Men lived for two things. Sex and food. I could indulge in one of those pleasures.
Mondays were casserole day. The women’s group often prepared meals for me for the week. I owed a debt of gratitude to anyone in the congregation who brought me lasagna, a pot of chicken soup, or spaghetti. My responsibilities didn’t leave me a lot of time to cook. Even if it had, it wasn’t like I’d stayed at home long enough to learn family recipes from my mother.
Most of the women visited around dinner time, competing with the others to bake the freshest bread, create the most elaborate casserole, or share the most secret of recipes. I didn’t mind having my meals organized for the week.
Especially since the women’s group volunteered their newest baker to bring me dessert.
Honor had promised me something…sweet.
She arrived late. Ten o’clock. She rapped a soft beat against my back door. The rectory was nothing more than a two-bedroom house on the property next to the church, but Honor treated it as though it were the gateway to hell.
Or Heaven?
Did she still fear she’d lose that grace…or had she already mourned its destruction?
She wore a light dress, something casual and pink, perfect for the close summer weather that layered the parish in a constant, simmering heat. She clutched a cake carrier in her hands, brandishing it before her as if the plastic case would protect her against that threatening sweetness.
“Evening, Father Rafe,” she whispered.
“Honor.”
She squirmed under my quiet stare.
Why did I like that so much?
“I brought you something.” She licked her lip. Unintentionally? “Dessert. The women’s group said you had a sweet tooth.”
“Guilty as charged.” For this sin and many others. “Do you want to come in?”
“I don’t know if that’s…” She arched an eyebrow. It only widened her dark eyes, lost in naïve innocence. She stared at the buttons of my cassock. I hadn’t loosened the collar. It made the invitation safer. “Is it appropriate?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because…I’m…”
“A woman?”
“Yes.”
“Or because you’re my angel?”
She nervously sighed. “That’s probably it.”
I wished I hadn’t smiled. My voice slithered and coiled. Was I no better than a serpent? I should have wound myself within a fruit tree instead of guiding Honor into my home.
“Do you not trust me?” I asked.
Her heels clicked against the wooden floors of the kitchen. She stepped inside, spun, and cornered herself against the counter and cabinets.
“I trust you, Father.”
“Do you trust yourself?”
Another glance over my silent home. Empty. Isolated. No one would see what happened tonight, no one to judge the words we’d speak, the glances we’d share, or the sins we might commit.
“I baked you a cake,” she said. “I thought about an apple pie, but…you know the connotation.”
“What connotation?”
At least she recognized when I teased her now, but she wasn’t brave enough to chastise me yet. Maybe not ever.
“You know? Apples? Tree of knowledge?” She set the cake on the counter. “If I brought you something with apples, somehow we’d defy God, get evicted from our homes, have to toil the earth, realize we were naked…” Her eyes pinched closed. She nearly crossed herself. “I mean…I think that was part of the story.”
“It was,” I said. “Adam and Eve ate from the tree and recognized their nudity.”
“See. Cake was a better idea. We don’t need any more of that temptation.”
On the contrary. Honor wiggled, nervous and uncertain.
If any innocent person needed to confront her fears, it was my angel, trapped within mortal sins and her own dark thoughts.
I would lead her to that temptation. Teeter her over the brink. Then I’d bring her back.
I’d save her.
My pride should have shamed me, should have sent me to prayer to beg forgiveness for my own arrogance. Instead, I pulled a bottle of red wine from the refrigerator.
Honor shook her head. “I really should be going, Father.”
“One glass of wine. While we share the cake?”
She twisted a finger in her hair, the curls bouncing over her shoulders and against the swell of her chest. Her breathing quickened. I longed to hear even a single gasp.
“Are you testing me, Father Rafe?”
“Testing you in what way?”
“Any way. Every way. The more time I spend with you, the more often I think your lessons are meant to weaken me.”
“Just the opposite. I intend to strengthen you. Teach you the humility of virtue.”