20. Chapter 20
Kingsley
I needed to talk to someone, and the only person I could confide in at the moment was Keaton. Sure, Matt knew, but after everything that had happened between us, I couldn’t talk to him about what I’d done with Harley. Treating him like before wasn’t easy. He, too, seemed to avoid me.
I rolled up to the wrought-iron gate of Keaton and Layne’s property and rang the bell next to a number pad and the speaker of the intercom.
Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I glanced at the two-story stone house surrounded by a wrought-iron fence and dense jungle.
Lights were on, so someone had to be home.
Maybe it was just Layne. Keaton usually worked late.
Please, Lord, let him be here. I needed him. Funny, considering he was usually the one who sought counsel from me. But there was really no one else I could go to. Wentworth was deployed, and I wasn’t really close with Tatum. Keaton was a Christian now, too, so he’d understand.
When no one answered, I rang the bell a second time.
Crickets. Probably better if he wasn’t around. Father Cruz had called Darkwater Refuge University and told me to pick up Harley from her friend’s place. So I didn’t really have much time.
“You know what?” I punched in the access code Keaton had given me for emergencies, and the gate opened.
A moment later, I stood in front of the main door and tried that bell, but once again no success. What if something was wrong with Layne? What if she needed help?
I stepped onto the freshly turned soil where once juicy grass had been—the fire had ravaged everything—and rounded the house in the darkness.
The farther I walked, the louder the bubbling of water got.
Chlorine hung heavy in the air. I’d always loved that smell as a kid, and still did.
We would spend hours in the pool until we were wrinkled like old grandpas and our lips blue.
Then we’d lie on the stone slabs and let the sun warm us, or when it rained, sit in front of the fireplace until our skin burned from the heat.
The illuminated pool sat empty, so did the outdoor lounge. Chuckling came from the hot tub—
I jerked away from the scene—Layne and Keaton in the steaming water, locked in a passionate kiss. How brainless could I be? Should’ve known they were sharing an intimate moment if they didn’t answer the door.
“Kingsley, is that you?” Keaton called out.
“Yup.” I didn’t dare turn back around, so I stared into the darkness of the jungle instead.
He chuckled. “What the Hades are you doing? Get over here.”
Ah . . .
“We’re decent, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Layne’s voice was saturated with amusement.
“I don’t think your decent agrees with mine.” She was wearing a bikini, I’d caught that much. But I didn’t want to see my brother’s wife in a bikini. I already had enough unholy images I couldn’t scrub from my mind. Namely the perfect body of Harley Raines. Her long legs, the curve of her hips—
I curled my hand into a fist. Don’t go there, man.
Keaton and Layne exchanged a few words I couldn’t understand, followed by laughter—definitely at my expense—then water sloshed.
“I’m going inside so you and Keaton can talk,” Layne said from somewhere behind me. “It’s good to see you, Brother Samuel.” The smile in her voice instantly lifted my mood. Despite her suffering, she always exuded peace. Never complained. Always clung to God.
“You, too.” I waited till the sliding door whooshed, then I turned to Keaton, who still sat in the hot tub, arms spread along the edge. And that signature smirk on display that had women falling at his feet. But Keaton only had eyes for his wife now. He’d come a long way.
He ran a hand through his wavy black hair as I approached. “You have terrible timing, champ.”
“My apologies. I should’ve—”
“Relax. We were just chillin’.” Grinning, Keaton got out of the hot tub and wrapped a towel around his black swim trunks. His ripped and tanned physique was a dead giveaway that he still modeled. “Let’s go to the lounge.”
We settled on the comfortable cushions framed by rich teak. Smoke rose from the fire pit table in the middle.
“What’s up?” Keaton asked.
I rubbed my clammy hands on my habit. “Remember when I told you about that scantily-clad lady who attends Mass sometimes? How my thoughts derail?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve had a guest for the past couple weeks. Harley.” I swallowed. “She’s very attractive.”
Keaton leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Since she’s around, I’ve been battling . . . unsavory thoughts. Lust and sexual desire. It’s been plaguing me. A lot.”
“Then you better keep your distance. Sexual immorality and all.”
Blood rushed in my ears so hard I could barely hear my next words. “It’s too late.”
Keaton’s brows drew together. “What do you mean? You kissed her?”
“I slept with her. Twice.”
With the life Keaton had lived before marrying Layne, there wasn’t much that could shock him when it came to sexual immorality. But the blank stare he gave me . . .
I buried my face in my hands. “What do I do, man? What do I do? I messed up beyond redemption.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Keaton squeezed my shoulder. “Crap happens.”
“No, it doesn’t. Not to a monk.” He didn’t understand the position I was in. Being a monk was all about rigorous self-discipline. About preferring nothing to Christ and allowing nothing to separate me from His love. I had vowed to stay faithful to God and serve Him.
Instead I’d done the complete opposite. I’d given into my flesh. Sought fleeting pleasure over my Savior’s everlasting love.
And I’d scorned His sacrifice as though the cross held no weight.
More than once.
Unbidden tears stung my eyes. God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.
“Ah, crap.” Keaton settled next to me, cupped the back of my neck, and pulled me into a hug.
For the longest time we sat there, me crying in his arms. The fact that I sought solace and advice from him proved just how far I’d fallen. At the same time, I was grateful I had him. He was the big brother I needed.
I finally pulled away. Roughed my hands over my wet face. “Haven’t told the abbot yet, but I’ll probably get expelled.” I gritted my teeth. “Losing my chance to become a priest or having to leave Saint James isn’t even the worst part. It’s what I did to God after everything He’s done for me.”
Silence stretched between us. Then Keaton cleared his throat.
“Look, I know we grew up with conditional love.” He scoffed.
“Can’t even call it love. Anyway, isn’t the Bible all about people being idiots and messing up, and God forgiving them?
His unconditional love? You need to cut yourself some slack, champ. ”
I stared straight ahead, not really seeing anything. Maybe.
“Let me get Layne.”
“No, it’s fine.” I didn’t want to talk to a woman about this. Telling Keaton was humiliating enough.
But Keaton was already on his feet, heading for the house. A moment later he came back with Layne in tow. She had donned a pair of sweatpants and one of Keaton’s shirts.
“King David slept with another man’s wife, then orchestrated said man’s death,” she began after settling next to me. “King Solomon had seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines. Lot’s eldest daughter made him drunk and—”
I held up a hand. “Yeah, I know those stories.”
“And what’s the conclusion?” Layne shook a black curl out of her forehead, her warm gaze resting on me.
“That the consequences are brutal.”
She pursed her lips. “Fair enough. What else?”
“None of them was a monk,” I balked. “I made my Solemn Vows four years ago.”
“So, a king has a lower accountability standard than a monk in God’s eyes?”
She got me there.
“What else is the conclusion of their stories?”
I gripped my rosary. The woman was persistent. “God forgave them.”
Keaton cupped his ear. “What’s that?”
“Okay, okay, I hear you.” The frustration coiling around my gut turned into resignation.
Mostly anyway. Layne’s point was valid. Sexual immorality was all throughout the Bible, and some very important people had done stupid stuff.
Yet I couldn’t just drop what I’d done, even though I had repented a hundred times.
Layne placed her hand on my lower arm. “David did horrible things, and God still called him a man after His own heart.”
I dipped my chin to my chest. Nodded. I knew that, too. Grasping the concept with my heart was a whole other thing. One I apparently wasn’t capable of.
“There’s something else.” Might as well tell them everything. “I almost kissed one of the brothers.” Heat crept up my neck. Could this conversation get any more uncomfortable?
Keaton coughed. “Holy Hades, champ. Can’t say I’ve done that.”
“I meant he tried to kiss me, not that I kissed him. He talked about having feelings for me. It came out of nowhere, and I still have no idea how to handle it.”
“That’s bizarre.”
“Not really.” Layne looked at Keaton. “Imagine living in a monastery and only spending time with the same seven people. You bond emotionally on a level that’s hard to comprehend for anyone outside that living arrangement.
Think of our brothers in the military. They share a bond we as civilians can’t comprehend.
The difference is they aren’t cut off from the world and can have a partner of the opposite gender.
Monks and priests, on the other hand, have to repress their romantic and sexual desires.
So it doesn’t come as a surprise if those desires get redirected or eventually surface. ”
Her words, hearing that someone else thought Matt’s feelings had to do with the circumstances rather than something I’d done, put me at ease. “That’s my conclusion as well. Us brothers really do have a strong bond.”
“Guess that makes sense,” Keaton said.
A chime broke into our conversation, and he picked up his phone lying on the lounge cushion. He frowned at it. “There’s a guy on a motorcycle at the gate. You know him?” He turned the cell to Layne, who shook her head.
“Can I see?” I asked. Might be Rome.
Keaton passed it to me.
Sure enough, it was him. What was he doing here?
My heartbeat slowed. Had something happened to Harley?