. I was just coming over to help.” The pitter patter of rain started against the windows. The drops tap danced along the sides of the house, creating an orchestra concert just for the two of them.

  He exhaled and watched as she squirmed away, down to the other end of the table, removing her apron and placing it on a nearby chair.

  “Everything looks beautiful.” He rubbed his hands together anxiously.

  “Thank you, have a seat,” she offered without looking his way.

  He stood there, a bit longer and took notice of the long, wall length chocolate curtains on the emporium windows. The modest, delightful house had trey ceilings. Well built, with no detail left unnoticed in the great craftsmanship, as well as her eclectic, avant-garde tastes. Each item told him a bit more about her. One wall was a bluish gray, while the others, much more vibrant. A deep, muted orange, the walls complimented the beige area rug with pale tangerine swirls. In the center of the dining table was a simple yet elegant plant in a sterling silver bowl. His eyes roamed back to her. He walked to her and their bodies brushed against one another. Her hand teetered and shook as she poured a glass of iced water.

  “Ahhh,” she gasped, her voice deep and throaty as a playful smile took over her beautiful face once more. “What are you doing?”

  “Pulling out your chair.” He gripped the back of the chair beside her with both hands and quickly scooted it back, waiting for her to take her seat.

  “Thank you.” She sat down slowly, but not before he noticed her dark shirt with a floury handprint over her left breast. He smirked and made his way back to the opposite side of the room, taking a seat.

  “Well, you look really nice,” she offered as she took a sip of her water.

  “Thank you, so do you.” He gripped his glass, raised it in a toast, then took a sip and placed it back down.

  “Did you have any problems finding me?”

  Yes, but not in the way you mean... now that I’ve rediscovered you, everything is fine.

  “No, it was a piece of cake. Thanks...” He bent his head down and clasped his hands to say a prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this dinner that you’ve given me and my...friend, Rhapsody. Thank you for using her hands and culinary skills to make such a wonderful feast for the sustenance of our bodies and minds. May we enjoy this fellowship. Amen.”

  Without a glance in her direction, he picked up his fork and pierced the crisp lettuce that she’d placed in a small, wooden salad bowl before him.

  “Amen,” she said softly, drawing his focus to her. He zoomed in on her lips, then her eyes. Oh how they sparkled and gleamed, even in the dimly lit room. The place was romantic, all on it’s on. Food aromas floated about, mixed in with a natural earthy scent and a certain sweetness, reminiscent of nutmeg.

  Oh yes, that reminds me...

  “Rhapsody, I have a really silly question to ask you.”

  “The perfect kind!” She laughed as she stabbed her salad with her fork, looking up at him every so often between tight chews.

  “What type of shampoo do you use? When I’m close to you, I can smell it, it’s really nice.”

  “Why? You wanna use it?” She smirked.

  “Maybe.”

  I’d like to wash your hair for you, Rhapsody...run my fingers through it...

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “I use raw honey with a dash of cinnamon and a drop of vanilla extract.”

  He took a big bite of his salad, rolled around a cherry tomato and nodded with a sly grin.

  “That’s amazing, well, your hair looks beautiful and smells delicious...I could almost eat it up.”

  She laughed and moved her fork faster through the roughage, as if trying to find her own tomato buried beneath the arugula leaves. He wasn’t positive, but if he were a betting man, he’d put money down on this little observation: the woman appeared to be blushing.

  The meal continued with small talk about the day’s events, even a bit of pop culture to soften edges of uncertainty. All the while—exchanging glances, peeks, and many unsaid words until finally, they spoke at the exact same time, their words tumbling over one another’s, which caused them both to erupt in laughter.

  “Okay, you go first,” Dane offered as he began to slice into his tender steak, exposing a perfectly cooked medium well sliver.

  “No, you go.”

  She took a small bite from her dinner roll. He watched her work the soft bread in her mouth, fascinated.

  “Okay. I just want to tell you that I�
��m not going to play games with you. I meant what I said the night I came to hear you play.”

  “Yes.” She lifted her glass of water to her lips. “We hadn’t discussed that night in depth since it happened. But, the way you left it,” she cocked her head to the side, smiled and placed the glass back down before folding her hands together, “I figured you were the wrong person to second guess.”

  They shared a brief silence. He mulled over his words briefly before he continued.

  “I want…” He paused, looked at her seriously and placed his fork quietly down next to his plate. “I want to know everything about you. I want to know the things, I should’ve known had I not been such a bonehead in high school...and...”

  He watched her eyes widen as she sank back into her chair. He had trouble gauging her reaction, yet, his best grasp on the situation was that she was surprised at his revelation.

  “I should have said something to you back then. That way, I wouldn’t be playing catch up now,” he further explained. “Anyway,” he wiped the side of his mouth with his ivory napkin and drummed his fingers on the table, “the food is delicious. Thank you.” He looked at her, and she still wore that strange expression. “You are looking at me like...”

  “Well, I’m just surprised to hear that is all.”

  “Hear what?”

  He knew what; he just wanted to hear her say it...

  She shrugged, looked down at her dinner and moved the food around on her plate as if she were trying to corral it into one lump sum. “Hear you admitting you wanted to talk to me in high school.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? We were kids then, I’m a man now. I can own up to it.”