Sweetest Sin(92)
“No, there’s one last thing I want you to do.”
She sensed it from me, and like a raging animal, her hackles rose. Her beautiful face twisted in pain and she stepped away from me.
“Don’t you dare, Father.”
“I want you to confess to me.”
“No.”
She was too stubborn, to hurt to see why this needed to be done. “Why do you fight me on this?”
“Why take away what precious memories I have?”
“Why tarnish your soul with my mistakes?”
“You have your sweetest sins.” She spat the word. “Leave me my beautiful mistakes.”
“You trusted me with your body. Your innocence.” I extended a hand, calling her over. She refused. “Trust me now with this.”
“It hurts.”
“Yes. It hurts us both. But I will not leave you in a state of—”
Her voice rose. “No. Just stop. Stop making what happened something perverted and terrible. Don’t make me hate what we did because I don’t, Father. I won’t repent a single minute of it. Not your touch. Not your kiss. Not the way it felt with you inside me.”
“You’re in mortal sin, Honor.”
“Then let me sin.”
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not if I could help her.
Honor stormed before me, outraged and beautiful and hating me with such a furious passion.
“You once said not confess our sins. We are supposed to uncover the reason we were led into darkness.”
Honor knelt before me. I stiffened.
“This is my confession, Father.”
“Honor.”
“Bless me, Father. I’ve never been honest with you. My last confession was so long ago, so broken and defiled, I don’t remember if I was even absolved.”
“Stop this.”
“For the past summer, I’ve had impure thoughts—I can’t count the number. I’ve engaged in sexual activity. Kisses. Touches more times than I can count. I’ve had sex with a man three times, and each encounter was greater and more meaningful than the last.”
I wouldn’t hear this. “Honor—”
She spoke over me, her words twisted in fury. “I don’t know why I did these things. At first I thought it was a test of faith. I believed it was temptation that darkened my desire and forced me to commit acts that I never imagined. But now…I understand.”
I tried to stand. Honor pushed me back into the pew.
“Bless me, Father. I gave myself to a kind, honest, and moral man. A man who was in pain. A man who lived a life of self-inflicted punishment for the sins done to him as a child.”
This was a mockery of everything in my soul, and yet I stared into her eyes and hated that I hung on her every word.
“I surrendered myself to this man,” she said. “And he taught me more about my faith and my body and the dangers of lust than anything I had ever read in scripture. Through him, I found the strength to confront my mother, to take a role of responsibility in the church, and to give of myself to others so that they might be healed.”
I clenched my jaw. “Are you done?”
“No. Because I have one final confession, Father.”
And it would damn us both.
Honor held my gaze. “Over the past three months, I thought I suffered from the sin of lust, but I was wrong. I felt something more. Something holy and pure. Something I’ve never experienced for any man in my life. My heart had a revelation. You might try to take this joy from me, but I will fight you for it until the day I die. It can’t possibly be a sin!”
I said nothing, waiting as she took a breath wracked with rage and fear and such sorrow I pleaded for Mary to take some of her pain.
“Do I confess to this? Yes.” Honor whispered. “Did we touch? Yes. Did we kiss? Yes. Did we have sex? Yes.”
Enough of this. I could tolerate her temper, but I couldn’t endure her tears.
“It’s time to pray, Honor,” I said. “You’re angry now. Don’t blaspheme any more than we already have.”
I stood, but Honor was already retreating to the door, brushing away tears.
“I won’t repent for those sins,” she said.
“They’re mortal, Honor.”
“And I cherish them.” She ripped my rosaries from her neck and threw them at my feet. “Falling in love with you is my only regret.”
Chapter Twenty-Four – Honor
The festival descended upon St. Cecilia’s. The parish was meant to celebrate the end of summer. Instead, we mourned the departure of Father Raphael.
Some more than others.
The Battle of the Choirs drew the crowds for the opening night’s events. Other parishes and neighboring churches sent their best for a “friendly” battle of song, but the congregation came to support our nine-person troupe. Suddenly, St. Cecilia’s was desperate for the win.