7
I walk home blindly. Heedless of the night, of the stinging cold .
I feel like Iˇm burning alive .
I was with Marie only moments ago, my fingers sliding inside her. The moment when her muscles squeezed hard, my name rolling off her lips, was the most exquisite kind of pain. I came a moment later, like a school boy. It was half from the feel of her hand and half from the sight of her-head thrown back, eyes shut-as she gasped in surprise .
I get home and kneel on the ice-cold floor. For years I thought of this floor as punishment for my thoughts and desires. Now that Iˇve acted on them, though, there is no guilt. What just occurred with Marie was Godˇs intent, too beautiful to be a sin. Iˇm finally able to feel grateful again. Life now spins out in front of me like some kind of fairy tale, too sweet to be real .
Iˇm going to marry her. One day weˇll have a home of our own, and children, and what we shared tonight...will be repeated a thousand times over. My experience with women is limited to some fumbling, frantic encounters in school, but my imagination far exceeds it. I harden at the thought of how much more I want from her, at how badly I want to hear that inhale of hers-sharp, surprised-when I push inside her .
When the time comes, I will taste and feel every inch of her, again and again, until Iˇm finally full. And I suspect, where Marie is concerned, that I can never feel full .
I walk to the parish hall for language classes the next morning. I donˇt need to be here, but I am, and Irene buzzes beside me, saying things I barely hear as I watch the door. My stomach is in a knot, remembering how slick and warm and tight Marie was last night. Thinking of the sounds she made as she came. Focus is impossible .
The door opens and my head jerks toward it. The two Broussard girls walk in, their happy chatter turning to blushes and whispering as my eyes meet theirs. I look away, disappointed .
¨Father,〃 says Irene. Thereˇs irritation in her voice-most likely because I failed to hear her question. Irene is becoming a problem. Iˇve long wished sheˇd volunteer less but have never been able to ask it of her, given that Marie is here nearly as much .
¨Iˇm sorry,〃 I reply. ¨What was that ?〃
¨I was saying that I made a chocolate tarte last night and wondered if you might like me to bring some by for you after dinner ?〃
I blink twice, not sure Iˇm following. ¨After dinner ?〃
She flushes. ¨Yes,〃 she says. ¨I thought you perhaps might enjoy company. It must get lonely for you here .〃
I wince and try to soften it with a smile. ¨Thatˇs kind of you, Irene, but if we believe God is with us at all times, none of us can be truly lonely, yes ?〃
Iˇm a hypocrite. How many nights have I spent wishing Marie were with me? How many nights have I prayed only to feel emptier than I did before I began? How badly do I wish there was a way she could stay in my rooms tonight ?
The door opens again and this time, my eyes see the one thing theyˇve wanted all along. Marie. She is glowing and brilliant in a dress so plain even Irene couldnˇt find fault with it. The contrast only makes her beauty that much more apparent .
I begin moving toward her. I donˇt even realize Iˇm moving until Iˇm halfway across the hall, and when she turns my way, I see her heart in her eyes .
How could I ever have wondered if she was my destiny? Sheˇs the one thing that makes me feel like life is a miracle .
I walk until we stand as close as we dare, which is still far closer than I perhaps should. Iˇm already thinking of the feel of her in my arms, tucked against me, those soft lips on mine, the sigh she releases when she yields to me. The way she looks at me right now, from beneath her lashes, is enough to make my blood heat, to make my breath come in small doses .
¨I need you,〃 I whisper. Itˇs not what I meant to say. ¨It doesnˇt have to be...〃 I hesitate, wanting to say it right and wanting it to also be true. ¨It doesnˇt have to be like last night. But I want to hold you. I want to talk to you without an audience .〃
She smiles. ¨Okay. But Edouard?〃 she asks, blushing. She bites her lip. ¨Iˇd like...Iˇd like it to be last night too .〃
She walks away and I walk straight out into the cold, hoping the bitter air will cool my blood, and perhaps stop sending it all to my cock, which aches in a way I can hardly bear. I say ten Hail Marys as I walk to the church, needing to end the torture, but it fails. The whole time Iˇm picturing what it would be like to be inside her .
I spend the afternoon paying sick calls, trying not to think of her, which is mostly impossible .
Meeting tonight will be risky. Itˇs too cold to go to the barn again, and I donˇt dare ask her back to my rooms, which leaves the confessional. Itˇs wrong. A better man would refuse. But I know-even as I sit here holding a dying womanˇs hand-that desperation will drive me there. I could convince myself that weˇd remain on opposite sides of the screen, that weˇd merely talk, but her parting words are ringing in my head .
Iˇd like it to be like last night too .
My God. Iˇm ruined. I will take every single thing sheˇs willing to give, and Iˇll take it even in the most sacred of places. I no longer care .
I finish up my sick visits and hurry back to the church, hoping to catch sight of Marie before she leaves so I can tell her the plan. I open the door to the parish office to let Anne, the part-time secretary, know Iˇm back, and find her looking worried and pale .
¨Edouard,〃 she says, her voice a whisper. Sheˇs never called me by my Christian name before, at least not without my title. ¨The church council is waiting in the meeting room for you .〃
¨For me?〃 I ask. ¨But we donˇt have a meeting scheduled .〃
Her eyes are wide. ¨They said itˇs an emergency and they want you to come in as soon as youˇd returned,〃 she says. ¨And...they seem upset .〃
My stomach sinks. Perhaps they heard that I wrote the bishop asking to be replaced, which wouldnˇt be ideal, but Iˇm worried it could be something far worse. What if my feelings for Marie over these long months and weeks have been far too obvious? Or, worse, what if someone-Henri, even-heard us in the barn last night? I canˇt imagine him turning me in, not with the damage it might do his sisterˇs reputation as well...but if he was desperate to keep me away from his sister, or angry, anything is possible .
I push open the meeting room door and the councilˇs whispered arguments come to a sudden halt .
¨Good afternoon, gentlemen,〃 I say, taking the remaining seat. ¨I wasnˇt aware we had a meeting ?〃
They glance at each other and then Louis Gerbert, an old-timer who still thinks the entire mass should be said in Latin, slams his hand on the table. ¨Something needs to be done about the Durands,〃 he says. ¨The girl has cast you under a spell .〃
My heart begins to thud loudly in my chest. Whatever it is they think they know, I canˇt let them leave here blaming Marie for it. ¨Excuse me?〃 I ask, with a small laugh. ¨Are you accusing a member of the parish of witchcraft? I rather thought those days were put behind us a century or two ago .〃
¨The Jews,〃 he replies. ¨You cannot trust them, Father. They suckle at pigsˇ teats. They do the devilˇs work here. Thatˇs why they smell of sulfur .〃
A few at the table have the decency to look away as he says it, but not all .
My jaw hangs open. Such lies were encouraged during Martin Lutherˇs time, but that was five hundred years ago. I never dreamed that even here, in this small town near Paris, among my own parishioners , theyˇd still be believed. ¨That is absolutely preposterous .〃
I wait for someone to back me up, and none of them do .
¨Marie-Therese needs to be stopped,〃 says Jean-Paul Daucort, who Iˇd previously believed to be a reasonable man. ¨Sheˇs poisoning you, infiltrating the church through you. We donˇt fault you for it, Father. Sheˇs beautiful, and with her trickery and cunning any of us might have succumbed, but it has to stop .〃
¨Mademoiselle Durand has done nothing of the sort,〃 I say, my voice too sharp, my fear too transparent. ¨Sheˇs as Catholic as any of you here .〃
¨I told you he wouldnˇt listen,〃 mutters Gerbert. ¨We should have done it my way .〃
My head jerks toward him. ¨And what way is that ?〃
He says nothing, rising from his chair and walking out of the room. Michel Quinault, the councilˇs head, places a hand on my shoulder. ¨Iˇll keep him in check for now, Father. But if you wonˇt remove the poison from your system, it will have to be removed for you .〃
The group of them rise together and walk out in silence .
Theyˇd condemned her before they ever entered the room and I donˇt know why Iˇm surprised. The anger of this town at the deprivation, at the men we lost during the Saar offensive, wants to be unleashed at something or someone. The Germans are far away but Marie is right here, an easy target. And it was me and my selfishness that put her there .