Father Figure

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “‘How many are your works, Lord!’” Gabriel’s voice made me jump. As I turned towards him, his eyes were lost in the far horizon, his tone wistful. “‘In wisdom, you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. There is the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number—living things both large and small.’ Psalm 104.”

  “That’s … nice,” I said cautiously.

  Gabriel stood and met my gaze with weariness and resignation.

  “What am I going to do with you, Blue?”

  I lowered my voice and looked up at him through my lashes. “Anything you want, Gabriel.”

  He sighed, but didn’t look away. “What I want and what’s going to happen are two different things. I’m not the man you need, honey. I’m … broken, for want of a better word. And I’m old enough to be your father.”

  “Are you my father figure, Father Gabriel?” I smirked at him.

  A small smile pulled his lips upwards. “If we’re still having our truce, can we try for friends?”

  The word knotted in my stomach but I nodded minutely, and I turned to the panorama stretching out from sea to sky.

  “I can see why you like it here—that’s an amazing view. It’s…”

  “...infinitely peaceful,” he finished for me. “Takes a man away from all the noise in his head. All those problems seem less significant up here with so much space around you and air to breathe. Do you feel like that?”

  No. My problem was standing in front of me right now.

  I was embarrassed when he fell to his knees and started to pray.

  “Most High, good Lord, you revealed to St. Francis that You are Father of all creation. Thank you for the peace and beauty of these mountains, for the infinite sky and bountiful oceans. Grant us, Lord, the grace to see Your beauty and likeness in created things that we may follow St. Francis in showing care for creation. Reveal your greatness to your daughter, Blue, that she may feel the love in your heart for her and all living creatures. Amen.”

  He rose from his knees and gave me a gentle smile. I could feel the contentment in him, the peace that came from praying. And I was jealous. Why did he get to feel peace? Why did he get to be forgiven? Why was he smiling when I burned and burned and burned?

  I didn’t speak, and after a moment waiting, Gabriel turned to roll up his sleeping bag and break camp, which took all of thirty seconds.

  “So, what do you want to do, Blue?” he asked in a neutral tone, unaware of the rage boiling inside me. “I could give you the keys to my car and you can hike down the mountain and spend the day at the campsite, if you promise not to steal my car…”

  “What’s the other option?”

  He grinned at me. “Hike up the mountain with me, if you think you’re tough enough.”

  “You’re a frickin’ Navy SEAL and I’m wearing sneakers! No, I don’t think I’m tough enough.”

  He shrugged. “Your choice,” and tossed me his car keys.

  I honestly did think about taking off in his car, but I decided it would bug him more to hike the mountain with him, so I tucked the keys in my pocket and set off after him. He glanced back once, but didn’t stop or slow down, and I slogged after him until sweat was soaking my t-shirt and my crotch felt damp. I hated physical exercise—it was so damn pointless. Although I had to admit that Gabriel’s body was worth the effort he put into it—the man was a machine, a beautiful, sinful body with a dark and twisted mind.

  We climbed the trail all morning until he stopped at a small spring, refilled his water bottle and popped a purification tablet into it.

  “Drink,” he said, passing me the bottle.

  I was more interested in splashing water over my face and arms, but I did as I was told.

  “‘He gives power to the faint, abundant strength to the weak. Though young men faint and grow weary, and youths stagger and fall, they that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar on eagles’ wings; They will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint.’ Isaiah.”

  “Are you gonna have a quote for everything?” I asked grumpily.

  “‘Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.’ That’s from Matthew.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Exactly,” he laughed. “I can keep this up all day, Blue. Question is, can you? The only easy day is yesterday.”

  “Which part of the Bible is that from, hotshot?” I snapped.

  “BUD/S 101,” he grinned.

  Since I didn’t have an answer to that, I had to put up with him laughing his ass off. Shit, I should have taken his car when I had the chance.

  “Do you really think there’s someone up there listening when you pray?” I taunted him.

  Gabriel just continued to smile. “I pray because I can’t not pray. It doesn’t change God, it changes me.”

  I thought about that as we continued our hike, but it still didn’t make much sense to me.

  We stopped an hour later and he used his hunting knife to kill some poor innocent rabbit who wandered into his path. I had to look away as he gutted it. But it tasted damn good cooked with the MRE rations that he cracked open.

  I was too tired to argue with him or bait him anymore, so I let him talk. He told me about life on the Teams, not actual missions which might have been kind of interesting, but shit like the hand signals they used: how many enemies there were and where they were hiding. That was quite interesting, not that I admitted that.

  Finally, he looked at the sun and said it was time to head back.

  Limping behind him, my thighs trembling with the effort, sweat stinging my eyes and covered in a billion bug bites despite spraying myself, we tramped back to his car. The lower we went, the more he seemed to feel the weight on his shoulders again.

  When we reached his car, tension was radiating from his body. I couldn’t help wondering why he was a priest if it made him feel like that. But I didn’t speak as I climbed into his car and slept most of the way back to the city. The last few miles, I was just dozing, but even so I could tell that Gabriel seemed more rigid, more confined as we neared home, I mean, the rectory. The easy openness of the mountains had been replaced by tension in his shoulders and a frown on his face.

  I woke up more fully as we drove down the street leading to the rectory. I opened my eyes and yawned, glancing around me, then froze.

  Directly across from the rectory, in the very same alley where I’d hidden nearly three weeks ago, stood Cornelius, his pale blue watery eyes fixed on me.

  Gabriel’s voice was sharp. “You know him?”

  “Nope,” I lied. “Why?”

  “He seems awful interested in you, Blue.”

  I shivered. Gabriel was right—Cornelius had always had a thing for me. It was one of the reasons I’d moved out of mom’s place. Kind of ironic that living in squats was safer than living with my parental unit. And I really wasn’t happy that he’d found me now. It could only mean trouble.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gabriel

  The morning sun shined brighter than it had in weeks. After confessing my sins to Father Michael, spending the night in the mountains with Blue and still controlling myself and not fucking her, I had a new resolve. A new purpose. There is a saying in BUD/S: clarity is in the eyes, love is in the heart, and fear is in the mind. After confessing to Father Michael and talking with him later man to man, then being away from the confines of the Church overnight, I was clear with my mission: I was attracted to Blue, but I’d managed to control. Eventually. My fear had been of falling into temptation, and I had. I’d kissed her in the mountains, but then I’d pushed her away. I’d said ‘no’. I wouldn’t let it happen again. The mark of a man was how he rebounded from failure. I had to push through and still be there for her.

  I told myself that I loved Blue as one of God’s children, and I’d damn well make it true. But before I could visit Blue and have an open and honest talk with her, I had something to take care o
f.

  I had to go to confession—but this time I would be receiving them, not giving them. I had my job to do, and there was a relief and joy in doing my duty for God.

  I sat in the confessional booth back at my church, listening with fresh understanding to the daily trials that made man and woman weak. The day’s confessions were of the standard fare—lustful thoughts, yelling at children, nagging at spouses.

  There was a pause and my final confession arrived just as I was ready to call it a day.

  I heard the door to the confessional open and a woman’s form entered.

  “Hello, Father. I’m Lilith.”

  Lilith? The temptress? The demon? Who named their daughter after evil, for fuck’s sake? There were some twisted people out there—I should know, being one of them.

  “You don’t need to tell me your name—is this your first time, confessing your sins?”

  Her voice lowered.

  “Yeah, it’s my first time. Forgive me, Father. I have sinned. This is my first confession. Did I say it right?”

  The sweet, sexy voice startled me—it sounded like Blue. Her voice haunted my dreams and now she was haunting me in the damn daylight, too.

  I must be losing it. Seeing her everywhere, hearing her everywhere. My mind was playing tricks on me. How embarrassing would it be to open the curtain and expose this woman’s identity just because I had become obsessed with Blue?

  “Yes, that’s fine. Could I ask you to kneel?”

  Many churches had alternative ways of confessing where the Priest and penitent sat face to face in a modern, airy room. But I preferred the mystery of the confessional, the grille, the half-light, the awe and wonder of the encounter. I wasn’t Gabriel Thorne in here, I was in persona Christi, and there should be no distractions.

  “You want me on my knees?”

  I nearly choked on her words and only just held it together. Sweat broke out on my forehead.

  “Yes, my child,” I swallowed, sounding like I’ve been chewing on gravel. “Go on.”

  “I have been touching myself … you know … down there between my legs … in pleasure.”

  Dammit! Now I knew that it was Blue. She was fucking with me. But I had to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was truly sorry for her sins, as I was for mine.

  “Go on.”

  “I have tried to be good, Father, I swear. But I’m filled with lust. I can’t stop rubbing my pussy. And it gets so wet, I’m so horny. I can’t stop thinking about my priest. I want to suck his cock. I want him to fuck me. ”

  Blood left my brain and rushed south. The temptation was torture. I knew I was a sinner. I was not perfect. And I wanted to sin right now.

  Hell, I was still a frail, impure man.

  And I’d just made a vow. Confessed my own sins and promised to be free from her temptation. Only hours ago, I’d been so resolute about getting back on the right track. But I was so weak right now. Something about Blue made me weak. Seeing her own vulnerability when we’d been in the mountains, seeing her open to me a little, I’d liked it too much. I wanted her … I wanted to protect her.

  “I know it’s bad, Father,” she went on, her voice wickedly low. “Really, really bad, but it would be so good. Do you think it would be good? Can bad things be good? And if God doesn’t want me to feel like this, why did he give me a clit? Why do I have orgasms thinking about my priest? You deserve to feel good too, you know. They say you’re a good man. Let me make you feel good.”

  She was taunting me, twisting my words and that burned me. But this was every priest’s fantasy. Have a hot young girl confessing to her dirty thoughts, especially when they were about you. My mind rushed back to the empty years of partying hard—drinking; fucking; mindless, thoughtless, unemotional sex. And I could hear my old Drill Sergeant’s voice inside my head, If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.

  I knew what I should do. What I was ordained to do. What God wanted me to do: kick her out of the church. I couldn’t save anyone who didn’t want to be saved.

  But for once in my life since I’d been celibate, I didn’t ignore the temptation. I wanted it. I was willing to risk it all. Why? Why this girl? Why was my head so full of her that I’d risk losing everything? I couldn’t think clearly with her scent in my nostrils, her sultry voice teasing and taunting me. I’d given up my identity as a SEAL, and now I was prepared to give up the core of who I was? My brain misfired as I thought of her so close, so close to me.

  I was sure she’d been sent to tempt me, but I didn’t know if it was by God or the Devil.

  Hadn’t I’d punished myself enough?

  I took in a long breath. What I was about to do would get me ex-communicated from the Church. But I couldn’t care anymore. I needed her. I deserved her. Haven’t I suffered enough, Lord? Hadn’t I paid the price for my sins? So weak. She un-mans you. Take her! Show her you’re the one in control!

  Blue’s voice whispered through the grille of the confessional. “I’m down on my knees, Father. Isn’t that what you like?”

  My mind blanked. I opened the grille door, and there she was, kneeling in front of me like she’d said.

  I think I’d surprised her. Her eyes became wary, but she didn’t back down. She licked her lips and gave that tantalizing half-smile that drove me wild.

  “Then do it, Blue. Suck my cock.” I’d finally spoken the words aloud. The priest had melted away and been replaced by the dirty Navy SEAL. My voice sounded alien to my ears, hoarse, almost desperate, but she didn’t miss a beat.

  “Yes, Father.”

  I lifted my blessed vestments, giving her access, and she reached into my pants and before I could come to my senses, she wrapped her plump lips around me. I gasped for air. Her mouth felt incredible, I had almost forgotten how amazing getting a blow job was and my knees buckled.

  Blue worked my cock, her hand gripped around the base as she sucked around the tip. Her tongue licked under my head and I was desperate to come in her mouth. Ten years.

  Guilt, lust, shock, the intensity roared inside me, blood pounding in my head, pounding in my cock.

  Her right hand pumped me as she sucked harder and deeper. I fucked the back of her throat. I used every bit of my waning self-control to hold back but I couldn’t. I exploded into her mouth, pleasure bursting through my soul, for a second wiping out the darkness inside me.

  She looked up at me, her sad green eyes begging for … something.

  And for a flash, I saw Luke.

  What the fuck? Was I delusional?

  “Blue, I … we…”

  My eyes were wide with shock as I stammered out an apology, an epiphany—I didn’t know what I was trying to say.

  “Yeah, I know. You’re sorry. You didn’t mean to do that, right? I don’t care if you despise me, I’ve been despised my whole life. You’ll fuck me even though you don’t care about me. You’ll fuck me even though you don’t like me.”

  She pursed her lips and began to cry.

  I was the worst. I’d used her just the way everyone else in her life had.

  In my momentary pleasure-daze that was rapidly draining away, I was speechless. I adjusted myself and before I could straighten up, she darted out of the church.

  If I’d hoped that this one moment of ecstasy would quench my desire for Blue, I was very wrong.

  Because it had done just the opposite. It had lit a fire inside that was going to burn me, scorch me, consume me.

  I wanted her more now than ever. There was something that called to me. A deep connection.

  I raced out of the church, desperate for some fresh air, my mind fractured. Maybe I should bathe in holy water to cleanse myself. Maybe I could have her suck my cock again.

  Could I hear laughter? Was I imagining it? I gripped my hair in frustration. I needed to own up to my own responsibility in this shit—I didn’t let her suck my cock; I commanded her.

  And I fucking loved it.

  I hung my head, disgusted b
y my behavior, elated by it. I felt sure that if I looked in a mirror there’d be two reflections staring back—one laughing, one weeping. My body started to shake. I needed a fucking drink. Possibly a shrink, too, but drink first. I wiped my sleeve across my mouth and almost turned back to the church for a bottle of Communion wine. But I stopped just in time. Christ, I needed help. I needed guidance. I needed to talk to the one man who’d seen me at my worst, my weakest.

  Sweating and nauseous, I drove over to Father Michael’s house and pounded on the door until he answered.

  His eyes widened when he saw me. “Father Gabriel. You look like shite, son. Are you feeling okay?”

  How could I answer that? I felt like I was flying too close to the sun and any moment I’d be plunging to the bottom of the ocean. So better than okay, but also worse.

  “Can we talk?” I asked hoarsely.

  Father Michael waved me into his study and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “I have prayed for you. I knew something was on your mind. Something deep. Tell me, is this about Luke? Or the girl?”

  I nodded. “Yes. No. I mean it’s always about Luke. But this time, it’s more.”

  Father Michael’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”

  “Women.”

  He smiled. “Ah. I see. So you are feeling the ten-year itch.”

  I looked up at him. “The ten-year itch?”

  He walked over to his cabinet, took out an aged bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

  Yeah. The perfect night. A blow job and some whiskey. Luke would be proud. My own sarcasm singed me.

  “Yes. Every priest goes through this struggle. When you are new to the pulpit, you are filled with idealism. Sick of your old life, the vow is a challenge. Especially for someone like you, Father Gabriel. A SEAL. One who will never give up.”

  “And then?”

  “And then the challenge wears off. The daily reality, the longing, it creeps in. It overtakes many good men, many good priests, Gabriel. You’re not the first to face this test and you won’t be the last.”

  That made perfect sense. It had nothing to do with Mariana. Or Luke. I was just caving.