Suni snuck into the church, feeling like an intruder. In its emptiness, it seemed bigger than usual and her footsteps echoed through the large chamber. Outside, the world rushed by … people on their way to work, dropping their kids off at school or rushing to get that cup of coffee, but inside time stood still and the thick walls drowned out most of the noise.
She knelt in front of the cross, made the sign, slipped into a pew, and knelt on the padded prayer bench, running the rosary through her fingers, not praying but enjoying the clickety-clack sound of the beads, getting lost in her thoughts. She felt a slight tuck of guilt – she should have been praying but found it impossible. She just wanted to escape from the world. Needed the quiet. Maybe if she sat here long enough and wished hard enough, time would stop and she wouldn’t have to face this day.
She was so lost in her thoughts, remembering the woman who had raised her, that she didn’t notice the priest until he cleared his throat. “Suni?” he asked in a deep, husky voice.
She jerked in surprise and dropped her rosary on the pew in front of her. It fell on the wooden bench with a loud clatter.
“I’m sorry,” the priest said. He had a gentle Irish accent, just barely detectable in the way he rolled his R’s. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You’re a bit early --”
“I know,” she said without looking up.
Too afraid to look at the priest -- looking at him would be like staring into the sun -- she hung over the back of the bench, fishing for her rosary.
“Were you … are you here for the funeral?”
“Yes,” Suni said, finally found her rosary, and sat back down, staring at the beads between her fingers.
Without asking, the priest sat next to her. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Great, now I’ll have to look at him, she thought. Slowly, as if the movement hurt her, she turned. “Thank you, Father,” she said, hoping he’d mistake the croak in her voice for grief, then dropped her eyes back to the rosary.
He folded his long, slender fingers in front of him. The sleeve of his shirt pulled up, revealing the bottom end of a tattoo on his left wrist -- the very tattoo that had many a female parishioner in a titter. “While you’re here … did you want confession … or … do you maybe want to talk about something?” His gentle voice echoed through the church.
“No. I just wanted to pray,” she said, and finally looked up again. As always taken aback by the sharp contrast between the priest’s soothing, melodic baritone, and his almost angelic features. Long, thick eyelashes and an unruly mob of soft, slightly too long, brown curls added to his beatific appearance. The contrast between his deep, gravelly voice and boyish face was unnerving. “Is that okay with you, Father?” she heard the bite in her words, but it was too late to take them back. “I’m sorry,” she added in a whisper.
He shifted his long frame so he could look at her, light green eyes staring straight into her soul. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk? I know you’ll only give confession to Father Joshua, but I assure you, I take the seal of confession as seriously as any other priest.”
Lusting after a priest. In church! I’ll never be done giving penitence. A lump formed in her throat, and she squirmed under his piercing gaze. She pushed the thoughts away, remembering Sister Antonia’s endless sermons and punishments to correct her “wicked female ways,” as the good sister put it when she was a child.
She wanted to sit here and just listen to him talk for hours, but the sun had a tendency to burn after a while. “I’m really okay, Father.” She looked away, opting to stare at the ambo instead. He was too beautiful, and if she kept looking at him much longer, she’d burst into flames. She tried to keep her voice even, “Will Father Joshua deliver the requiem?”
“Father Joshua is on retreat, which you would have known if you were in church on Sunday,” he clucked his tongue reproachfully.
“I … I …” Suni huffed, offended. She wasn’t the one who had suddenly re-found her faith when the handsome, new priest joined their church.
Week after week, at every mass and event, there they were -- every single and married woman from miles around. And there was Suni. Plain, old, reliable Suni, quietly going about the business of setting up the raffle tables, or taking in clothing donations, going unnoticed while the beautiful crowd clucked over Father Adrian who apparently couldn’t get enough of the adoration. She bit back the bitterness and anger. If she kept this up, she would need confession, and she really didn’t want to tell her deepest, darkest secrets to this man.
“Relax. It’s a joke. Were you visiting Sister Antonia?”
“No … I just …” She shrugged. She couldn’t tell him that she just couldn’t sit through another service surrounded by those vapid, shining, adoring faces. She needed a break from them. The priest’s gaggle of fans. She curled her hands so tightly around the rosary that her knuckles turned white. Anger, resentment, lust, jealousy. She wondered what penitence Father Joshua would give her when he returned and she could finally confess all these uncomfortable emotions.
“I had the honour of delivering Sister Antonia’s last rites.” The priest hesitated as if weighing his words. “She went peacefully.”
“Did she? What a shame,” Suni said and turned to look the priest full in the face. As unnerving as his presence was, she challenged him to say something, but if he was surprised by her words, he didn’t show it.
“Are you sure you don’t want confession?” he asked instead, his eyes and voice gentle.
“What good would confession do me now?” she asked.
The priest raised one eyebrow. “You are very angry. I mistook … forgive me, I mistook your anger for sorrow.”
“You couldn’t know. She was not a good woman.”
“Hmm. I know … she was awful.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” The priest rose from his seat. His height was impressive. “I have to finish preparing. I will be here … if you want to talk.”
She stared up at Father Adrian, trying her best to keep her mouth from hanging open. This was just unfair. This temptation right in front of her. In church.
He turned his back on her. She heard him exhale loudly before he turned back to face her. She flinched at the raw sympathy in his eyes. “If you … people think we priests … that we don’t understand. That our lives are too sheltered. I do understand … I’ve lived a bit too, you know. I know about living in a children’s home. I especially know a thing or two about growing up in a Catholic home. So … I do understand.” Unable to speak, she just shook her head at him. He rapped his knuckles on the bench. “Okay then,” he said and walked away without looking back this time.
Suni didn’t move from her spot and for a while, time seemed to stand still -- until the undertakers showed up with the coffin holding Sister Antonia. She fixed her eyes on the sister’s casket while the church slowly filled up around her. Her throat tightened at the thought of the larger-than-life woman confined to such a small space. But she refused to cry for her.
Right on the hour, the altar boys entered the church, followed by Father Adrian in his violet vestments. What little sadness she felt fled, and her heart jumped in her throat. She was sure if his adoring crowd were in the church, she’d hear an appreciative sigh ripple through them. She was no better though -- she was just better at keeping her appreciation hidden. She cited, he’s a priest, he’s a priest, he’s a priest over and over in her head.
His voice washed over her, the soothing tones warming her from the inside out like hot chocolate on a cold day. A few times, he caught her eye, and once she could have sworn he gave her a sly wink and a smile, but when it didn’t happen again, she decided that it was just her imagination -- wishful thinking even. She didn’t hear a word he said.
When Father Adrian announced communion, she stayed seated along with the non-Catholics. Taking mass during Sister Antonia’s funeral felt wrong to her. Being here at all felt like the worst kind of hypocrisy, but the woman did raise her, as she raised many others in the church today, and seeing her off was the least she could do. Father Adrian shot her a look as the last of the faithful took the sacrament, a small frown between his eyes. She gently shook her head. He gave her a somewhat confused look, turned his back on her, and announced that the congregation should rise and follow the casket to the graveyard at the back of the church.
At the cemetery, Suni stood off to the side, watching the mourners. No one cried. She expected some of them to break into cheers or joyful singing, but the procession was solemn enough. Father Adrian’s face was passive as he delivered Sister Antonia to the earth, and he didn’t register a hint of surprise when the mourners all but fled the graveside.
She stayed, even as the last of the people left and only the gravediggers remained, filling the grave, and casting curious looks her way. A prickle of tears threatened. But were they tears of joy at seeing the loathsome woman under a mountain of dirt, or was it sadness? She didn’t know and found that she didn’t care much.
The workers finished and walked past her, back towards the church, giving her strange looks, but she ignored them. She really had to go back to the reception, see if any of her old friends were there, but she couldn’t move -- just kept staring at that fresh mount of dirt. Why did it affect her so much? She had no love for the old nun, but by all the saints, she did a fantastic job at teaching them good old Catholic guilt. Maybe it was that guilt which kept her rooted in the cemetery.
The day grew colder and the shadows longer. Her legs went from painful to numb. Her back ached and her bladder throbbed but still, she didn’t move. The wind picked up. A cold breeze tucked at her skirt and blew through her hair. Icy fingers stroked her neck, and still she couldn’t stop staring at the grave.
“Suni?” Father Adrian’s familiar voice asked. “I thought you …. Why are you still here?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a croaky voice, realising for the first time how dry her throat was. She glanced at the priest, who wore a thick windbreaker and beanie, his curls peeking out under the rim, his high cheekbones accentuated by the rosy glow of his skin. Her breath caught, and her heart started galloping. He’s a priest, she reminded herself and looked away.
“You must be freezing … and starving. Come on, let’s get inside.”
She didn’t budge.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, she heard as he unzipped his windbreaker, and flinched in surprise when he draped it over her shoulders. For a moment, the touch of his hands set her skin alight, then they were gone, leaving her colder than before. She looked up at Father Adrian, who stood with his arms folded over his chest, the thin, black shirt hardly a defence against the creeping freeze. She tried to hand the jacket back to him, but he shook his head and took a step backwards. “I’ll stand here until you’re ready -- even if it means freezing to death,” he said through something that was somewhere between a grimace and a smile. “But if I do die, it’s on you.” This time he did give a humourless chuckle.
“Well,” she tried to smile back at him, “we can’t have that. What will we do without our priest?”
“What indeed.”
Suni wrapped the absurdly long jacket around her shoulders, marvelling at how it almost reached to the middle of her thighs. It didn’t look that long on the priest. She inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of his scent -- something oaky with just the faintest hint of musk -- and took a step towards him. Her numb feet and legs came to life. Sharp needles shot through her soles and up into her calves. She gasped, and for a crazy moment thought she’d fall onto a nearby grave. She braced herself on the headstone of one Father Augustus, while Father Adrian stepped towards her. Suni held her hand up to stop him. “I’ll be fine in a minute,” she said through gritted teeth, trying not to think of the sharp little needles that threatened to knock the foundation out from under her. “Just need to get the blood flowing.”
The cold wind wailed around the corner of an impressive mausoleum, lifting her long auburn hair away from her shoulders. Freezing air licked down her neck and spine, and she slipped her arms inside the jacket, pulling the sleeves up to her wrists, before letting go of Father Augustus’s last resting place, and venturing another step.
The wind picked up, and the temperature started dropping at an alarming rate. Standing outside all day looked so stupid now, and Suni silently cursed her foolishness. Father Adrian had a look of mild concern on his face, but was seemingly untouched by the cold, even though his lips were turning a tinge of blue. “I really think we need to hurry up and get inside,” he yelled.
The wind howled through the graveyard, trying to rip the large trees from the earth, and bending the saplings so low that they were almost level with the ground.
Suni turned in the direction of the church, but Father Adrian grabbed her hand, intertwining his icy fingers with hers, and dragged her in the opposite direction. Suni didn’t have time to think. She allowed the priest to lead her, dropping her head to shield it from the flying debris of sand, leaves, sticks, and half-dead graveyard flowers.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the priest banged a door open and slammed it shut behind them. “Fuuuuuck!” he yelled.
Suni recoiled in surprise. “Father?”
“Cold,” he said through chattering teeth. He cupped his hands before his mouth and blew loudly, then briskly rubbed his upper arms. “I’ll start a fire.” Suni looked around for the fireplace, which was difficult to find in the semi-dark of the room. “Why don’t you go wash up while I do this?”
“Okay,” Suni whispered. She felt intensely uncomfortable. She shouldn’t be here. Not alone. Not with him. “Where?”
The priest dropped a log in the fireplace, where it landed with a loud thunk. He looked up, his face completely hidden in the shadows, and suddenly she felt more at ease. It was easier to talk to him now that she couldn’t make out those perfectly sculpted cheekbones.
He swiped his hand to the right, indicating a closed door on the opposite side of the cavernous room. “The wiring is ancient, so the lights don’t always work.” Was it her imagination, or did she hear barely disguised amusement in his voice? “So don’t fall over anything, please. What will I tell the congregation if I have to phone an ambulance to come pick up an injured young lady from the rectory? And a single, pretty one at that.”
A blush crept up her neck -- she could practically feel her cheeks glowing. Pretty? Me? No, he is just being kind, she decided.
The priest turned back to the fireplace, piling more logs on the one he had already dropped on the grate, apparently done with her for the time being.
Above them, thunder rumbled softly and for a moment lightning lit up the room. She had just enough time to make out the rickety old furniture and ratty rug covering the middle of the oak floor, before everything went dark again. Careful not to bump against the sparse furnishings, she slowly made her way out of the room, wondering why the priest didn’t just switch on a light so she could see where she was going.
The hallway was much colder than she expected. It hit her like a fist between the eyes and temporarily robbed her of breath. Gasping lightly, and shivering madly, she stepped into darkness so thick she could feel it. She had never liked the dark. One of Sister Antonia’s favourite punishments was locking her in a dark closet, forcing her to stand in the pitch black for hours on end.
Taking a deep breath, she walked down a hallway so long that she thought it would never end. It reminded her of the endless corridors of the boarding school where she spent most of her childhood. Heart pounding, and feeling foolish at the same time, she traced the wall with her fingers, hoping they’d find a light switch. Twice, she came across other doors, her fingers lightly running over the frames and slightly warmer wood, before finding the cold wall again. She stopped. How long could this hallway possibly go on?
She considered turning back to retrace her steps when she heard a click, a strange fizzing sound, and then a soft yellow light dispelled most of the dark. Relieved, she turned around. Adrian stood on the other side of the hallway, long legs spread apart, arms folded across his chest. “You missed it by about half a mile.”
“Yeah,” she felt that familiar weakness creeping over her at the sight of the priest, “it’s a big house.”
“Hmm. Once upon a time a whole gaggle of priests lived here, but with the congregation getting smaller by the year,” the priest shrugged, “well, it’s just Father Joshua and me now.”
Suni nodded but thought that at the rate women were returning to the church, they might have to add a third priest soon. Who knew it would take one drop-dead gorgeous priest to get people back in the church? Without realising it, she grinned.
“Bathroom’s over here,” Adrian said, interrupting her thoughts. He took two massive strides forward, opened a door and flicked on the light, which unlike the light in the hallway, was starkly white. “Missus Quinn was here today. It should be clean.”
“Missus Quinn? She’s your housekeeper?” Suni knew Missus Quinn all too well, and last time she heard, the elderly lady wasn’t cleaning up after the parish priests.
“No, not really … she just insists on coming in and cleaning up after us. It pisses the nuns off no end, but what can you do? I think she has a thing for Father Joshua.”
She has a thing for you, Suni thought and walked over to join the priest. “Sure,” she said instead. “It happens.”
Something on the priest’s face changed from amusement to something darker, and he dropped his eyes to the floor. Did he transgress with one of his groupies? She wondered. “Indeed. Will you be alright?” he asked. “I can wait out here.”
“I’ll be fine, Father.”
“Call me Adrian,” he said, his face just inches away from hers.
“Why?”
The sparkle of mischief was back in his eyes. “I just want to hear what my name sounds like when you say it.”
Suni’s heart jumped into her throat, and her ears started buzzing. “Father …”
Devils danced in his green eyes, and a mischievous little grin played around the corners of his mouth. Her heart dropped from her throat to her stomach, and she had a hard time controlling her trembling.
He chuckled and swiped a massive hand towards the open door. “Go ahead.” But he didn’t move. The butterflies in her stomach turned to a hurricane, yet she itched to smack the smirk off his face. He reached out and moved a curl from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. The light, unexpected touch sent sparks through her body, set her skin alight. “You intrigue me,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open, but before she could think of anything to say, Adrian turned on his heels and marched off.
Suni stared after him, fists clenched, unable to move. She half expected him to turn back and see her standing there like a mouth-breathing Neanderthal, but he disappeared through the door that led to the living room.
She waited for her breathing to calm, and the hurricane to still before she went into the bathroom.
She walked over to the basin, gripping the sides of the white porcelain, staring at her face in the mirror, the large hazel eyes staring back at her. What did he see in her? Did it matter anyway? He was a priest – and even though he seemed to enjoy teasing her, it didn’t mean that he was about to break his vows for her. It would be unwise to even entertain such thoughts, and join the ranks of the insipid, adoring crowd.
She took her time and lingered as long as she could. For some reason, she feared going back and facing the priest, but eventually she had to leave the relative safety of the bathroom.
When she finally returned to the living room, a good fire crackled loudly, bathing the vast room in a soft orange glow, and taking the worst of the cold bite out of the air. Adrian stood in front of the fire, his slim frame perfectly edged against the flickering light.
As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned around -- unhurried, almost lazy. With the fire to his back, she couldn’t make out his expression, and he hadn’t bothered switching on any lights.
“You must be freezing.” His voice was barely audible above the loud crackle. “Come here … come stand by the fire.”
Her legs screamed as she took a step towards Adrian. Pins and needles stabbed at her muscles, sending tiny shockwaves of sheer agony up and down her back. Something droned inside her head, and the room started spinning before it all went black.
Suni tried to open her eyes, but they refused to cooperate. She lay on something soft but unyielding, and all she wanted to do was turn around and go back to sleep, but her body ached, her throat burned, and pangs of hunger tucked at her stomach. Above her, a storm raged. Thunder roared, the wind howled, lightning cracked -- a fierce symphony of nature.
Where am I? She wondered. Ah, damn -- the priest. It was just a fleeting thought, but enough to make her eyes fly open. She stared up at an intricately painted ceiling. Probably one of the most disturbing things she had ever seen. Who’d think to create scenes from the nine circles of hell, and paint them on the roof as if the rectory was the Sistine Chapel?
“I know,” the priest said from somewhere indeterminable. “Father Joshua said it was like that when he moved in. He finds it comforting.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her face. “What happened?”
“Well,” to her left, something creaked, “I think you fainted, and then you just went straight to sleep.”
She kept her hands over her face. “Oh gosh … I’m sorry.” A horrifying thought struck her. “How long have I --”
“Just a few hours. Don’t worry, it’s not even ten yet,” he said soothingly. “Besides, no one knows you’re here, and for now at least no one will … catch us together. Not tonight. Not while that storm’s doing its thing.”
She was on the floor in the living room, lying on a very thick, luxuriously soft blanket. The priest had taken off his borrowed jacket and draped it over her legs. She pressed her hands into the softness under her rump and pushed herself into a sitting position.
Adrian appeared out of nowhere and crouched by her side, putting an arm around her shoulders as if she was a small child. She let him -- for the time being at least. He felt oddly familiar and comforting.
He dangled a bottle of water in front of her. “Drink. You are probably dehydrated.”
Wordlessly, she accepted the bottle and downed it in a few greedy gulps. The cool liquid eased the furnace that raged in her throat. The priest watched her, unmoving, his arm still around her shoulders, hand clamped on her upper arm.
But the water cleared her head, and a small amount of embarrassment started to creep in. This wasn’t right. She had to leave. Now. Before she said or did something she’d regret.
The empty bottle disappeared from her hand, but she barely registered. “Better?” he asked so close to her ear that his warm breath tickled the lobe, causing her entire left side to erupt in goosebumps. She once read that people called the sensation a skingasm. She grinned a little at the thought.
Adrian let her go, leaving a cold emptiness in his place. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to rescue a damsel in distress.” She heard the mischievous tone of his voice, but when she snapped her head in his direction to scold him, she saw something else in his eyes. A softness and gentle concern that hadn’t been there before and something very sad around his mouth.
Every instinct wanted her to reach out and comfort him. He inhaled sharply as if someone had punched him in the gut, and scooted away from her. Maybe he read her mind. It was probably for the best, but she was in turmoil, trying to sort through the stewing pot of emotions he had stirred in her. She had no idea how to handle all these new feelings, and was all at once elated and pissed off. But at herself or the priest?
He got up from the floor and fetched a tray from the coffee table. He placed it between them and sat further away, on the other side of the platter. “Help yourself.”
She eyed the food suspiciously. “Leftovers?”
“From the funeral, yeah.”
“Right.” She squirmed at the thought of her actions that afternoon. “The funeral.”
“So what was that about?”
The directness of his question took her aback. She had no answer for him. “I don’t know, Father. I just … couldn’t move.”
“She was harsh, yeah?”
“A little. But … surely you know how it is. Didn’t you grow up in a place like that?”
“No … I grew up in a relatively normal Catholic home. Big family. Mum, dad, six brothers and sisters.”
Suni gave him a confused look. “So what did you mean this morning, then?”
He raised his eyebrows and absentmindedly took something from the tray. “I was assigned to a boys’ group home for,” he made air-quotes, “wayward youth after my ordination.”
“How long?”
“Two years … and then they sent me here.”
“You’ve only been a priest for two years?”
“Two and a half.”
She quickly did the math in her head. At the very least, he was twenty-seven.
“I’m almost thirty-four,” he said, with that uncanny certainty that he knew exactly what she was thinking. He bit into the pasty and pulled a face. “Ugh.” He chucked the pastry into the fire. “How can something be soggy and crunchy at the same time?”
He brushed the crumbs off his hands and watched her intently as she nibbled on something mysterious. It was disgusting, but she ate anyway because it gave her something to do instead of fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
“I see you all the time, you know?” Adrian said.
“Huh? Sorry. What?”
“At the church, at the group home with the little kids every week, at the hospital, even the old folks’ home. You give a lot.”
Suni blushed and shrugged.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Why did you become a priest?” she asked in a desperate attempt to get his focus off her. Father Joshua knew, but this priest … this priest could never know her secrets.
“I wanted to … give something back to people. Your turn.”
“The same thing.”
“Uh-huh … but why?”
Irritated by his constant questioning, she followed Adrian’s example and sacrificed the quiche to the flames. “There is no why. What’s your why?”
His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her. “Are you done … with the food?”
“Yes.”
He pushed the tray out of the way and closed the gap between them. When he was in front of her he rolled up his sleeve, and she finally saw the tattoo that had everyone talking. An ornate cross with a rosary draped around it. The tattoo? She wondered for all of two seconds because he didn’t stop until the sleeve reached his bicep.
“I wasn’t always a priest.” Adrian shoved his arm towards her. “Look.”
She gasped and quickly raised her eyes to meet his. Deep scars riddled his arm. “Track marks,” he said, giving her a pointed look. “The other arm too. And my feet. My groin.”
Suni tried to process what the priest was telling her. “You were a --”
“Complete junkie. Look.” He pointed to the tattoo. “See where the cross begins?”
A small white dot marked the skin right at the top of the tattoo. “That’s the last time I shot up. It was the only vein we could find … and it was the one that almost killed me. The tattoo … it’s a reminder of a promise I made.”
“Which was?”
Adrian rolled his sleeve back down and fastened the button around his wrist. “I was a roadie for a really bad metal band … but you know, I thought it was glamorous, and adventurous. Touring around the country, playing dingy pubs, girls everywhere throwing themselves at us, the drugs, the drinking. I thought that was freedom from all those … Catholic rules, you know?”
Suni nodded. She did know.
“But,” he crossed his legs and started fiddling with the seam of his trousers, “I suppose there’s freedom, and then there’s insanity. I took it way too far.” For the first time, he seemed insecure, averting his eyes, staring at his fingers. “Those five years … it’s a miracle … if I were sober for twenty-four hours straight at a time …. Anyway, I woke up in a bad state. The girl, my girl, she didn’t … she died.”
Speechless, she sat in shocked silence, her hand in front of her mouth.
He looked up, the pain bare in his eyes, everything stripped away. He looked so vulnerable, so human. “I lay next to that dead girl and begged God to bring her back. I promised … if he pulled us through, I’d dedicate my life … but yeah, he only saw fit to spare me. I don’t know why …” Adrian’s breath hitched and he stopped talking.
Suni swallowed away her own tears. Her throat stung with the effort, but she had a lot of practice with this too. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” He turned from her and quickly wiped away tears. When he turned back, he seemed more like his old self. “I don’t know why I told you.” He chuckled. “I’ve never told anyone outside the clergy.”
“I just have one of those faces,” Suni said dryly.
Adrian looked at her in surprise and then burst into laughter. It took him several minutes to stop. She watched him with a small smile on her face. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said when he finally gained some control. “It’s not really that funny. Thank you.”
“For what?”
Hu shrugged. “Listening. Not judging.”
“Of course not.”
Most of the sadness had left his eyes, replaced with that mischievous sparkle, but underneath it lurked the sorrow, and without even realising what she was about to do, she reached out and cupped his cheek. The rough bristle of his day-old beard scratched the inside of her palm, sending another volley of goosebumps down her arm.
The priest’s eyes widened at her sudden touch. A smile, neither happy nor sad, flicked across his face. He sighed softly and closed his eyes, folding one of his hands over hers, holding it against his cheek. He turned his head and fluttered his lips over her palm, lingering for just a moment. The hot air from his lips washed over her hand and seared through her skin into her heart.
She should have been scared. Her heart should have been going a mile a minute, but she was strangely calm, staring into Adrian’s face, soaking up every detail, trying to burn his image into her mind forever … as if she was afraid he’d disappear at any moment, and she’d never see him again.
He lowered her hand from his cheek to his chest, pushing it down hard enough so that she could feel the rhythmic boom-boom-boom of his heartbeat. He stared at her with a burning intensity, past all her barriers and straight into her soul.
To her surprise, he leaned over and kissed her. So gently that she wasn’t sure his lips were there at all. Butterflies dancing over her mouth, setting off a tornado in her stomach. Her mind reeled. What are we doing? His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her tightly against him, and all rational thought slipped away. He let go of her hand and buried it in her hair.
Suni slipped her arms around Adrian, getting lost in him. Breathing in his scent as she relaxed against his solid body and forgot about the world around them. She didn’t know she could ache for someone this much. But ….
This is wrong.
They broke away at the same time.
They stared at each other. Suni wanted to run away. Never in a million years did she ever think she’d find herself in this situation. What did I just do? What am I going to do now?
She was terrified of the unknown. She had crossed a boundary, and she didn’t know if she could come back.
Adrian looked equally horrified, his skin ruddy and wet with perspiration. There was no humour in his smile as he took her trembling hand in his, but one look at her expression and he let go. Suni lowered her head, hiding her face from him -- he had cracked her mask, and he’d be able to see every competing emotion in her eyes. “I really shouldn’t have,” he said softly and retreated.
“I’m sorry, Father,” she said. “I don’t know what -- I don’t usually ….” She burned with shame. Just as she said the words, thunder clapped loudly overhead. Somewhere a tree gave up the fight and came crashing down, along with what little was left of Suni’s courage. “I should go. Before …” unable to say the words, she just shrugged, waiting for him to agree.
Adrian stood with his back to her, his hand tangled in the mob of unruly curls. “I can’t in good conscience send you out in this.” His voice cracked and he loudly cleared his throat. “Eat something. I’ll be back.”
With that, he left the room and Suni alone with her thoughts and the nine circles of hell looming overhead.
Leaving was indeed impossible. The storm picked up in intensity, and fat raindrops started drumming on the roof. Suni looked around the empty room feeling utterly lost and hopelessly alone, while thoughts as turbulent as the storm raged through her mind.
The last time she felt this bad was after Sister Antonia caught her in the shed with Lucas, her one and only high school boyfriend.
She took a bottle of water from the tray and wandered over to the bookcases, trying to push the memories of that night away, but it was as if a dam wall had broken, and every mean, ugly, soul-destroying thing the nun hurled at her that night came rushing back.
Antonia raged for hours, her face a hair’s breadth away from Suni’s, putrid breath washing over her, spittle splashing against her skin. “Wicked temptress. Slut. Whore.” That night, the insults wouldn’t stop coming. Words that now whirled like a maelstrom in her head.
She had to get out of here before she caused another man to sin. And not just any man this time, but a priest.
Deep down she knew the nun was full of shit, but it didn’t help -- at the forefront of her thoughts were the sister’s words, “You are nothing but a temptation. A disgusting whore.”
Did she say that to all the girls? Suni couldn’t remember, but she probably did. Sister Antonia had a deep and lasting loathing for anything that resembled femininity. Was she wrong though? Look what I did.
With all the effort she could muster, she turned her mind to Adrian and the predicament she had caused. Without thinking about it, she hooked her finger over the spine of an old, green book. She stared at the gold embossing without really seeing it -- her mind on the absent priest, fearing what she’d do if he came back. Telling herself to stay strong sounded good, but she wasn’t able to resist him five minutes ago. “Jezebel,” Sister Antonia’s voice echoed in her mind. “Vile, sinful being.”
“Yep, that’s me,” she said aloud and jumped at the sound of her own voice.
“What’s you?” The priest asked directly behind her.
Suni squealed and dropped what she could only assume was a valuable book, but before she could pick it up, Adrian brushed past her and snatched it from the floor. She resisted the urge to kick the priest in the ribs. “Do you always sneak up on people?”
He straightened and gave her a deadpan stare. “Yes.”
It was impossible to stop herself from smiling at his pretend-serious face. The stern expression crumbled, and he returned a grin. “What do you have here?”
“A book.”
“Yes, thank you, Miss Obvious, I can see that.” The book seemed so small in his hands, yet he handled it with the same delicate care as he would a newborn. He opened the book, and with obvious delight read:
“’It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me…”’
As he read, his beautiful baritone reverberated in the air and into her -- the vibrations setting every nerve on edge. His tone rising and falling, adjusting to every emotion of the poem until she didn’t just hear, but felt every word. She got lost in the story, and shuddered with delight when he lowered his voice to a barely audible rumble as he reached the end of the poem:
“’And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.”’
Adrian closed the book and gave her a shy smile, as if the man didn’t regularly get up on a pulpit and had the entire congregation hanging on every word when he delivered his sermons.
“Beautiful,” she sighed.
“Yes,” he said. “One of my favourites.”
“I mean,” she hesitated as heat rushed to her cheeks, “the delivery. But the poem is good too.”
“Thank you,” he said, obviously pleased, brushing against her as he leaned forward to put the book back on the shelf.
Suni gasped and jumped back. Adrian lifted his eyebrows and turned on her like a spider on its prey. “Are you afraid of me now?”
His gaze burned through her, and she shuffled uncomfortably. “No, I …” how could she explain to him the fears of a lifetime?
“What is it then?”
“You’re a priest and we --”
“We did nothing wrong. Not really.”
“I caused you to … stumble.”
“You did no such thing.”
“I did though.”
Slowly, he shook his head. “No. And I won’t have you think otherwise.”
“Father … I --” He reached out as if to take her hand, and she recoiled. If he touched her, she might forget herself again, and she didn’t want to sin more than she already had.
Adrian sighed. “What do you want then, Suni?”
“Absolution --”
“No,” he interrupted. “I can’t give you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s nothing to forgive. We didn’t sin.”
“You are right, we didn’t sin, I did … and I caused you to sin.”
“How?” Adrian asked, but before she could answer, he went on, “I swear, if you give me that original sin bullshit, I’m throwing you out in the rain.”
“But --”
“No. That is the worst argument ever constructed. To take something as beautiful as love -- to twist those gifts into something ugly and punishable. It's cruel. Just … stop it.”
“Father --”
“Adrian.”
“Father … I think you’re confusing lust with love.”
Something dark flashed in his eyes but was gone so quickly that she thought she had imagined it. “I dare say I know more about the subject than you do. Come here.” He took one massive step towards her, closing the gap between them, and wrapped his long fingers around her elbow in a vice grip. He dragged her across the room, away from the comforting heat of the fire, into a dark corner. “Wait,” he commanded. Suni barely had time to process what had just happened, and before she could analyse it, a bright white light flooded the room, and Adrian spoke directly behind her again. “Look up.”
She did his bidding, and her stomach twisted into a sick knot. “The second circle of hell,” she whispered.
Above her, a strong wind dragged lonesome souls through an endless dark, their mouths frozen in horrified screeches, while a horned demon stood watch.
“Yes. The punishment for lust. As sins go, Dante theorised that it was the least heinous of the lot.”
“Why?” She sensed his warmth against her back, so close that she felt the rise and fall of his chest.
“Because it doesn’t happen in a bubble. It’s the only sin that you can’t commit by yourself.”
She snorted. “Dante clearly didn’t understand the concept of fantasies.”
Adrian chuckled. “Is it a sin to fantasise?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “It says so right there in the Ten Commandments.”
“It does not. It says you can’t covet another’s wife … says nothing about coveting your friendly neighbourhood priest.”
“Don’t be flippant.”
He sighed loudly and dropped a warm, heavy hand on her shoulder. “I’m not being flippant, Suni, I’m trying to tell you something … rather badly it seems.”
Anger started to boil in her chest. “No, I get it. You’re trying to tell me random sex with random people is okay. Is it because you have an itch to scratch?”
He didn’t flinch. “I did not say that. Sex with the right person can be … almost magical. And if I just want to get off I can go and get it from a hundred girls who don’t have your … let’s call them hang-ups.”
She spun around, fully expecting the priest’s hand to go away, but he kept it on her shoulder, even as she turned to look at him. And oh, he was way too close again. She felt her resolve crumbling. The bright light accentuated the sharp edges of his cheekbones and highlighted the soft, full lips. She went from angry to wishing she could jump into his arms. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth, her throat clicking as she tried to work up some moisture. “Why me, then?” she asked softly. “I’m nothing special.”
A soft frown formed between his eyebrows. “Yes you are. I told you … I’ve seen you.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
He shook his head a little, his face a mixture of confusion and amusement. “I like you,” he said in his simple, blunt manner. “In ways a priest shouldn’t like a woman.”
“Oh … no, you can’t.” She tried to step away, but the hand on her shoulder tightened and kept her in place. “Let me go.” He relaxed his hand but she couldn’t bring herself to walk away from him yet. Her head started spinning as a thousand thoughts tumbled through her mind. But one stuck. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
She was torn between running out into the rain, or into the priest’s arms – neither was an option, so she opted to place as much distance between them as she could. She twisted her arm out of his grasp and somehow made it back to the fire.
Suni stared into the flames. Blood rushed through her head, and she longed for the comfort of the rosary between her fingers. Instead, she folded her hands in front of her and tried to pray, but the familiar words wouldn’t come. What am I going to do now? She bit her lip in an effort to stop the tears.
The storm had died down somewhat, and this time she heard Adrian’s heavy footsteps. Felt as he came up and stood behind her. “Stop it,” he said.
“I can’t.” She sighed and resisted the urge to let go of all her inhibitions, knowing that she should get out and get away before they both made a catastrophic mistake. “I am … it’s my … I am the temptation, don’t you see?”
Adrian snorted loudly. “Come on now. Do you really believe that?”
Suni sighed. “Yes.” But just as quickly the word no flashed in through her head. “No, not really.” She could almost hear him grin. Her determination slipped another few notches, and the get out voice grew fainter. Still, she had to try. Had to resist, however feebly. “But even so, I have a duty … a responsibility to stop this … this thing.”
His arm snaked around the front and he took both her folded hands in one of his. The little remnants of prayer fled before the image of his hands on her body, elegant fingers exploring every inch of her skin, caressing her like his tongue caressed Annabel Lee.
“Why is it on you? I can stop. I can walk away. All you have to do is say the word. I’m not an animal. I can control myself.”
“Yes, but you are --”
“A priest, I know … but I’m also just a man.”
“You are more than --”
“No, I’m not.”
“But --”
“Shh. You think too much … and you talk too much. It’s really quite simple.” His other hand came out of nowhere, lifting her hair away and out of her neck. “Do you want me to stop?” Long fingers rested on her collarbone, just under the collar of her shirt.
She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to rip the pious white blouse off her, wanted to feel his hands on her skin, wanted to know what it would feel like when their bodies melted together in a heated embrace and he pushed inside her.
Dizzy with longing, she gave up the fight and leaned back against his solid body. He didn’t voice any surprise, but the hand in her neck moved lower and undid the first two buttons of her blouse. He slipped the tips of his fingers inside, tracing the top of her bra.
Nerves and excitement mixed until it formed a knot in her stomach. He was so close, and she willed him to keep going, but he didn’t move -- even the hand that was halfway inside her shirt lay warm but motionless against her chest. Did he want her to say something? Do something?
“Suni,” he breathed against her neck.
He was right there. All she had to do was turn her head. He spared her from making a decision. Letting go of her hands, he hooked his forefinger under her chin and gently turned her face towards him. She wanted to drown in his eyes, which had lost the last of their mischievous sparkle. Never had a man looked at her that way -- with so much longing. He gave her an almost uncertain, boyish grin. Her heart melted, and with it the last of her misgivings. She wouldn’t stop him, and she’d regret it in the morning, she knew she would … but all that mattered was this moment, the look in his eyes, the sweet grin on his lips, the soft smell of his fading cologne.
She lifted her head and their lips met. Adrian groaned softly, and the shiver that ran through him vibrated into her own body as if they were one being. The hand in her shirt slid lower, pushing the cotton of her bra out of the way so he could run his fingers over her hard nipples.
Little sparks of electricity shot through her body, robbing her of breath. Could they stay like this? Lips locked in their own embrace, sharing the same air, safe in their little corner of the world. Could they hang on to this moment forever?
Without warning, Adrian broke away and pulled his hand out of her shirt. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her roughly against his chest, the back of her head hitting his torso with a jarring thump. She felt his erection. Hard and pulsing against the small of her back, and she sobered. She should have used the momentary clarity to stop it … stop him. But she heard his heavy breathing mixing with her own, felt comforted by his hard body against hers, and she let it all go -- the fear and the doubt and the what ifs. She let it take her. The yearning. The hunger for his touch on her skin that now burned through her.
Over the sound of the blood rushing through her head, she could just about make out the rapid ba-boom, ba-boom of his heartbeat. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and barely audible.
“Yes.”
“You should stop me … if you feel I’m pressuring you … I don’t want you to feel --”
“I don’t,” Suni said, meaning it.
Without another word, he tucked her blouse out of her skirt and started undoing the buttons, slowly working his way up from the bottom. She looked down at the fingers which slipped the first button through the hole with so much ease and skill and willed him to hurry up. The need for him had become almost unbearable, and her legs were water. Blindly, she reached behind her until she found the backs of his thighs. She dug her nails into his muscles, anchoring herself against him.
He undid one more button, and another, before slipping his hands under the fabric, drawing a straight line from the top of her skirt over her bare midriff to her bellybutton, sending tingling little sparks through her spine.
He took his time tracing every line of her belly muscles as if her stomach was a canvas and his fingers the brush, masterfully painting every stroke and gentle contour of her body until she was on fire and his touch bordered on painful, driving her to within an inch of madness.
He slid his finger upwards until a button halted his path. She sighed and closed her eyes, trembling against him as she anticipated his next move. The button slipped open, and he groaned softly as he moved his hands up, soft fingers fluttering almost impatiently over her ribcage. Abruptly, his hands stilled against her ribs, thumbs gently stroking the under side of her breasts. She felt his chest rise as he inhaled sharply and held his breath.
She opened her eyes, and turned her head, tilting back so she could see him. His lips were parted slightly as he slowly let go of the air in his lungs, while his Adam’s apple bopped up at down. His fingers quivered against her skin, and a violent shudder shook him. What’s wrong? The question formed, but she couldn’t get it out. Even in his despair, he was exquisite and she felt oddly proud that she caused it.
As if feeling her looking at him, his eyes snapped open and blazed into hers with a dark, burning lust that left her both scared and excited. A hot fist of desire formed in her stomach, spreading through her like lava, settling between her legs with throbbing intensity.
Adrian gave her a knowing smile, and without breaking eye contact he undid the last two buttons of her shirt. Gently he wrapped his hand around her neck and lowered his head to give her a soft, lingering kiss. He let go of her, stripping his lips away, breaking the connection to push the blouse out of the way, running both hands up the side of her body, inching his way up until he finally wrapped his hands around her breasts, teasing her nipples through the fabric.
Her whole body caught on fire. It was almost too much. Almost, but not quite.
For a moment, the warmth and solid support of his body went away, but before she could feel any disappointment, he undid her bra and pulled the straps down her arms. She reflexively moved to cover herself but before she could, his hands were on her and enveloped her breasts, leaving no time for any solid thought to form. Adrian groaned loudly, his breath rasping over his lips.
He grabbed her waist and spun her around, forcing her to let go of him. She didn’t have time to think what next. His lips were on hers, one hand buried in her messy hair, while the other fumbled with the button of her skirt.
For a moment, she stopped paying attention to what he was doing. She surprised even herself when she yanked his shirt out of his trousers and with clumsy fingers undid the buttons. Somehow, their lips never parted, not even as they wiggled out of their clothes.
With anyone else, being naked and exposed like this would have made her uncomfortable, but not with him -- passion consumed her, setting every ounce of her being on fire with pure, unadulterated lust.
Fingertips glided over her slick back, sending little shivers of delight up and down her spine, lower and lower, until he reached the rounding of her butt. He cupped her backside and pulled her tightly against him, pushing his erection into her stomach. At last, she felt his skin against her own.
She wrapped her arms around him, digging into his back, feeling the muscles playing under her palms. Too afraid to let go and too afraid to hold on, all she knew was that she wanted more of him.
Pushing the last remnants of fear away, she broke their kiss and folded her fingers around his cock.
Her lips felt bruised and tender, her face stung where his beard rubbed against her cheeks -- but she enjoyed it, knowing who was responsible.
Running her hand up and down his hard shaft, she relished in the sensation of the velvety soft skin gliding against her palm. Adrian inhaled sharply and lowered his head until their brows met, but offered no guidance. Feeling stupid and inept, she circled her thumb over the slick head of his penis.
A low growl rumbled in his throat. Knowing she was the one drawing those sounds from him filled her with something she didn’t quite understand and didn’t want to explore.
But it wasn’t enough. She needed all of him.
Apparently, he felt the same. One moment she still had her feet on the ground, the next she was airborne as he lifted her up and swung her around, carrying her to the blanket. Gently, as if he was afraid he’d break her, he lay her down.
She pushed herself up on her elbows as he knelt between her knees, completely unashamed. Several more tattoos decorated his chest. The fire played tag on his shiny skin with the shadows and made his tattoos dance. Curly hair stood in all directions. Fearfully and wonderfully made, she thought and smiled.
He followed her down, planting a hand on either side of her head. Staring at her, he searched her eyes. Suni felt as if she was drowning in a pool of deep emerald water as his gaze questioned her. Do you want this? Really want this?
A lump formed in her throat. She nodded.
The expression in his eyes changed. They darkened. Became feverish. Burned with desire, and barely controlled pure, carnal lust. Her breath caught. Did she look at him like that?
He kissed her. Once. Softly. Lips fluttering over hers like the wings of a butterfly. He moved down her body, planting soft kisses everywhere. He was everywhere. Filling up all her senses. Driving her insane one little butterfly at a time.
She knew where he was going and she tensed. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. Then he was there, opening her folds, revealing her most secret place to his gaze. His breath tickled the sensitive skin, and his beard lightly scraped against her clit, before he wrapped his searing lips around the hard little nub, flicking his tongue softly against the delicate spot.
Sparks shot through her, and her hips bucked up towards him as if they had a life of their own. She bit hard into her lower lip and wrapped her hand around his soft curls. “Don’t stop.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
Gentle fingers discovered parts she didn’t know existed. Slowly, he pushed one finger inside, while his tongue and lips played with her clit. She pressed a fist against her mouth in an effort to hold back her cries. Her knees threatened to slam shut on his head as every muscle in her body tightened.
The urge for release was overwhelming. It built in waves, threatening to crash over her like a tsunami, but she couldn’t let go, couldn’t give in to it. Her thighs quivered with the sheer effort it took to hold back.
Adrian lifted his head away, quickly replacing his mouth with his thumb, expertly stroking her clit, while his finger slid in and out of her. “Suni. Look at me.”
Tears streamed down her face. Every cell of her body screamed at her to give in to the orgasm. He lifted her hand away from her mouth, and leaned forward until they were only a breath apart. “Look at me,” he said again, his voice low and gruff.
She was sure she wouldn’t be able to do it. It was too much. Every sense, every part of her had been taken over … by something she didn’t understand but wanted so much. Another wave washed over her, building on the first. It echoed through her, threatening to break her apart. Finally, she managed to open her eyes.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Look at me and just let go.”
She split open, and the orgasm ripped through her, forcing her knees shut. Her cries went unheard to her own ears, lost in the noise of the blood rushing through her body. Every nerve ending alight with sheer ecstasy. The tsunami crashed over her. Everything went away. The room dimmed to nothing. The storm muted. They were the only two people on the planet. All that mattered was this moment. All she saw was him -- keeping her locked in his gaze until the climax ebbed away to a dull throb.
Before she could fully regain her senses, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her towards him. Slowly he pushed inside, melting into her like quicksilver, fusing their bodies together as one.
Adrian groaned loudly and shivered. Letting go of her legs, he fell forward, covering her body with his. He stilled. The only movement the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The only sound his ragged breathing.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him as close as possible. Connected. Never coming up for air. Never coming back to reality.
“Suni,” he whispered in her ear. His voice washed over her like a beautiful melody floating in on a warm summer breeze.
He lifted himself up so he could look at her with burning eyes. Very slowly, he pulled out of her, taking his time, leaving her feeling empty, before filling her up again. Over and over and over, until she was nearly delirious, increasing his pace with every thrust, until he drove into her so hard and fast that she didn’t know where he began and she ended.
He groaned and closed his eyes, dropping his head, obscuring his face with messy curls. “Not yet,” he gasped, as if to himself.
Suni cupped his cheek, and he lifted his head to look at her. She stared at his beautiful face contorted in the agony of pleasure, air rasping over his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed, teeth clamped on his lower lip.
He let out a loud groan and stopped holding back. Again and again he plunged into her, harder every time, until pleasure and pain mixed into one.
Another swell took her, quickly lifting her to the apex. She rode it with ease this time, allowing it to take her along for the ride. Ebbing and flowing with the warm tide, as the start of another orgasm rippled through her, then took her by force, holding her in its grip, before releasing her.
She held onto him until it was over, stifling her cries against his chest.
Above her, somewhere, Adrian let out a deep guttural growl. Inhaled deeply and held his breath as he thrust. Hard. Once. Twice more before he exploded. Throbbing inside her.
He lowered himself and buried his face in her neck. Joined together, both breathing heavily, clinging to each other until their breathing and heartbeats returned to normal.
Gradually, the world around them righted itself and came back into focus. Adrian let out a long, shuddering sigh, and rolled off her, leaving her cold and exposed. Empty. “Look at me,” he said.
Suni turned. He lay on his side, head propped on his hand. The way he looked at her, as if he couldn’t believe she existed, replaced the disappointing coldness with warmth. With his free hand, he brushed messy, wet hair from her eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine.”
He nodded and grinned, eyes still searching her face as if looking for something she might be hiding from him. Suni would have done anything to know what he was thinking at that moment.
Without warning, he grabbed her and flopped on his back, holding her firmly against his chest. For the first time in many years, she felt safe and protected, unconcerned about the what ifs and the challenges of all the tomorrows that lay endlessly before her.
They lay quietly, the only sound in the room their breathing, the crackling of the burning wood, soft rain drumming on the roof, and the rhythmical beat of his heart lulling her to sleep.
Suni woke with a start. The fire had gone out, and she was freezing. It took her a moment to realise the bright, orange glow that filled the room didn’t come from the last glowing embers, but the rising sun.
Adrian lay with his back to her, curled into a little ball. Gasping, she jumped up. “Adrian.” She took a moment to relish the feel of his name on her lips, how comfortable it felt to use it, then shook him. “Wake up!”
He mumbled, cursed, and turned. “What?”
“We slept all night.”
He groaned, wiping his eyes, looking for all he was worth like a little boy. Suni fought against the desire to jump right back in his arms.
“The sun’s up. I have to go … and you shouldn’t --”
“Be naked with a girl.” His voice was still thick with sleep. “You are right.”
Suni scrambled to find her clothes, while he sat on the floor, watching her. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Put some clothes on.”
“Why?” he asked with the same naughty edge he had in his voice last night. “It’s my home. I’m allowed to be naked in my home. You’re the one who shouldn’t be in here naked … with a priest no less. You wicked woman.”
She stopped pulling up her skirt. “You think I’m wicked?” she asked, surprised by how badly his words stung.
“Of course not,” he said. “It was a joke.” She turned her back on him and searched for the rest of her clothes, the air between them thick and uncomfortable. “Suni?” he asked once, but she ignored him.
Only when she was fully dressed did she turn to look at him again. Adrian had found his trousers and stood facing her, arms crossed over his naked torso. “I suppose I have to leave through the back door … like a proper Jezebel.”
“Well yes, you’ll have to … but Suni --”
She held up her hand. “It’s okay. It was just a joke.” Tears burned the back of her throat. How many women had he done this with, just to discard them the next morning?
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, she knew that she was being unreasonable, but it was as if she couldn’t help herself. Every ugly notion planted by Sister Antonia over the years came into sharp focus, and she couldn’t get rid of them.
“Please don’t leave like this.”
“I’ll see you in church, Father. If you could just show me to the back door.”
Quietly, he led her through the house, past the row of empty rooms that were filled with priests once upon a time, and to a door that opened onto a terrace, which was completely cut off from outside view by shrubs and trees.
The crisp air filled her lungs and cleared the last cobwebs of sleep away. She didn’t have any time to take in the fresh beauty of the morning or the tranquillity of the patio. Adrian gestured towards a path that led from the terrace. “Follow the path, when you get to the fork, turn right, then right again. If anyone sees you, tell them you got lost in the woods. Hikers stray onto the property by accident all the time.”
The ease with which he told her how to make her escape convinced Suni that he had done this before. “Fine.” She tried her best to hold back the tears.
“Come to the church later. We’ll talk,” he said in a pleading voice.
“What’s there to talk about?” she asked and tried to turn away from him.
Adrian’s hand shot out and clamped around her upper arm. Roughly, he pulled her back inside, kicking the door shut behind her. He leaned against the door with both hands, trapping her between his body and her exit.
Shocked at his roughness, Suni tried to push past the priest, but he didn’t budge, and even when she shoved him with all her might, all she managed to do was shake him around a bit, but she couldn’t move him. She fell against the door, and stared at her feet, determined to hide her feelings.
“I broke my vows for you.” He sounded hurt and angry.
She didn’t look up. “Yesterday you told me you don’t care.”
“I said I don’t feel guilty.”
“Of course you don’t,” she said, trying to put as much venom as she could in every word. “How many of us had there been?”
“Before or after I took my vows?”
“After.”
“Just you.” He bit his lip. “I have never … not for anyone. But I did for you, and you have no idea what it means when a priest -- this is not easy, and for some reason, you’re bound and determined to make it even more difficult. Why are you doing this? Are you punishing me or something?”
Suni was flooded with remorse. She didn’t spare a single thought for this man and what he must be going through. “No. I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I … this is new for me … everything … I have never --” She threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know what to do.”
Adrian let go of the door and took a step backwards. “Well, you forget everything Sister Antonia ever taught you, and you don’t just run away.” A small smile tucked at his lips. “You talk to me, and we figure it out.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay?”
“Yes.” Relief started to replace her unreasonable anger. Talking sounded good.
“And now,” Adrian said, taking a step towards her again, “you kiss me.”
Finally, she lifted her head to look at him. She had hoped that the previous night’s activities would have removed some of his allure, but if anything, it was worse now. Sighing, she stepped into his embrace and let him kiss her.
They lingered in each other’s arms for a moment, allowing themselves one more forbidden minute, one more reprieve before they had to face the real world. Then he broke the spell and stepped away. “Now go, before someone catches you here. Until we figure this out, no one can know or we’ll be done for. Come to church later today, and we can talk.”
“I’d like that.”
Adrian nodded, satisfied. “Me too,” he leaned past her and opened the door. “Remember, if anyone sees you --”
“I’m lost.”
Suni stepped outside without looking back. If she looked back, she might not be able to leave. Feeling lighter and filled with an irrational amount of joy, she inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh scent of the clean air.
As she reached the edge of the veranda, she heard the door click softly and turned back. He was gone. Not forever, she reminded herself. I’ll see him later, and maybe there’s a way we can make it work.
Humming softly she bounded down the stairs and took the path, hardly noticing the devastation from the storm or the wetness that seeped through her shoes and chilled her feet.
For once, she chose to be blind and deaf. She chose to ignore the what if voice, and decided to be happy.
###
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Acknowledgements
I'd like to take this time to thank a few special people:
Sarah, my ever-present writing buddy, motivator and slave driver. Thank you for the endless hours you've spent kicking my ass. Thank you for always being there, the support and the advice. Wouldn't be able to do any of it without you.
Charlene, thank you for keeping my kids occupied while I hammer away at the keyboard (sometimes aimlessly), and thank you for taking time at night to read whatever new tortures I come up with.
Ian, my poor long-suffering husband, thank you for never giving up on me.