Sweetest Sin(33)

Or pray.

I gathered my things, squeezing his hand before I left. I’d see him again before it was time…but the opportunities were dwindling. It wouldn’t be long.

And thoughts like that forced me into prayer. I could face temptation. I could confront my sins. I could kiss the most beautiful angel God had created.

But I couldn’t combat death.

Nor should I have wanted to, not when I believed his soul would never eternally die. Benjamin would simply leave me behind.

Alone.

But his presence would remain within me—in his teachings, his lessons, in how he’d shown me to conduct myself, in the way he’d help me to celebrate the Mass. I hadn’t needed him to guide me in years, but it wasn’t the future that concerned me.

It was the past.

The wounds he guarded.

The life I used to have.

The pain I traded for salvation.

I returned to the church in the mid-afternoon, just in time for an emergency adultery confession which necessitated a hastily scheduled wedding. The secretary scheduled the appropriate counseling for the soon-to-be married couple and parents, and I surveyed the diocese paperwork and readings in my email.

Benjamin asked me to pray for an hour. I wished I could. Even during my visit with him, I had resolved four crises, answered a dozen emails, and sent a flurry of texts. I knew it was foolish to try and pray during my busiest time of the day. I managed five minutes before the lock-in at St. Cecilia’s middle school had to be rescheduled and my phone rang with another festival emergency.

I didn’t have time for lunch, let alone an opportunity to pray.

Or sin.

At least, not until later.

The women’s club scheduled the festival meeting for five o’clock.

Honor arrived at four-thirty.

My angel sent from Heaven to trap me within a private Hell of pleasure and penance. She knocked softly at the door to my office. I called her inside, and the thick wooden doors closed behind her. The click of the latch echoed in our silence.

We were alone.

What a wicked thrill.

Honor had gained confidence after our kiss, after spending time with me during the last festival meeting. She knew it was possible to acknowledge our desire but deny our needs, except Honor still approached me with caution. She’d trust herself in time.

I sat behind my desk, the L-shaped, cherry wood monstrosity. It was clean and orderly, almost sparse. I took care to stay organized, another aspect of pure discipline that took as much mindful care as my physical weaknesses. I didn’t stand to greet her.

Like any wild creature, I let her come to me.

Bookshelves spanned the room. Honor studied the hardbound texts with a curious gaze.

“These aren’t all Bibles,” she said.

“No.”

“And they aren’t all religious?”

“No.”

Her elegant fingers tickled the spine of a few—Shakespeare, Bronte, Joyce, Austen, Dickens, Twain…Rowling.

“Would you like to borrow one?” I asked. “Idle hands and minds...”

She smiled, those perfectly full lips twisting as she shook her head. “Maybe if I had the time. I have enough coursework to read. Plus, I downloaded a ton of books to my Kindle before it broke. I still need to get a new one...” Her smile faded. “Well, I’ll get it when we have the money.”

I recognized her tone—a shred of optimism that stretched too thin over the bitter realism she tried to hide. I knew enough about her family, more than I felt was right to know given the circumstances and her secrecy on the matter. My heart ached for her.

And yet…a deeper, more possessive and dangerous feeling welled in me.

Protectiveness.

I wanted to return her happiness. I’d shelter her so she wouldn’t need to hide that pain and the problems that forced her to take on multiple jobs after transferring colleges. I wondered if she realized her mother’s name was listed on a variety of our charity programs.

But what could I do? Honor had refused help before, and her pride was as great a sin as lust.

I should’ve asked to help as many times as I could until she accepted it. With any other parishioner, any other time, I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. With her? She’d hit rock bottom before she accepted my offered hand.

I pulled three menus from my drawer and tossed them over my desk.

“Pizza, Chinese, or burgers tonight?” I tipped the scales in favor of the pizza, pushing it towards the end of the desk with an arched eyebrow. “My treat for the volunteers tonight.”

“Pizza.” She took the bait and sat. “And you’re kind to do this.”

“I’m taking care of my flock. If they happen to be sated with pepperoni, all the better.”

She smirked, though her attention still fell beyond me, the menu, the books. She studied the office and distracted herself with the strap of her purse. Her foot nervously kicked the leg of the chair.