by Honey
“My father did, of course. He challenged me once when I was in middle school, and I shocked him with my skills. You should’ve seen the expression on his face.”
“Well, you did a fine job with my tie too, baby. Thank you.” He walked to the closet, removed his navy suit coat from a hanger, and put it on. “You’ve never seen me in a regular suit before. I’m usually dressed in clergy attire.”
“Or nothing at all,” Royce teased him and grinned.
“Be serious, woman. How do I look?” Father Gregory struck a simple pose with his hands in his pants pockets.
“You look so handsome that I’m almost tempted to hold you hostage in this room. Every single woman at the wedding will have her eyes on you. Please don’t run off and leave me for some trollop.”
“Girl, you’re stuck with me. There ain’t a woman in all of creation who could take your place.” He took Royce in his arms and looked directly into her eyes. “Remember the plan. I’ll meet you at Les Nomades at eight o’clock. Enjoy a glass or two of some fine French wine until I arrive.”
“All right. I’ll be the sexy chick in red.”
“I don’t want you to look too sexy. Some man may come along and sweep you off your feet before I get there.”
“That’ll never happen, sweetheart.”
* * *
Father Gregory gave Rhonda a forehead kiss and held her in his arms a few seconds after the song ended. The small crowd of family and friends clapped and cheered.
“I love you, Nick,” she whispered. “I want you to be happy for Walter and me. You’re not losing your baby sister. You’re gaining the brother you’ve always wanted.”
“I know, but you need to explain that concept to our father before you guys leave for Hawaii in the morning. Tell him he’s gaining a son and you’ll always be his baby girl.”
Father Gregory released Rhonda and watched her float like an angel walking on clouds over to her new husband. The moment was bittersweet. He had always been the man she depended on besides Max since she was a baby. From this day forward, it would be Sergeant Walter B. McKissick, the man who had given her his hand in marriage. As her only brother, Father Gregory was very happy that Rhonda had found true love with a good man, but he would miss her calls asking for money and advice. He was no longer needed.
Father Gregory checked his watch and panicked on sight. He had only twenty minutes to say his goodbyes and make it from Joliet, Illinois back to Chicago to meet Royce at the restaurant by eight. He was doubtful that he would make it in time. It was unfortunate because he’d been mindful of the time throughout the reception. But some unexpected things had popped up, prolonging the short program. Max’s toast to the bride and groom had transformed into a lengthy emotional tribute to Rhonda. It was evident from his slurred speech and frequent outburst of tears that he had paid the bartender a visit before taking the microphone. Most wedding guests had found Max’s words touching, but Father Gregory’s patience had begun to wear thin midway through the toast. By some miracle, his stepfather had run short on stories about Rhonda’s eventful childhood around the time the catering staff started serving mango parfait, the bride’s favorite dessert.
The bouquet and garter tosses soon followed. Rhonda and Walter then sliced their wedding cake and fed each other small pieces to boisterous cheers and applause. Moments later, the wedding guests were entertained by the traditional father-and-daughter dance. After some time, Father Gregory had boldly tapped Max on the shoulder, signaling that it was his turn to take Rhonda for a twirl on the dance floor. Now, it was time for him to leave his family and join the woman he loved for their final romantic evening in the city. Father Gregory wanted to make it a magical night that Royce would cherish forever.
* * *
“Would you like to order an appetizer now, ma’am?”
Royce shook her head and drained her wineglass. She placed it on the table with a slight thud after the server walked away. It was nine thirty, and Father Gregory had yet to arrive. Royce refused to call his cell phone again. He hadn’t answered the first ten times she’d tried to reach him, and she was livid.
“Why is a gorgeous woman like you sitting here all alone?”
Royce looked up and got lost in the piercing eyes of a very tall and handsome man. “I was waiting for someone, but apparently I’ve been stood up.”
“May I?” the towering, good-looking stranger asked, gesturing toward the empty chair across from Royce.
“No. I’m about to leave. I wouldn’t be very good company for you anyway. Enjoy your evening.” Royce removed a few bills from her clutch bag to cover the two glasses of Bordeaux she’d drunk. She tossed the money on the table carelessly and stood.
“Please allow me.” The gentleman picked up the bills and pressed them tenderly into Royce’s palm. Then he placed a single bill on the table. “He’s a damn fool for standing you up. Maybe he doesn’t appreciate you or realize how lucky he is. If you were mine, I would never disappoint you.” He kissed the back of Royce’s hand, which was still holding the money, and walked away.
* * *
Father Gregory slipped inside the dark room as quietly as he could and closed the door softly behind him. He tiptoed over to the bed and stood. The silhouette of Royce’s hourglass figure was clearly visible underneath the covers. Her body was flawless, and he’d had every intention of feasting upon it on their last night in Chicago. But the ever-unpredictable Windy City traffic had thrown a monkey wrench in his plans. It had taken him more than two hours to drive from the Pristine Chapel in Joliet to Les Nomades on East Ontario Street. The slow-moving traffic into the city and the downtown area had almost driven him to curse and spit. And he’d had no way of calling Royce to tell her what was going on because his phone’s battery had died at some point during the festivities.
Father Gregory undressed quickly and eased under the covers next to Royce, thinking of ways he could make up for missing their dinner date. He had tried his best to get to the restaurant before she left. God knew he had. But Max’s long speech and his mother’s insistence that he bid each of his aunts and uncles a personal farewell had used up a lot of his travel time. And then there was the traffic jam, which had only made matters worse. Surely, Royce would understand that he’d had no control over any of that. He would explain everything first thing in the morning.
* * *
“Royce, please talk to me, honey. You pouted around the hotel room all morning long as if you didn’t understand why I was late last night. You barely said two words to me on the drive to the airport, and you totally ignored me on the flight home. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the restaurant on time last night. The traffic was at a standstill for more than an hour. And I couldn’t disrespect Rhonda, my parents, or the rest of the family by leaving the reception early. I got to the restaurant as fast as I could, but it was too late. You had left. Baby, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Royce pulled away from Father Gregory, struggling with her bulky carry-on bag as they rushed to catch the train to the baggage claim area at Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. She needed his help, but she didn’t want it. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted him anymore. The love she had in her heart for Father Gregory was still very much alive, but reality had slapped her in the face hard. Love simply wasn’t enough. Royce wanted it all. She always did. But because she loved him more than life, she had somehow convinced herself that she could live without the total man. If Father Gregory couldn’t give himself completely to Royce, she didn’t think they could go on.
On the short train ride to the baggage claim area, Royce sat quietly next to the man she loved with a battered spirit. She willed her tears not to fall when she imagined her life without him. Once they reached the carousel and retrieved their bags, she turned to Father Gregory.
“I need some time, Nicholas. I’m not sure if I can do this anymore.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know if I can continue this she
ll of a relationship. It’s too painful and confusing. I will never have all of you. I thought I could handle you loving me behind closed doors while treating me like an ordinary person in public. I have tried, Nicholas, but now . . .” Royce sniffed and succumbed to the warm tears stinging her eyes.
“But now what? You’ve changed your mind? Royce, I love you more than I thought was humanly possible. I can’t live without you. We can work this out. Let’s talk about it.”
She shook her head. “I need some time to sort things out. I’ll call you.”
“Royce, please don’t do this,” he begged, tugging at her arm gently. “I need you. We can fix this. Just talk to me, baby.”
“I can’t think right now. My mind is all over the place. I need some time and space away from you.”
“Royce!” he called out when she walked away, pulling her rolling suitcase behind her. “Royce, come back here! Royce!”
Chapter Thirty-six
“Come in!”
“Good morning, Father. How was your trip?” Sister Ellen Marie had entered the office and allowed the door to close slowly on its own behind her. She walked farther into the room.
“My sister’s wedding was lovely. She was the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen. I enjoyed spending time with my family. I hadn’t seen some of my relatives in years.”
“Well, you were certainly missed around here.”
“I assume Father Schmidt and Father Rivera kept everything afloat in my absence.”
“They did. Father Schmidt’s noonday homily was quite inspiring.”
“Great. Is there anything we need to discuss, Sister?”
“Yes, sir, there is. Don’t forget about the luncheon this coming Wednesday.”
“Luncheon? What luncheon?” Father Gregory honestly had no idea what the nun was talking about.
“The group of aspiring priests from the Boston College School of Theology will be stopping by the church Wednesday morning for a tour and fellowship. It was your idea for them to have lunch with you and the other priests at the parsonage. In fact, you requested that Mrs. Ellison prepare rosemary chicken, kale greens, and wild rice. I reminded her yesterday before noonday mass.”
After the trip to Chicago and his unexpected troubles with Royce fresh on his brain, Father Gregory wondered how he had managed to rise early, dress, and make it to the church without falling apart. There was no way he could’ve remembered the luncheon. His life was in shambles. He hadn’t slept very much the night before, worrying about his relationship with Royce, if they still had a relationship. Father Gregory truly loved her, and although their relationship was a forbidden one, he had fully devoted his heart to her. But Royce wanted more. She wanted his soul, but it belonged to God. He’d made a vow that he simply could not break.
“Father, are you all right, sir?” Sister Ellen Marie walked closer to his desk. “You seem troubled, distant, as if you’re someplace far away.”
Father Gregory rubbed both hands over his face. Exhausted and upset, he attempted to sound normal. “I’m tired from the trip. That’s all. I’ll leave here early today and go home to rest.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll leave you to your work now.”
Alone and surrounded by quietness, Father Gregory still was unable to concentrate on his sermon or any of the memos in his inbox. Royce’s sad face damp with tears at the airport was all he could think about. He had never meant to hurt her.
Life was so unfair. She certainly deserved a commitment from him, and he was worthy of a wife. If Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Episcopal, and other Christian ministers were allowed to marry and father children, why couldn’t he? Non-Christian holy men like Imams of the Islamic faith, Hindu pujaris, and some Buddhist monks, depending on the sect, were permitted to wed as well. Were these men of faith any less committed to their gods than he was just because they had wives and children? Father Gregory thought not. If he could marry Royce, he believed he would be better able to serve the church. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d be much happier, and his needs, both emotional and physical, would be thoroughly met. But the rule had been made over 2,000 years ago, and he and every other Roman Catholic priest were bound by it.
Father Gregory looked at the phone on his desk as if willing it to ring. “Call me, Royce. Just pick up the phone, darling, and call me.”
* * *
Tyler walked into the dark den and flipped the light switch on. He dropped his backpack on the recliner. “Seriously? You’re not going to work again today, Auntie?”
“I’m still recovering from my trip, sweet pea.”
“But it’s Wednesday. You’ve had two and a half days to rest. And what’s up with all the ice cream? I know you like pralines and cream and all, but too much of that stuff will make you sick.” Tyler laughed. “I should know.”
“It makes me feel better,” Royce mumbled. “After this carton, I won’t eat any more. I promise.”
“I better get to the bus stop. Old man Sanders will leave me if I’m not there at ten minutes ’til seven sharp. I’m so happy this is my last week of school. I’ll see you later.”
“Have a good day, sweetie.”
Royce got up, turned off the light, and plopped back down on the sofa. She preferred the darkness because it matched her state of mind. Her favorite ice cream was her medicine, although it wasn’t working so well. She wanted to talk to Father Gregory, but she didn’t really need to right now.
The few days they’d been out of contact had given her lots of time to search her heart and come to grips with some important facts. Zora was right. She had been deluding herself. She and Father Gregory had no future together. He did love her, though. Royce felt it every time he entered her, joining their two bodies together as one. No one, not even Zora, could convince her otherwise.
And it wasn’t just the way he made love to her. Royce felt Father Gregory’s love whenever he sat quietly and listened to her talk for hours about her businesses. He comforted her whenever she was sick and often surprised her with special gifts just because. The time he spent with Tyler was priceless, and it was all because of his love for her. Above all, Father Gregory had sacrificed his soul, sinning against God and the Catholic Church every day just to be a part of Royce’s life. But it still wasn’t enough. No matter how much of himself he gave to her, she wasn’t satisfied.
The telephone rang. More than likely it was Tabatha calling with an early morning report. Royce lifted the phone from its cradle. “Hello?”
“What’s up, cuz? I just hung up with Tabatha. Why aren’t you at work? Are you sick?”
“I’m under the weather today, Andra. How are you?”
“Were you under the weather yesterday and the day before too? For a woman who just returned from a trip to Chicago with her secret lover, you sound horrible.”
Royce’s back stiffened. “What are you talking about? Who said I went to Chicago with a man?”
“I’m not stupid,” Andra said, snickering like she’d just heard a good joke. “I know you’re seeing someone, cuz. Why are keeping him under the covers? I want to meet him.”
“It’s complicated and . . . and . . .” Royce started sobbing. “My life is so screwed up, Andra. I feel like I’m about to lose my damn mind.”
“I’m coming over.”
“What about the midday news?”
Andra smacked her lips. “Girl, that’s why I have an assistant producer. I trained Dreyfus well. He can handle it. I’m on my way. Do you need me to bring anything? Maybe a bottle of wine?”
“Can you bring me a carton of pralines and cream ice cream?”
“I’ll bring you two.”
* * *
“That was a mighty fine meal, Mrs. Ellison. And the peach cobbler was the best I’ve ever tasted. Thank you.”
The older woman smiled and continued gathering empty plates from the table. “It was my pleasure, Father Gregory.”
“We certainly enjoyed it. We don’t get good Southern cookin
g like this in Boston,” one of the young future priests said.
“We sure don’t,” another one confirmed.
The other young men nodded in agreement. Father Gregory and his housemates smiled. They were blessed to have Mrs. Ellison as their cook. But Father Gregory preferred Royce’s cooking.
“I would like for all of you to see our garden,” Father Rivera told the young men. “It’s in the back of the house. We have rows and rows of all kinds of vegetables. There’re rosebushes, too, on the other side. Come with me.”
Father Rivera stood and left the room with Father Schmidt and seven of the eight theology students following him. The other young man remained seated at the table with Father Gregory.
“Father, can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure,” he said, folding his hands on the tabletop.
The young man looked around the dining room nervously. “It’s a very private matter, sir.”
“I understand. Let’s go to the study. No one will disturb us there.”
Father Gregory led the aspiring priest to the spacious study and closed the door. He took a seat behind the antique cherry-wood desk. “What is your name?”
The young man sat in the vacant chair facing the desk. “I’m Darius.”
“How may I help you, Darius?”
“How old were you when you received the call from God to become a priest?”
“I was quite young actually. Seven years old to be exact.”
Darius’s bright green eyes widened with shock. It amused Father Gregory.
“I was fifteen. Since that day, I’ve been preparing for a life in the priesthood. I truly believed it was my calling to serve God and humanity through the Catholic Church.”
“Are you having doubts now, Darius?”
He nodded and lowered his eyes to the floor. “Yes, Father, I am.”
“Tell me why.”
“I met a wonderful young lady. Her name is Millicent. I literally ran into her at the bookstore on campus. At first, we were just friends, but then we started hanging out and having fun. Then one day I woke up and realized that I’d rather be with her more than anyone else in the world. She makes me laugh, and she understands my quirkiness. We just click.”