Priest (A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Love Story) (6 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

DAPHNE

I spent a lot of time the following week
talking to God and praying for guidance and forgiveness. I also spent a lot of
time convincing myself that there was absolutely no way that a parish priest
got drunk in a local bar and had sex with a stranger. No way. Carla was right
and I was letting my imagination take hold.

By the end of that second week, I was okay
with myself and able to look in the mirror. I had to accept that God didn’t
expect me to be perfect and everyone makes mistakes. I knew that, for the most
part, I was a good person, and I felt good about myself most of the time.

I had to decide to file the night of
drunken sex with the super-hot stranger under “bad decisions that I definitely
shouldn’t repeat.” I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it anymore. I also
decided to file the sound of the priest’s voice in the confessional underneath,
“coincidence.” That one was harder to do, but it had to be…didn’t it?

I slept in a little bit on Sunday morning
since it turned out to be my only day off. Mass didn’t begin until eleven, so I
got up around eight-thirty and had my coffee on the little balcony of my new
apartment. It was my favorite part of my new home, and the weather was perfect.

There are two things that renew me when
I’m feeling stressed out or overwhelmed. One of them is church and the other is
nature. I love to be outside, and since I hadn't had a lot of time to go for my
evening walks or just explore the new city, the balcony was a Godsend.

After I finished my coffee and bagel, I
went inside and soaked for a bit in the tub. By the time I pulled on my dress
and tights and fixed my long hair in a twisty side ponytail for church, I felt
good.

I love the church building here. It’s all
old stone and stained glass; just walking inside gives me a sense of peace. The
air is tinctured with the scent of incense and candles. I imagined that I could
smell the musty prayer books…or maybe I really could. As I dipped my fingers
into the holy water and made the sign of the cross, I breathed it in and let it
fill me with grace.

I made my way down the brightly-lit
passage with the polished wood floors and colorfully-painted walls that ran
along the east-end of the church. Back there, I passed the little vestry and
next to it a small kitchen where the Fathers and the Sisters often prepared and
ate their meals.

As I pushed through the heavy oak doors of
the inner sanctum, I could hear the singing of the choir as it echoed off of
the masonry and wafted up into the rafters. I found a pew near the front and
lost myself in the sweet song that reminded me of the innocence of youth; it
soothed my spirit and allowed me to imagine a beautiful life stretched out
before me.

When the choir finished, the lector came
out. I’d only been to that church twice since I had moved there, but the Father
had already announced his exit and said good-bye. The lector was there to
announce and introduce the new parish priest. I knew a lot of parishioners got
nervous when their old priest left them for a new post. I was so new there that
it didn’t really matter to me.

They were especially anxious because their
old priest of fifteen years had just up and vanished. It had been months and
still no one knew where he’d gone. Father Byrnes had done a great job of
filling in, though, and the congregation had grown close with and accustomed to
him. I didn’t know him well enough to form an opinion. The only thing I was
interested in was finally seeing the new priest’s face so that I could convince
myself once and for all that he wasn’t the man I slept with.

“Welcome, everyone. It’s so nice to see
that we have a full house today. I hope you all had a chance to see Father
Byrne off and thank him for visiting here with us. He did an amazing job and
we’ll miss him.

“But, when God closes one chapter of our
books, he opens another. We have the honor now of having our very own priest
that we can hopefully hang onto for a long time: Father Jace. He was here last
week and he’s been hearing confessions, but for those of you who haven’t had a
chance to be here, I’d like to re-introduce Father Jace O’Doyle.

“He’ll be walking in through the back
there today where you can all see him. Feel free to stand now and welcome him
one more time for all of you who didn’t make it last week.”

I stood up along with everyone else. The
church was so full that for several minutes, I couldn’t see over the top of
other heads to get a glimpse. I held my breath, just knowing in my heart that
it couldn’t possibly be him, but oh my! Was I ever wrong!

For the first time in my life, a cuss word
escaped my mouth in church as the man who I’d had a drunken one-night stand
with passed by my pew dressed in his black cassock and white collar.
I’ve committed a mortal sin.

I could feel the sweat beginning to form
itself under my arms and around my neck. My face was on fire. My stomach was
churning. I didn't know what to do.
Should I leave?

I was in such a panic mode that I didn’t
realize at first that everyone was sitting now and I was still standing up. I
sat down quickly and knew that if I got up and left now, it would draw more
attention to me than if I just stuck it out. I sunk down in the pew and cursed
the fact that I picked a seat so close to the altar. I usually had nothing to
hide…but oh, I certainly did now—so much.

Maybe
I should still leave. Maybe I should find another church and confess to another
priest what I’ve done.
I could feel the bile rising up in
the back of my throat. It burned hot like acid, and I was aching to at least
get up and rid my stomach of its contents. I couldn't risk it, though. Any
motion might have caused me to lose control and that would make a scene. If I
made a scene…then what?

I glanced around me. There were a lot of
people there. Maybe he wouldn't notice me; he’d been speaking for close to ten
minutes already and I hadn't processed a word that he had said.
How can he stand up there and recite mass,
knowing what he’s done? If I could ask him one question, that would be it.

I wondered what he would say, or do, if I
stayed after Mass and tried to talk to him. He was obviously worried that I was
going to tell someone. His question in the confessional convinced me of that. Could
I bring myself to face him, though?

In my defense, he wasn’t wearing his
collar when I met him in the bar. I had no idea that he was a priest. But he
knew…so did that make his sin greater? Of course, it does. He took vows. He not
only broke that sacrament, but he allowed me to commit a grievous sin without
any warning. I wasnot sure what God was thinking about it, but in my head,
“Father” Jace had a lot more to answer for than I did.

I shuddered at the thought of how he’d
just thrown away his purity that night and wondered if he’d done it before. He
sure seemed to know what he was doing.

I took a chance and glanced up towards the
altar. He was blessing the Eucharist and not looking at me. Will the body and
blood of Christ still be as holy after being blessed by a fallen priest?

I stared at his handsome face and
wondered, if he was so willing to throw away his relationship with God by
having illicit, drunken sex, what else might he be willing to do? What might he
be willing to do in order to keep it a secret? I shivered again and then
immediately chastised myself for those unpure thoughts. Sex is a far stretch
from murder.

I stuck out the mass until it was time to
receive the Eucharist. The church was a large one so there were three lines.
Father Jace was giving his out on the far right. I chose the line on the far
left. After I received my communion, I stepped to the side, crossed myself and
knelt quickly with a word of thanks to God our Savior; then, I slipped out the
side door. I could finally breathe.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

JACE

I stood in the greeting line after mass
was over and said hello to the people I’d already met and met quite a few
people that I hadn’t seen before. I finished talking with a young couple that
had just moved to the area and were looking to start a Bible study when I was
surprised to see a familiar face.

“Hi, Jace.” Lily had been my girlfriend
right out of high school for two years. She was as beautiful as ever. She had
long, wild, dark hair and light blue eyes that seemed to look right through you
sometimes. I had been in love with her, desperately so, once upon a time.

I took her hand and smiled back. “Lily,
it’s so good to see you. Do you live here now?”

“Yes, I work here in town. I’d heard that
you became a priest. Congratulations. I hope you’re happy.” I was. I was filled
with more joy than I ever knew…right up until Grandmother died and it all fell
apart. I forced a brighter smile and said,

“I’m very happy, Lily. Thank you. How
about you? Are you married? Any children?” She’d always wanted a big family. We
talked about getting married, but we hadn’t made it official yet before she
broke up with me. I wouldn’t have sex with her. I wanted to wait, and I was already
considering the priesthood…or at the very least, becoming a Eucharistic
minister.

She had told me she needed passion in her
life. We went our separate ways, and I went on to the seminary. She was my last
relationship before I became a priest and entered my relationship with God. The
irony is that if I’d slept with her back then, it would have been much less of
a sin than the one I’d committed a couple of weeks ago.

“I’m not married. I was engaged for a few
years, but it didn’t work out. I’d love to have coffee sometime and catch up if
you’re able?”

“I’d like that,” I told her honestly. It
would be nice to share an afternoon talking with an old friend.

“Great,” she said, taking out a little
card that had the name of a hair salon on it with Lily’s name underneath. “My
cell number is on that. Give me a call when you have some time.”

“I will, Lily. It was so nice to see you.”

“You, too,” she said, flashing that pretty
dimple again.

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

DAPHNE

Monday morning, I got a call from the
restaurant. It was my boss Ken. “Hey, Daphne, I’m sorry to do this to you, but
there was a mix up on the schedule and we’re a little overstaffed. Do you mind
having the day off since you’re scheduled for the rest of the week?”

“No, of course not,” I told him. I was a
little disappointed because I did need the money—and I was already dressed and
ready to go—but I could readily think of at least one thing I needed to do.
“Thanks for letting me know before I got there. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Daphne.” I liked Ken. I was
learning a lot from him, and although I hoped someday to go back to school and
become a nurse, it’s all good life experience.

After I hung up, I changed out of my work
clothes and slipped on a floor-length skirt and a white blouse. I left my hair
in the braid I’d put it in for work and headed down to the church. I had to get
it over with or it would ruin the relationship I had with God. Being a good
Catholic was what got me through so many bad times in my life. I was in no way
ready to lose that.

Confession was in full swing when I got
there. I waited on my knees in front of the altar until everyone else had gone
before me. When there was no one else left, I slipped into the confession box
and said, “Bless me, Father, but I’m not here to confess any sins. I’m here to
speak to you about what we did…the sin we committed together. I’m the woman you
had sex with. My name is Daphne and now, I know that yours is Jace. Father
Jace.”

It was deathly quiet for what seemed like
a long time. At first, I thought he wasn’t going to say anything to me, at all.
Then when he did, I found myself wishing that he hadn’t. “I slept with you? Are
you crazy? I’m a priest.” He sounded righteously indignant, and it really
pissed me off.

“How dare you? You broke your vows, and I
have agonized over this for nearly two weeks. You sat in there last week and
let me confess to you, and you didn’t have the courage to admit your part in
it. You were only concerned with whether or not I told anyone. Now you call me
crazy? What kind of a priest are you, anyways?”

I could hear him breathing heavily, but he
still wasn’t saying anything so I said, “Maybe you were too drunk to remember clearly.
You were slurring your speech a lot in that seedy little bar where we met. I
must say that meeting a priest in a bar was not something I would have ever
expected.

“I was pretty drunk, too, but I remember
that night vividly. I remember going back to your apartment and making love to
you in your bed. I remember waking up the next morning and feeling horrified
that I’d done something so horrible as to have sex outside of wedlock. I’d
never done that before, you know.

“Now, I not only have to live with that,
but thanks to you, I have to live with the fact that I had sex with a priest.
If you don’t think we need to talk about that, that’s okay. I’ll find someone
in the church who is willing to talk to me.”

I stood up to go and heard him say, “Wait!
I’m sorry. You’re right. You shouldn’t have to go to someone else. If you’re
still willing to talk to me, just slip me an address or something where I can
meet you before you go.”

I didn't know if the “I’m sorry” was for
sleeping with me, lying to me, or being angry with me—or if he believed it
would encompass it all. I wasn’t accepting his apologies at that point, but I
would give him the chance to talk. Mostly because I was so curious as to why he
did what he did.

I had already written down my address and
phone number in the hopes that he would agree to talk privately. I slipped it
through the slot on his side and left without saying anything further.