Sweetest Sin(66)
I plunked onto the bench, breathing in the cool night air. His footsteps carried behind me. I recognized them, and that only made the guilt worse.
I didn’t look at him.
“Do you think Mary ever embarrassed Jesus?” I asked. “One of those mom moments?”
Father Raphael hadn’t expected the question, but he thought only for a few silent seconds.
“I think everyone has mom moments.”
“Some are worse than others.”
“Do you remember the story of when he was a boy, and he was lost for three days in Jerusalem? Mary found him sitting in the temple with the other teachers.”
“Yeah.”
“It wasn’t written, but…” He smirked. “I bet she had some choice words for him in front of the rabbis before she dragged him away.”
I shrugged. This was a different humiliation. Not the imagined scoldings of a worried mother, but the pained revelation of a hurt daughter.
Mom wouldn’t give up her sobriety.
Would she?
“Honor, what happened?”
I didn’t look up as he approached. “Do you think we’re being punished?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I deserve it.”
“Do you?” His voice lowered to the wonderful and soothing growl I expected from him.
The night pressed close around us, darker yet with the sway of his black robes. I feared looking at him, wondering if I would see the proud priest cloaked in humility or the sensual man, naked and fierce, tattooed with his faith.
“I won’t confess to anything, Father Rafe.”
“What happened…what I did to you, it was…”
I expected him to feel this way. “Don’t mourn for my virtue. And don’t try to save me.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t pretend that night didn’t happen.”
His temper was short tonight. He baited me, poised on the edge of his own patience. I turned, facing the same man who had invaded my dreams to comfort me in the time we spent apart.
“Why won’t you let me help you?” He stepped closer. I stood to retreat into the shadows as he loomed over me. “I took your virginity. I’ve left you in a state of sin. I…” He lowered his voice. “I came inside you, Honor.”
“Like a proper Catholic.”
“I’m serious.”
“And I’ll confess to being a little more modern than the teachings.” This was the awkward conversation, but it was good to have. “I’ve been on birth control since high school. It was meant to help regulate my cycle. We didn’t see a problem with it.”
“And the sins mount.” He sighed. “Though this one is prudent.”
“Sorry.”
“Honor, I would apologize to Christ for everything I did, but first I must apologize to you.”
“Why, Father?”
He breathed deep, through gritted teeth. “I’ve ruined you.”
“Again…I’m more modern than that. My virginity was mine to give, not a man’s to take.”
“Wouldn’t you have preferred to save it? To offer it to someone who could love you, marry you, give you all that you desire?”
He wouldn’t hear my honest answer.
“Instead I seized it. I desecrated it in lust.” His voice lowered. “And if you hadn’t left when you did, I’d have done it again.”
Silence.
I stared at him, trembling. He confessed under the moon, the stars, before me and God and the whole of creation. My voice was a whisper, its own secret and willing admission.
“Father…now that we’ve been together…can you imagine letting me go?”
Silence. He didn’t answer. My soul spoke for us both.
“Can you imagine me with another man? Someone who would hold me as you have? Spoken those words? Kissed me like you did?”
He turned from me. There was my answer.
“Father…can you imagine another man ever taking me as you did?”
I expected his hands, his kiss, the fierce closeness of his grip as he dragged me against his body. Father Raphael kissed me, his tongue stealing my words and transforming the horrible, ugly truths I might have uttered into a soft mew of desire.
“No,” he hissed. “I can’t imagine it. I won’t. It pains me, my angel. Taking you was a sin, but keeping you will be my final damnation.”
“Then you understand why I can’t confess.” I clung to him, meeting the fire of his gaze and expecting brimstone. I saw only haloes of perfect light, etching him in quiet reflection. “The only sin from that night is regretting anything we did.”
His kiss overwhelmed me once more, and a shared shudder rolled through our bodies. It demanded forgiveness, a peace, a sanctity only we could give each other.