Saints and Sinners (A Classic Romance) (14 page)

"Blasphemy! Blasphemy is what you speak. You shame me. For years you've shamed me. Leave this table and don't come back unless you can apologize to me with more than words. Your thinking is wrong, and until you can right it we have nothing left to say."

"At least we agree on one thing." Matthew threw down his napkin. "As far as I'm concerned, this Thanksgiving is over. And so are we." He got up so fast, his chair hit the wall behind him. Matt shifted his gaze to his mother, who covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom. I tried, so help me, I did. I thought it could work this time, but I have to admit that my thinking was grossly wrong. Dee. Jason and Loren. I hate to cut dinner short, but it's time we left."

The rest of the family had put down forks and knives and were mute. His mother was now openly crying, saying that she loved him, then pleading with Carlton to stop this horrible thing and give them all some peace.

Clearly stunned, Dee just stared at Matthew. He reached for her arm and pulled her up. The way she and the children followed him meekly to the door told Matthew two things: They supported him without question. And they weren't novices in the witnessing of heated disputes.

They made the trip back to Hayes in silence. Dee sat close to Matthew's side and held his hand.

By the time they pulled up to her cottage, Jason and Loren were nodding off. They promptly went upstairs to bed.

"Matthew, would you like a glass of wine?"

"I'd prefer scotch, if you've got it. A double on the rocks."

He was staring grimly ahead when a glass appeared under his nose. "Thanks," he said shortly. "Do me a favor and turn off the lights."

Seconds later the room was covered in darkness. Then he heard the strike of a match and saw a candle flame leap. He felt her sit beside him as a soothing new age instrumental trickled into the silence.

"You've had some experience with ugliness, haven't you?" he asked.

"More than I'd like," was her soft reply.

"Sorry to add more to it, Dee. I had thought time would ease the animosity. If I'd known otherwise, I never would have pulled you and the kids into it. We could have stayed here and shared Thanksgiving the way it was meant to be enjoyed. My oversight. Or maybe my ongoing refusal to bend."

"Matthew. My Matthew." She made his name a much-needed caress. The touch of her hand on his was even more needed. "Drink your scotch. Kiss me. Talk to me. Whatever helps, whatever I can do, just tell me. You're hurting. I hurt for you. And I hurt even more to think I contributed to what happened today."

"Believe me, had I gone alone, it would have ended the same. Worse, since you wouldn't have been there to share in my mess." The liquor burned down his throat.

"How bad is the mess, Matthew?"

"You saw for yourself. One helluva mud-slinging mess." He polished off the last drop, taking no time to savor the liquor. He hadn't indulged in serious imbibing since he'd hung up his leather jacket. Dee's quick refill of his glass struck him as the action of a woman accustomed to catering to worldly men. He didn't like that. It also told him nothing he could say would shock her. And for that he was glad, since it was time he came clean.

"Look, Dee, it's like this. I was expelled from my first pastorship. Less than two years, and boom came the drop-kick. I'd tried to conform, but little differences of opinion became big ones. I ended up stepping on a lot of toes. They branded me a heretic for speaking what I thought truthful and blackballed me from future service in the denomination I was raised in. A denomination where my father is very high-profile. I'm not saying their philosophy is wrong, but I felt I had the right to express my beliefs. Unfortunately, mine didn't mesh with theirs."

"How terrible for you, Matt."

"Yeah, it was. But even worse was Dad turning his back on me to join with the side his bread was buttered on. He said he did what his conviction told him to do. I held to the fact that he'd taught me to do the same, but unlike him and his peers, the only thing I was intolerant of was intolerance." He snorted derisively. "Funny, I hadn't realized until then the man I grew up almost idolizing had such a double standard. He could tolerate anyone or anything but his son's fall from grace."

Matt's laugh was bitter and short. "And let me tell you, did I fall then. It became my personal mission in life to raise holy hell."

Dee's reaction was to sift her fingertips through his hair and press a tender kiss to his neck.

"Were you bad?" A smile was almost in her voice.

"Honey, let me tell you, I was the baddest of the bad. At least I tried my best to be. Sold every possession I owned to stay afloat, even my car. I bought a motorcycle and took off. Halfway across the country I hooked up with a biker gang."

"You?" Her smile became outright laughter. "Matthew, that's wild!"

"It was wild, all right." He chuckled himself, glad for some black humor. "Midnight rides, tough women, brawls in bars. Only I had this problem. Every time a fight started, I automatically took the role of peacemaker. Whenever anyone got beaten up or threw up from too much of a good time, guess who tended them? And there was always someone with a personal difficulty or emotional conflict. Word got around that the dude into meditating wasn't bad in the advice department. Just couldn't help myself."

"So you helped whoever needed helping."

"Something like that. So much for my attempt at being one mean, macho man. I rode with them for a couple of years, then one day we cruised into a city where I saw a woman on a corner holding a little baby and a sign. The sign read: HOMELESS. WILL WORK FOR FOOD. HELP ME FEED MY BABY. Made me want to cry. Still does, just thinking about it."

"Me too." Dee's eyes were moist. He loved her eyes. He loved
her.
In Dee's eyes he could more than forget the shadow of his past, the distance from his father. He could possibly begin to forgive.

Something inside him softened, something that had been wounded and hardened. With no more than her gaze, her alignment with his position, he felt himself begin the slow journey to mending. It was a wondrous thing. The beauty of it humbled him.

"Well, Dee, before I knew it, I'd passed the hat, or, rather, bandanna around and everyone pitched in to make sure the woman and her baby had enough to eat for a week. I remember thinking, What am I doing burning rubber when other people don't even have food? How selfish, how irresponsible. I felt I was much worse than my ex-church had made me out to be. So I quit fighting God and myself, said so long to my pals, and found the nearest homeless organization. The same one I work with now."

"But you left."

"It was time. Six years there took its toll. A person can see only so much poverty and hopelessness before he starts hardening himself to what's around him. Especially when he's alone. And I was. No one to share my fatigue with, or my anger for not being able to make more of a difference." Her cheek was soft beneath his stroking fingertip. If he'd had this, had Dee, maybe he could have stayed with it and made more of a difference. "I
was
alone," he said quietly. "But then came you."

She leaned into his touch. She looked as if she were about to say something important, to return his need for more of a commitment. But then she shook her head and pulled back slightly. Her following words weren't what Matthew wanted, needed, to hear.

"Do you ever see your biker friends?"

"We keep in touch. They know where I am even if I don't know what road trip they're on. I'm sure you'll meet them since they're planning a visit this spring." He shook with quiet laughter. "That should be quite a scene when they come roaring into Hayes, but I'll be damned before I ever turn my back on a friend or exclude any soul from God's house."

"Then the church doesn't know about you riding with them?"

"Hell, no! I'm not as perpetually stupid as my father thinks I am. I wanted this job. Needed it. It was the chance to prove I could make the cut as a pastor. In a far more tolerant church, mind you. Someone gave me the lead at the homeless office and I went for it." He paused, courting back the lost intimacy. "Thank goodness, since we wouldn't have met. Divine providence, Dee. I believe it. I hope you believe it too." He touched her lips and whispered, "Beloved."

Again he felt that moment of bonding. Again it eluded his grasp.

"Does the church know about you getting ousted before?"

"Let's say that my ex-affiliation wasn't nearly as interesting to this church as my credentials from college and seminary. I had a good track record with the homeless organization, and they were concerned with promoting community awareness of the needy. The scandal had died by the time these good people met me, and I didn't bring it up. My tracks should be covered, unless you decide to squeal on me."

"Matthew, you never cease to amaze me. You, a member of a biker gang, pastoring a church in Hayes." Dee chortled. "Talk about divine providence. That we met here... is incredible."

"As incredible as my being any kind of real biker. Actually I was more of an honorary member. Kind of a mascot. I understand they still laugh about the time I passed out when a tattoo artist pulled out his needles and went to work."

"You have a tattoo?" she said excitedly. "Where? Can I see it?" Her eyes lit up at the prospect.

"Why do I have the feeling you're getting a kick out of my less than successful attempt to live sordidly?"

"Please, Matthew?"

He raised a brow and smiled wickedly. "I have two. Considering where they're located, you might want to, ah, contemplate that request. Just don't contemplate too hard."

"You mean they're located in... private places?"

"One is. The other's not so private, but I'd have to take off some clothing for you to see. Interested, Dee? I don't know about you, but kisses and only kisses are taxing my patience." Her swallow was visible. He delighted in having that effect on her. Was it possible that he could use the intensity of their attraction to get that commitment he desired even more than her sweet, luscious body?

Dee had grown accustomed to Matthew's small silences and moments of absolute stillness. But this was different. His face was shaded by an intensity she recognized: Purpose.

To what end, she wasn't sure. Then he led her hands to his chest, and she knew. His purpose was
passion.

Kisses and sweet caresses were one thing, but this irreversible turn in their relationship could make every wall she loathed, but was frantic to keep, come tumbling down. Dee quickly took her hands back and started talking fast.

"Maybe you can show me the tattoo later. Now tell me what sort of differences of opinion caused your first church to evict you. You seem pretty traditional to me... in an unconventional way, that is."

As he leaned back he let out a stream of air through his teeth that sounded like a hiss of frustration. Then he stretched his arms on the couch's worn back. The motion caused his shirt to tighten against his chest and shoulders, the cuff to rise up his wrist, revealing a bit of dark masculine hair. Did his chest have hair? Dee wondered. If so, how much and what would be the texture? Coarse and thick or perhaps soft and swirled in a seductive pattern? Would it flow short of his navel, or dip beneath? Her face grew warm, and she feared she was too openly expressing her own want and frustration.

When she returned her attention to his face, she saw a sly smile touched his lips.

"So you'd like to know what differences of opinion set me apart?" He unbuttoned his top button, then stretched again. "There were quite a few, but the one that comes to mind at the moment has to do with my views on premarital sex. When I counseled unmarried couples it ummm... came up a few times."

Had she knocked down Pandora's box and scattered its contents in her mad rush to shut the lid? Dee swallowed hard.

"You don't believe in it, right?" she said quickly.

"Quite the contrary," he replied smoothly. "I do. What about you?"

"I—well, I think it depends on the people involved."

"You mean whether they love each other or if it's just a shallow exchange of body parts?"

"Ah... yes."

"I couldn't agree more."

"You actually told young people it was okay to go all the way as long as they loved each other?"

"Not quite." He caught her hand, which she'd pressed at her throat, and kissed her palm before urging it to his chest. His heart beat heavily; hers was closer to a drum roll. "It was and
is
my opinion that two mature, consenting adults who have a verbal commitment—as in 'I love you, need you, and want to spend the rest of my life with you'—don't need legal papers to sanctify a physical union that heaven respects."

Dee rubbed the button beneath her finger, torn between releasing it and rushing Matthew out the door.

"I love you, Dee." His simple statement jolted her. "I also need you and respect you. If you can return those feelings, I have faith that the rest will work itself out. My belief in our future would be strong enough for me to take you to bed tonight. Say that you love me," he softly commanded.

The sweetest, most intoxicating rush flowed through her veins. No man had ever said he loved her like that. No man had ever looked at her with such honesty and complexity of emotion: Love, in all its glory. Selfless. Devoted. Needy.
Sexual.