Honor hid within the adoration chapel—a quiet room of medication and prayer separate from the nave. The lights were dimmed so she might have lit a prayer candle if she wished. Instead, she let the glow of her cell phone illuminate the room.
She wasn’t crying, but I didn’t need tears to recognize when someone was lost.
Vulnerable.
My greatest temptation wasn’t a woman whispering my name as she sated her desires. I resisted then, but I couldn’t resist what called to me now. A beautiful woman who needed my help.
She suffered alone, frightened and confused. And somehow she made me more aware of the man beneath the collar than any challenge yet to my ordination.
I should have left her—recommended another priest to guide her through these feelings. But those emotions and desires, wantings and memories were mine and mine alone.
It wasn’t temptation to desire her. It was an obsession that would bind her to me—physically, emotionally…spiritually.
And no matter what I did, what comfort I gave, or how honestly I denied my own attraction, I lost a piece of my soul when I surrendered to her in that mutual destruction.
I hesitated in the entry and bowed to the monstrance, the displayed body of Christ nestled within a golden vessel. The communion wafer, consecrated, tucked safely within the glass for the pious to view and adore.
Please forgive this weakness.
“Honor.”
She stood, her hands tangling in her skirt, checking to ensure it was proper and modest.
If only she realized how the motion drew more attention to the heavenly softness of her dark curves.
“Father Rafe…Raphael.”
Any name or title rolled from her lips as sweet as sugar.
“You left the meeting,” I said.
“Yeah. I needed…to think.”
“Can I help?”
“You?” She shook her head. Dancing curls cascaded over her face. She tucked them behind her ear. “No, Father. I doubt you can help.”
“May I try?”
Honor crossed her arms as if it would hide her. “No. I shouldn’t speak with you.”
“Why?”
“Because, right now? What I need most is for you to be just a priest again.”
The implication stung. I gritted my teeth. “I am a priest, Honor.”
She shifted. Awkward. Frightened?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate…” She shook her head. “After what happened between us, I’m not sure what to think.”
“It was just a mistake.”
“I don’t believe that. Mistakes are accidental. This was…”
She quieted and clutched her phone. I practically felt her prayer. She must have begged for a text or call to buzz the iPhone so she’d have an excuse to run.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said. “I can’t be with you, Father. We can’t pretend this is innocent now.”
And I doubted it’d ever be innocent again.
But Honor needed me. No one in my congregation deserved to be without hope.
I folded my hands, catching the beads of my rosaries between my fingers. “Do you know…I’ve been with this parish for three years?”
She wasn’t ready for this impromptu lesson. I’d deliver it anyway.
“During my time here, I’ve organized new groups. I’ve led prayers. I’ve helped with the charities.” I gestured to the hall, back to the women’s group. “For three years, I’ve tried to lead this congregation and introduce to them a sense of community and selflessness and faith.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She must have recognized the fatigue in my voice. Not surrender, but certainly not optimism. I sighed. “Do you know what I learned, after all those hours and plans and dreams for this parish?”
Honor shrugged. “That…you could lead a horse to holy water, but…”
“Exactly.” I smiled. “I wanted this congregation to examine themselves—to find reason in their faith as well as their failings. Even the women’s group has spent weeks reading and debating and researching every unique way they can serve the church. Leadership, the ideals of femininity, rectifying church misogyny, motherhood, healing, teaching, education, charity…”
“It’s noble,” she said.
“Maybe. For three years, I believed I was a positive influence on this church.”
“You don’t think you’re doing a good job?”
Not anymore. “I failed. Momentarily, I assure you. I don’t tolerate failure in myself.”
“But you haven’t failed, Father.”
“Of course I have. I’ve preached values and I’ve warned of vices, but I learned something in these past few days.” I held her gaze. “I haven’t instilled a sense of humility in my flock.”