A swimming pool and a nightmare.

That’s what my kitchen had turned into in a matter of seconds. I pushed the soaking rug around the base of the faucet, but it didn’t help. The valve spewed what seemed like gallons of water onto my kitchen floor.

“How do you turn this off?” I grumbled, diving into the cabinet underneath my sink, but all I saw were pipes without a valve.

Soaked and discouraged, I stood up and looked around the kitchen, slid in my socks across the floor, then quickly removed all the bowls and containers I could find, placing them underneath the constant fountain. As I switched the dishes from full ones to empty, I rushed around the kitchen looking for an invisible solution when a knock at my door sounded.

I don’t have time for this.

Dejected, I rushed to the front door and opened it without thinking. Father Cameron’s gaze skimmed over my body. What was he so surprised about? He was the one knocking on my door.

“Good morning, Father. I’m sorry, but this isn’t really a good time—”

“You know you’re all wet, Kate.”

“Yeah, and I managed to turn my kitchen into a swimming pool.” I rushed back to the sink, nearly slipping on the tiles, and replaced another full container with an empty one.

“What happened?” Father Cameron must have followed me in. I skidded in front of him to the other side of the kitchen, grabbed a pot, and then rushed back to the sink. “I don’t know. I just turned it on, heard a little crack, and it all decided to flow out.”

“Why didn’t you turn the water off?”

“The knob twists, but it doesn’t do anything.”

“No, I meant the main water valve.”

“I couldn’t find it.”

He passed by me and dove underneath the sink. A moment later, the water stopped flowing.

“Come here.” Father Cameron moved to the side and I joined him at the sink. Squatting, I followed his pointing finger. “There’s a knob just behind this pipe. It’s not easy to see. Twist it up to stop the flow. If that one ever fails, there’s another one outside, by the water meter.”

It wasn’t until I saw his strong hand motion the twist of that I realized we were leaning against one another, shoulder to shoulder, soaked sleeve to a dry one, a sexy warm breath to my uneven exhales. Shivers ran through my body. Was I even breathing?

“I got you wet,” I whispered, lightly turning toward him. He took my hand and guided me to stand up.

“It’s all right.”

Time slowed and I turned around to eliminate the longing I felt when he was near. It didn’t work.

“Thank you. I think I would have destroyed the house if it weren’t for you.”

“Need help cleaning it up? It’ll take you twice as long if you have to clean this place up on your own.” Without asking me again, he opened the pantry door. A set of chess pieces spilled from the top shelf. They were here when I moved in. He cleaned those up and removed a mop and a bucket from within, and then proceeded to swipe through the mess.

And I just couldn’t stop watching him.

“Father Cameron, I can do this.” I reached for the mop, grasping it firmly, and he paused, looking me over again. This time, I felt his gaze snake down my body because it left a trail of heat behind. My nipples pebbled hard under his stare. I would have had to rub a bucket of ice to get the same effect, except ice wouldn’t have turned me on.

“I think you should change before you catch a cold,” he said, still staring.

Self-conscious, I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to cover the shirt clinging to my chest. I didn’t even dare to look in the mirror to see how much of my breasts I could see. But I could definitely feel them.

“If you don’t do it for your sake, then do it for mine,” he added.

“I’ll be right back.” Focused on my bedroom door, I turned around and lost my footing. The sound of something crashing to the floor jolted me backward as Father Cameron dropped the mop. He caught me before I hit the floor, except he didn’t. The momentum of my fall took us both down, and now I was lying on top of him, my back to his chest, and his erection to my ass.

Well, that didn’t take long, did it?

“Ouch,” he moaned in pain.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

I swear, I’d never be forgiven for all the ways in which I had managed to hurt a priest. I was up in a flash, assessing Father’s twisted limbs.

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”

“Of course. You caught me. Here, let me help you.” I reached out but he didn’t take my hand. Now it was he who was all wet.

“I think you better go get changed,” he grumbled.

“But I—”

“Kate, if you know what’s good for you, then you’re going to march into that bedroom, take the wet clothes off, and put on something dry so that I don’t have to look at how perfectly round your breasts are.”

I gasped and watched him open his mouth slowly, then close it again before completely dejected, he lowered his head.

That commanding tone with a hint of displeasure was everything that my body wasn’t used to. It reacted in ways I couldn’t control, all on its own, swelling in some places, lubricating in other.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, Kate.”

“It’s all right. This is my fault anyway. I’ll just go… that way,” I said, pointing to the main hallway.

I quickly rushed into my bedroom where I changed into a fresh pair of undergarments, jeans, and a t-shirt, then went back to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. The water was gone, buckets and containers put away, counter and cabinets wiped, and Father Cameron was sitting at the table with two cups of steaming coffee.

“What are you, Superman?”

He turned around with a smile, and everything seemed to be all right between us again.

“Thanks. My mother used to make us clean the floors all the time. I hope you don’t mind I made coffee.”

“Thank you. I should call her and thank her that she’s taught you so well.”

A spark of amusement I couldn’t understand flashed across his face.

“Here.” I handed him a dry t-shirt and my sweat pants. “They’re the biggest ones I could find. You can go to my bedroom. Or the bathroom. It’s up to you, really.”

“Kate, what I said earlier… I’m sorry. When I’m around you, I find my faith being tested more often than it should be. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“It’s all right. I mean, you said that you’re human. And being human is being a man. So you’re fine. We’re fine.”

My heart drummed in my chest, forcing me to take quicker breaths. Talking to Father Cameron about being human and him being a man always gave me the wrong ideas.

“Oh, I’m definitely human. I hope you won’t hold my shortcomings against me.” He then held the shirt in front of him, measuring it with his gaze. “I’m not sure if this will work, but I’ll try. Much better than walking into a church soaked.”

I smiled. As soon as Father Cameron disappeared into the bathroom, I pulled out a chair, and sat down. An image of him changing floated through my mind, and intrigued with the picture my mind conjured, I took a sip of my coffee. It was perfect. Just the way I liked it.

A hot priest just cleaned my kitchen.

There was nothing normal about this. I was a temptress who pranced around in a soaked shirt in front of a priest. Poor Father Cameron had to keep his hidden urges intact around me? Something about the thought made me feel even hotter. But he was human, and so was I. A very sexy human with a good heart. They just didn’t make men that way anymore. Was I being tested? Because if I was, then I was probably failing miserably, and I wasn’t any closer to finding Jack. When I called back home to the precinct, no one asked any questions about my leave, which also meant that Cortez wasn’t on my tail just yet.

When Father Cameron returned, wearing my t-shirt and jogging pants, which by the way reached only down to his calves and looked like capris, I almost spit out my coffee.

“That bad, eh?” he asked.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just all so… tight.” I scanned him over, appreciating every single limitation of my clothing so much more. That was when I realized that he wasn’t wearing any underwear and every enticing curve below his belt was outlined to perfection.

“No, you look fine.”

Very fine.

I would burn in hell for this.

“Besides, there aren’t too many people in church on a Saturday, right?”

“Right.”

He stood there, holding his dripping clothes in front of him. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that I realized I’d been staring without shame. I quickly moved past him, brushing against his arm, heading straight for the drawer with the plastic bags.

“You should put these in here or you’ll drip all over the church floor.”

“Thank you. I’ll order a new valve for your sink.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I can do it.”

“Do you know what kind?”

“No.”

He laughed before opening the front door. “I’ll get it, Kate.”

“I’m going to have to find a way to thank you for all your help.”

Before he turned, I thought I heard a low growl. It sounded more like an invitation than a warning.

“I’ll pay for it, at least,” I said.

“No, this is church property. You’re a tenant here. A tenant who’s been wronged when her kitchen sink became possessed.”

Was he trying to make a joke? I chuckled nonetheless. It was… cute.

“Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome. Feel free to use the kitchen in the rectory in the meantime.”

“Thank you. Did you need anything from me?”

“I just wanted to ask you to keep a closer eye on Father John. Not that you wouldn’t, but he’s been feeling quite ill lately.”

“For a man in his sixties, he sure looks like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders.”

“I don’t want to alarm you, but I have a feeling he’s reaching the end of his days. The diocese will be forced to find a new rector for the parish soon.”

“But he’s so young. And we have you.”

He looked a little confused before replying, “I won’t always be here, Kate. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do, but you could take over the mass and everything. We don’t really need another rector.”

“You will need another one.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not up to me. I can’t do Father John’s job.”

I couldn’t imagine the parish without Father Cameron. Over the past two months he had acclimated to Pace so well that it felt like he’d always been here.

“You’re doing a wonderful job, though. You’re always polite and non-judgmental.”

Would he mention my confessions? He’d listened to them a couple of times, but never judged me, not even when I told him that I’d masturbated.

“Once you’ve heard one sin, you’ve heard them all.” He turned around and I followed him to the front door.

“But you’re supposed to listen to them individually.”

“I didn’t say I don’t.”

I felt my cheeks heat. If he did hear them, then he was truly a wonderful priest because he’d never made me feel inadequate.

“Kate, everyone sins. Including me.”

“I bet you don’t sin as much as I do.”

Oh, that did not come out the way it was supposed to and I didn’t mean to use such sultry voice either. What was wrong with me?

He thought for a moment before saying, “I’m not going to bet on our sins, but you’d be surprised what goes on in my head.”

Now each time I saw him, I’d be wondering about his thoughts and I’d pretend that they were all naughty. Father Cameron became more enticing with each passing day. There was unspoken danger about him, but when he wore that collar around his neck I felt safe.

“Right, well, I’ll pray that Father John gets better, then.”

“Of course. And even if he doesn’t, I’m sure your prayers are heard. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

“Thank you, Father Cameron.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Father Cameron?”

“Yes?”

“Is there anything else you needed?”

He searched through his memory for a moment. “I was wondering if you know where Father John stores parishioner information.”

“Oh, there are cabinets in the third room past the office.”

“No, I’ve gone through those. I’m talking about older documents, ones that go back to the early nineteen hundreds.”

“I didn’t think our church was that old.”

“It is. The settlement in these areas was mainly Christians from the south.”

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” I asked. “Because I’m pretty sure there are old records in the tower.”

“The tower?”

“The church tower. Father John has the keys. I can get them for you.”

“That would be great. I should change before Mrs. Windsor comes for her afternoon prayer. She may go into labor if she sees me dressed like this.”

I could only imagine that as one orgasmic birth. She was one of the other five pregnant woman in Pace who could barely keep her belly upright and was past due. I closed the door behind Father John and went back to the kitchen. Looking at that broken faucet, which moments ago was still leaking water, and swept floors, I realized I’d forgotten how nice it was to have a man around the house. Since Mom’s heart diagnosis, I hadn’t found much time to date, and after the third jerk who didn’t understand what family meant, I gave up. Father Cameron was a family man, though, both figuratively and literally. Though he spoke little about his, when he did, it was from the heart. The entire parish looked up to him as if to a father figure. I bet he didn’t even know how much he meant to these people.

I quickly put the kettle on and made honey lemon tea. I grabbed my phone, stuffed it into my jeans pocket, and went to seek out Father John. When I knocked on his door with a fresh cup of tea, he was hawking up another lungful.

“Father John? I brought you some tea.”

The room was dark. Curtains had been pulled to cover the bright sun coming in from the outside. I wasn’t sure how Father John was planning on leading this evening’s mass, but he always managed, and he never let Father Cameron take the lead. Come to think of it, I’d never heard Father Cameron lead mass, not even once, and I attended every Sunday.

“Thank you, dear. You know, you remind me so much of Joanna. She used to bring me tea just like this.”

“I don’t know any Joanna in town.”

“She used to work here and live in the parish house. Then one day, she left and I never saw her again.”

“Why did she leave?”

“Pace used to be what a priest would call a living hell. Violent criminals, murders, and death.”

“This small town?”

He nodded. “Drugs, prostitution, money smuggling, tormenting our citizens…” He sighed.

I still couldn’t picture the image he was painting. It was impossible to think of Pace as anything close to violent. But then again, Father John was old, and his memory became more like Swiss cheese every week. I didn’t like the way he looked. I didn’t like seeing him this weak. “Father John, tell me what happened.”

“One day, they just left.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, there might have been a chess game involved,” he chuckled. “And a lot of God’s grace.”

“What do you mean?”

But he waved his hand in dismissal. As Father John squeezed a few more coughs into a tissue, I looked around his room. He liked to keep photographs of him and his parishioners in his office, but I hadn’t realized that he had them in his room as well. I was about to leave when my gaze caught a specific photograph. I picked it up and off the mantle and brought it closer to my face.

Is that my mother?

The image was old, in predominantly sepia colors, but the resemblance was uncanny. She stood in front of what appeared to be a chapel. I didn’t have any family artifacts left over from my mother’s younger years. In fact, my mother had never kept anything from her childhood. Even if she had, I wouldn’t have known; after the house fire, we’d lost everything

I picked up the photograph and turned it over on the other side. I held my breath as I read the meticulous handwriting that was identical to my mother’s.

Learn from yesterday, live for today, and hope for tomorrow.

“Father John, where did you get this picture?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s my Joanna I told you about.”

If I had any doubts about why my mother had sent me here before, they all disappeared. She had a reason. His name was Jack, and I had to find him no matter what.