She pulled back so that she could look me in the eye. “God has poured love into my heart for you, Henry. You’ve saved my Mary, not once but twice now. In turn, you’ve saved me. And I am forever in your debt. If there is anything I can do to repay you …”
“There’s no need,” I insisted, but my mind was already weaving stories. Images flickered before my glassy eyes. Her straddling me in a pew…her pinned underneath me in my bed…
As predicted, little Mary was welcomed into the Browns’ home with open arms. The couple were very emotional, thanking me more fervently than even Eve had. Weeks passed, and I saw less and less of the young couple in confession, and more and more of them sitting together in the front at services. They had me baptize Mary, who they’d renamed Veronica. Declaring this outcome a victory, I tried to put Eve and her baby out of my mind.
I no longer strolled by the whorehouse on my morning constitutionals.
I avoided that street altogether in the evening.
I still wake from dreams of her though, drenched in sweat and hard as a rock. I told myself that this would pass with time.
That was, until Eve came to me again.
Confession isn’t exactly what she came for, or at least, not her confession. She came to pry information out of me and used the confessional for her ambush. It was very late and I was hearing contrition after contrition, when the screen lid opened, and the familiar scent of her perfume wafted through the tiny holes separating her part of the partition from mine.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” If I’d had any doubts about who was on the other side, they evaporated with the cadence of her complex voice. “It’s been…oh hell, I have no idea how long it has been since my last confession.”
“Proceed.” My voice sounded terse as I sat forward, eager to hear anything and everything she had to say. She could have confessed to high treason or mass murder, and I’d have absolved her if it meant more time that we’d breathe the same air.
There was a long pause, and I thought I could hear her sniffling. “I’m not here to repent, Henry. I came to check on Mary.”
I should have expected this, but I truly hadn’t believed I’d see her again at all. Many mothers regret giving their babies up; in fact, it’s more common than not. This was different. Eve knew I knew where her baby was, and I knew all too well the damage it would do to Mary’s new, fragile family if Eve changed her mind.
I blew out a long breath. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know…that she’s alive. That she’s not in some terrible orphanage somewhere. That she’s fat and happy.”
“She’s doing very well,” I responded, though in truth, I hadn’t seen her or her parents in a couple of weeks. Still, my pulse boomed in my temples; I was so excited to be in her company again, and I was too wound up to be as cagey as I should have been. “She’s part of a family now, like you wanted.”
“Can you take me to see her?” Her words came out in a rush, as if she’d been waiting years to ask this.
I sucked in a breath, my hushed tone thunderous in the enclosed space. “Eve…”
“They don’t even have to know who I am, Father. They don’t even have to see me…I just want to see her.”
“…You have to know this is a terrible idea. If you’ve changed your mind—”
“I haven’t. She wouldn’t be safe with me. That hasn’t changed. I just need to lay eyes on her before I leave Ireland. It would give me peace of mind. It would…fortify me.”
Doubt collapsed on me like an avalanche. So many things could go terribly wrong. My brain sounded warning bells, but my heart told me she needed this. I was paralyzed with indecision, and speechless in response.
The partition to my right moved and she entered my side of the confessional. By the faint glow of the lanterns outside, she was luminous. She stepped straight between my legs without hesitation. Her closeness disarmed me, and her gaze held me captive.
“I’d be forever grateful, Henry.” My upturned face was virtually nestled between the firm ivory flesh of her bosoms. “I wouldn’t bother them, and I’d never return. I wouldn’t tell them who I was or that she was mine. I’d never tell anyone you told me where she was.”
“I can’t—”
She knelt down so that she was eye level with me, and once again, I was drowning. Her incredible confidence disarmed me. “But you can, Padre. You’re the only one who can. I know it. You know it. Nothing bad will happen here. What can I do to change your mind?”
I tried to object as she dropped to her knees, but my words caught in my throat when she gripped me firmly through my trousers.
“Say no more,” she cooed, squeezing my hardness before unfastening the buttons with deft fingers. “I’ll make you see the face of God.”
A rattling at the cathedral door whisks me from my revelry back to the cold winter evening at present.
“We’re closed!” I shout, remembering that I’d bolted the front door before I’d gone to meet her, right after the incident with the Bishop. This sanctuary was Eve’s and mine tonight. I’d given everything to my congregation since taking my vows, and they could give me this.
Eve mumbles against her gag from underneath the burlap. It sounds as if she’s praying, but I’d gagged her well when she was unconscious, so I can’t be entirely sure.
Turning back to the altar, I continue my prayer. “…but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all-good and deserving of all my love.”
The undulating package beside me writhes, and Eve’s head appears from the hole in the top. Her eyes roll around as she tries to get her bearings, and they finally fix on me. She’s pleading with me—not that I can make out what she’s saying—but I know her tone and the look in her eyes.
“I know, my darling,” I respond. “But the time has come to repent, and you’ll take far longer than I will with your endless list of sins, so please, just let me finish. Then it’ll be your turn.”
Her pleading ceases, and her tears start to fall. Though I try to ignore her, I waver, and a few moments later I collapse back on my heels, weeping along with her. She wept this same way when I took her to see Mary, and her vulnerability had been the final nail in my coffin.
“How much farther?” She sounded slightly out of breath as we ventured down the long lane leading to the Browns’ farmhouse. Fallen leaves crunched under our boots, but the autumn night was surprisingly warm. Even so, I felt numb all over.
“Perhaps another mile…maybe two.” It was strange to be making this trip at night, but after what she’d done to me in the confessional, I felt obligated not to dally. I was already semi hard again just thinking about her mouth, and regardless of the fact that we were out in the open, I was eager for a repeat performance.
I ruminated in silence about my oath, the one that I’d just obliterated, wondering why I had so few regrets. Maybe I was just born to be a cad. Perhaps my faith had never really been that strong, and I’d just needed proper motivation to sample the sins of the flesh. Likely Eve was the deciding factor. Had such a perfect woman not been placed in my path, I suspect I’d have gone to my grave pure as the day I was born.
Before I could come up with any solid answers, the large white house was in our sights. I’d merely promised her a peek. We would not be knocking or entering, we’d be peeping, two voyeurs stealing a glimpse at Mary’s new life.
We approached cautiously, though I’d been there recently and had assured Eve along the way that they had no dogs to sound the alarm. Still, we were not here to attract any attention, and I was ill-prepared to answer questions if we encountered anyone. Any gentleman escorting an unmarried lass at this time of night would have been regarded with reproach, but a priest and a prostitute?
I guided Eve to the parlor window, suspecting the family would be visible there. We could hear Mrs. Brown signing a lullaby, but we both dodged in a hurry when we saw she was pacing the floor, the fussing baby over her shoulder.
&nbs
p; “My poor darling. Are you getting a tooth?” Her words were muffled through the glass of the windows, but she seemed to be growing nearer. Mustering courage, I stole a glance and saw she was sitting with her back to the window, and I gestured for Eve to take a look.
Once in place, we could see quite clearly the infant over her shoulder. The baby had grown so much in the weeks since I’d baptized her. Her dark hair had mostly vanished. We had a perfect view of Mary’s round face, rosy cheeks, and bright, alert eyes, which homed in on us immediately.
Eve clasped a hand over her mouth at the sight of her daughter, her eyes glistening in the glow from the window. Mary smiled at us and stuffed one tiny fist into her mouth.
“She’s beautiful, Henry.” Eve’s hushed declaration couldn’t be disputed. Mary nuzzled Mrs. Brown’s shoulder, rooting around as if looking for a breast to latch onto. We watched her a while longer, listening to Mrs. Brown sing in Gaelic, Eve sniffling every couple of minutes. The sound of hooves approaching finally pulled our attention away, and we stepped into the bushes just in time to see Mr. Brown crest the hill atop his black steed. The hour was late, and a sinking feeling overtook me. I wonder now how different things might have been had I listened to that instinct, or if we’d left before he arrived.
He was only a few yards from where we hid when he clumsily dismounted, stumbling awkwardly and swearing in a slur.
“Son of a whore.” Spitting, he kicked his horse as if it were the animal’s fault, and the horse whinnied and trotted a safe distance away.
“Let’s go,” I insisted, reaching for Eve’s arm.
“Not yet.” Eve shrugged me away, her expression weighing as heavily as her voice. A door opened and slammed from Mr. Brown’s direction, and though my gut told me to toss Eve over my shoulder and run, we both turned back to the window. Mrs. Brown was on her feet now, clearly alerted to her husband’s arrival by the slamming door.
“Elizabeth! Where’s my dinner?” Mr. Brown thundered, and the moment he came into the room we could see his splotchy complexion and glassy eyes. I’d no doubt he’d been deep in his cups, and when he advanced on his wife, she stepped backward in time with his forward movement, as if they were doing some sort of morbid dance.
“It’s been ready for hours,” Mrs. Brown snapped, surprising me with her boldness. “Where’ve you been the last two nights? Drinking and whoring aga—”
Mr. Brown struck her soundly, and Mrs. Brown’s head ricocheted right into Mary’s. The baby wailed in response, and in my peripheral vision I saw Eve go rigid. Then she bolted away. I sprinted after her, not surprised to see her heading toward the home’s entrance. I grasped her around the waist just before she could grip the doorknob.
“Let me go,” she hissed, pushing uselessly against my chest. I eased my grip and she let loose with a string of curse words in Italian.
I put my finger to her lips. “Eve, you can’t just—”
She batted my hand away. “I won’t sit by and watch this.”
“We aren’t supposed to be here.” I clutched her shoulders, emphasizing each word. Her expression remained vicious, lethal.
“You told me they were good people. You said she’d be safe.”
Unable to dispute her accusation, I pulled her along with me back to the window, hoping whatever we saw there would guide me on what to do next. Mr. Brown was holding the baby, shushing her and bouncing her up and down. His wife was sprawled on the floor in the corner, shell-shocked but otherwise uninjured.
“I’m so sorry, my love,” Mr. Brown slurred, then kissed the baby’s forehead. “You know I’d do anything for the two of you. I just…I had too much to drink tonight and I lost my head.”
He handed Mary back to his wife as if she were a new item in a glass menagerie. “I need to go see to Midnight before he runs off.”
Eve turned to me, and I knew what she was thinking before she said it.
“Go talk to him or I will.” She was righteously indignant, and she had every right to be. I was nearly as angry at the man as she was, and the prospect of confronting Mr. Brown alone was not nearly as unthinkable as storming his threshold had been. I nodded and strode in the direction of the barn to get the impending unpleasantries over with.
It was only a couple of minutes before Mr. Brown appeared with Midnight. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me.
“Father?” I could see the wheels sticking in his inebriated mind as he tried to reconcile my presence in this place at this hour.
“Daniel,” I replied, all calm before a storm. “I came to check on Mary.”
“Veronica. We named her Veronica. And she’s not in my barn now, is she?” He laughed, but the sound was far from genuine. His crooked smile vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, and his beady eyes narrowed, much as they had just before he charged his blushing bride. “Isn’t it a bit late to come calling? And so far from home. Perhaps you were checking in on my wife and what is up her skirts, rather than the baby.”
Our stare-down continued, and I was not amused by his accusations. “Does she need checking up on, Daniel?”
He knew then, what I had seen. I could see it in his eyes and smell it all over him. Midnight could too, because he stomped and snorted, sensing his master’s agitation. Daniel Brown knew I’d witnessed what he’d done, and he was livid that he’d be outed. He closed the distance between us, dragging his skittish horse along with him. Aggravated, I stood my ground, and when he was close enough to touch me, he stuck a finger into my sternum.
“I don’t know who you think you are coming in he—” He didn’t even get a chance to finish before the loud thwack stopped him mid-word. His face went blank as if all thoughts were wiped from him like a blackboard, and, boneless, he fell forward toward me.
“Daniel?” I put my hands up to break his fall, lowering his dead weight into the soft hay at our feet. As he landed on his side, I saw a pronounced dent in the back of his head. I noticed dainty boots beside him, and following them upward, I saw Eve clutching a bloody farm tool in her hand.
“What have you done?”
Her inscrutable eyes didn’t shift from Brown’s face. “What needed to be done.”
She tossed the farm tool into the far corner, which was full of hay bales, and then turned on her heel, sashaying out of the barn. Saying a quick prayer over Daniel Brown’s body, I made the sign of the cross over him and hurried out into the blackness after her.
“They’ll think he was kicked by his horse.” Her shoulders back and head held high, she didn’t break her stride when I caught up to her, just continued on in the direction home. “Especially if anyone else has ever seen him hurt it like we did.”
“Eve, stop.” I reached for her, and she slowed in response. “You need to ask for forgiveness.”
“Why? I’m not sorry, Henry. He was going to hurt you. I couldn’t allow it. And he hurt my Mary. I may have given her up but she is still mine.” She stopped then, wrapping her arms around my neck and gripping me by the hair. She kissed me hard enough to bruise me, and I could feel her trembling as she tugged me to the ground beneath our feet. Her mouth barely left mine long enough to mutter between kisses. “No one shall hurt the ones that I love.”
Love.
So she loved me too.
Heaven help me that was all she had to say. Her savage mouth and the way she pawed my clothes aside just sealed the deal.
Yet later, as I presided over Daniel Brown’s funeral and comforted his wailing widow as she sobbed in the dirt beside his grave, doubt crept back in. Guilt was my unwelcome visitor, spying on me in the mirror and whispering to me while I was trying to fall asleep at night.
Weeks went by, and I couldn’t eat for days at a time. I barely slept. I came down with a terrible cough, and every time I was about to fall apart, Eve would show up at my door under the cloak of nightfall. I’d voluntarily get lost in her flesh, my weary face buried in her hair, and she’d fortify me once more. As her visits increased, my sermons were less about
sin and more about loving thy neighbor. I’d learned to set my watch by her visits, and my trips to my parishioners were fewer and far between. I managed to stop my nightly treks by her place of business, speculating about who in town she was servicing. I knew exactly where she’d be in her free time, and told myself that for now what we had was enough.
The evening before Thanksgiving, I’d forced myself to leave the rectory and call on some of my elderly flock, several of whom had insisted on sending me home with leftovers. Evidently, it’s customary for the well-bred Catholic to prepare extra for their poor and lonely local priest. Eve appreciated their custom and showed a particular fondness for warm cranberry sauce, which she skillfully trickled down my nude chest. As she took her time lapping it off of me, she stared up at my reactions from under her lashes, like a wild cat, playing with its prey.
She tilted her head. “Come with me, Henry.”
“Wh-what?” My breath caught in my throat, surprise overwhelming my pleasure.
“Leave this place and come with me to America. We can start new lives where no one knows us. We can take Mary when that woman is asleep.” The nearby hearth fire was reflected in her dark eyes, her excited smile clouded in shadows. “Board the ship before anyone even realizes she is gone. I’ve nearly enough passage saved for the both of us. I’ll have the rest in a fortnight.”
Had she just suggested we run, there would have been no debate. I would have followed her to the far ends of the earth, given up my collar, left my family and my calling, abandoned it all. But stealing a child from a mourning widow—that was straying too far from my path. Yes, Mary was Eve’s baby, but she had given her up. I knew I couldn’t voice such thoughts to Eve, who was so invigorated by such notions that she kept me up all night, riding me with extra vigor. Our situation had spiraled, and I was out of my depth. I couldn’t recuse myself, and desperately needed to seek counsel.
Fortunately, my mentor and longtime friend, Bishop McDougal, arrived the following day intent on having Thanksgiving with me whilst on his way up the coast to visit other parishes. McDougal was down to earth for a Bishop, renowned for his impressive presence and silver tongue. My family had known the McDougals long before I joined the priesthood, his people hailing from the same part of Cornwall as mine. My father often remarked that McDougal had been born to lead. Even the Cardinal once joked that he’d missed a calling as an actor or perhaps a general, but McDougal, to his credit, had just laughed and said he was leading God’s army instead. I trusted McDougal without hesitation, having been his devoted friend and student since seminary. He’d be able to help me sort out my tainted soul, if there was any help to be had.
Love is Strange: A Taboo Anthology Page 5