Sweetest Sin(22)

Blessed little angel.

She’d need it.

“And what will you do, Father?”

“What I have done for the last five years of my life…” I met her gaze, lost within the mysteries in her stare. “I will be a good priest.”

Honor nodded, slipping from the hall to return to the meeting. I listened until I could no longer hear the echo of her steps.

She left me, but I was not free.

I collapsed before the monstrance, the sanctified golden box that held the Host.

I prayed harder than I’d prayed in years.

“Heaven help me…” I clenched my rosaries. “I fear I’m turning to sin.”





Chapter Five – Honor




What was I thinking joining the choir?

I plunked down in the vestibule, not ready to head into the sanctuary. The organ tuned from inside, but no one was ready for the auditions yet.

I wondered if he was in the church.

Then I hated myself for such a thought.

The choir girl and the priest? It was a bad joke waiting to happen. Toss in a bar and the Pope’s hat, and we were as cliché as we were damned.

I’d dreamt of him. Again. It was the third night this week, and the images only became more powerful, more…explicit. As if my body hadn’t tested me enough, now my mind captured me too.

And I liked the fantasies it created.

What was wrong with me? My heart strained and beat and panicked, as if trapped within his arms once more. He had hardened that night in the adoration chapel. It throbbed through the cassock, through the pants beneath.

I’d never met a man so full of contradiction. Here was a virile, passionate, sensual man, rippled with muscle and straining with desire…but instead of sinful delights, he chose the collar. The blindingly white and pure beacon represented a man of morals, faith, and celibacy.

Both sides of him were masculine, so very strong and powerful. Just my luck, the clerical clothing only accentuated every strength carried in his broad shoulders, thick arms, and tight chest.

If the world had been made for a man like Raphael, maybe Eve wouldn’t have wandered alone through the garden…

Or maybe he would have become her original sin?

I arrived fifteen minutes early for the auditions—thanks in part to still planning my day via bus schedules. I often forgot I had Mom’s car. At least one good thing came from her suspended license—it was easier to get from classes to work and then to the church.

I dropped the bag carrying my books for my summer classes. The math, English, and polysci credit were cheaper during the summer. It was worth the drive to take them at the satellite campus instead of at the college this fall.

Not that it mattered. I hoarded all the credits and community service hours I could keep from the transfer, but I was short the classes I needed to graduate on schedule. Going part-time meant it’d take longer than a year to finish my degree, even with the summer’s extra courses. Figured. The incompletes I earned after Dad’s funeral sophomore year still haunted me.

Along with every other aspect of that day.

I opened my laptop. Carefully. It was old, still clunking along from freshman year. I didn’t trust the fuzzy rattle coming from the fans. I’d need a new one, but I had no idea where to spare the money for a replacement. Mom was a month behind on the rent, two on the water bill, and still owed fines from the accident.

This was why I came home. To help. But had no idea it had gotten this bad for her. Then again, once I was accepted to college, I ran. I’d rarely visited, even for holidays.

And after Dad had died, I never thought I’d come home again.

I rooted through my second bag—a change of clothes, bottle of water, and my packed lunch. My stomach rumbled, but I regretted packing an apple to eat.

Of all the stupid fruit to bring into the church.

I grabbed the pack of crackers instead and nibbled through to get to the peanut butter. The vestibule doors opened, and Alyssa and Samantha strolled inside, arm in arm. They greeted me with wide smiles.

That meant trouble.

“This is so great,” Alyssa said. Today, her hair bound high in a ponytail, so perky she should have sat on top of a cheerleading pyramid. “It’s like the whole gang is back together.”

Samantha twirled in a skirt that might’ve doubled for a priest’s stole. “I knew we’d have some fun this summer. It’s been hell getting through Saint Francis’s programs. Can you believe a college has a dress code?”

I started to see the appeal. I offered them a cracker, and Alyssa took it with a wicked arch of her eyebrow.

“Is Daddy El here yet?”

My mouth dried, and the cracker turned to ash. I grabbed my water bottle and chugged. Even that tasted of sulfur.