26. Chapter 26
Kingsley
I gripped my rosary so hard that the beads bit into my clammy palm. The minutes dragged by as I waited for Father Cruz in the rectory. I still hadn’t told him about my hiatus, but things were about to change any second now. I’d finally requested a one-on-one so I could confess everything.
The entire last week had been torture. Not a minute passed that Harley wasn’t on my mind.
I fasted almost the entire time, which wasn’t hard because I barely got any food down since she left.
I spent a lot of time in God’s presence, repenting with tears, reading the Bible, and begging for forgiveness.
But the canyon between us only widened. The separation from Him was the worst feeling I’d ever experienced.
A knock came at the door, and I flinched.
Father Cruz entered, smiling. He claimed the worn armchair across from me and folded his hands. “What can I do for you, Brother Samuel?”
“I, uh . . .” The muscles in my shoulders tensed almost painfully. It felt like the low ceiling and stuffed bookshelves moved in to trap me. How was I supposed to confess everything I’d done?
Father Cruz’s eyes softened. “You know you can tell me anything.”
“I had sex,” I blurted, then groaned inwardly. Way to go, man.
Holding my breath, I waited for his reaction all the while heat crept up my neck. His expression didn’t change one bit. I’d expected his brows to disappear in his hairline or a cough or a widening of his eyes, but . . . nothing.
“Did you hear what I said? I had sex. Several times.”
Now the corners of his mouth lifted. Smiling. He was smiling . “Yes, I heard you the first time.”
I gaped at him. “Is that all you have to say?” I had committed one of the worst sins a monk—not to mention an aspiring priest—could do, yet he acted like I didn’t do the dishes. Had I missed something?
My mind raced, searching for a plausible explanation, then slowed. Oh man, please not.
“Did you . . . Did you see us?” I choked out, raking my memory for the moments Harley and I had been together. Had he seen us outside the guesthouse? Inside? In Serenity Lake?
Father Cruz leaned back in his chair. “I told you I used to be a cartel member before becoming a priest.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. Couldn’t he just say yes or no?
Then again, I probably deserved to squirm.
“The leader had a short temper, and you didn’t want to be around him when he exploded. One time he shot one of our own. So I learned to read his expression and body language for the slightest of hints to know when to make myself scarce.”
“So you can read me like a book.”
He gave a nod.
“You knew the entire time?”
Another affirmative.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I trusted you would come to me.”
My gut contracted so hard I was ready to throw up. “I wanted to. Sooner, I mean. It wasn’t just physical. I love her—”
Father Cruz silenced me with a raised hand.
“I’m not condemning you, Brother Samuel.
Just because we’re monks and priests doesn’t mean we won’t fall in love or that we’re free of sin.
Only Jesus was.” He sighed. “I didn’t like the idea of you looking after our guest, but the Lord told me to trust you with her. ”
I dipped my chin to my chest and remained in that position for a moment. Which meant what? That God had tested me? He didn’t tempt us, I knew that much.
Whatever His reason for telling Father Cruz to trust me with Harley, I had failed. Miserably.
The old desk phone—our only connection to the outside world—rang, but Father Cruz didn’t pick up.
“You need to look at the root cause behind your actions. First of all, as a monk, you deny yourself all the worldly pleasures and comforts, and seek them in Jesus instead. This rigorous lifestyle isn’t for everyone and can leave a conscious or subconscious lack. ”
I wanted to protest that I was very well made for this lifestyle, but was I? Not if I considered the decisions I’d made over the past weeks.
“Then we have to bring your upbringing into the equation. It left you depraved of love. Women have a lot of love to offer—they’re made to nurture.”
Yes, Harley had made me feel respected and . . . taken care of. “That’s no excuse for my behavior.”
Father Cruz shook his head. “It’s not, but I want you to understand yourself better. The way I know you, you want to do everything right, and if you don’t, your mistakes haunt you for the rest of your life.”
Nailed that one.
The phone rang again.
“Understanding your wounds will help you forgive yourself,” Father Cruz went on. “If you don’t forgive yourself, Jesus’s death was for naught.”
I needed a moment to digest those words. A part of me wanted to argue, but one didn’t argue with the abbot. Especially not if he was correct.
“Not to mention the enemy loves to use sexual immorality and everything that revolves around it as a weapon against us. Look at the world. Sex sells, and it comes in many different forms. Not even we priests and monks are safe from those attacks.” A shadow darkened Father Cruz’s eyes.
“By saying that I don’t excuse the many cases of child abuse that have happened in the Catholic Church.
It makes me sick. Back in the day so much that I thought about leaving the priesthood behind. ”
I had to think of Rome. He was an impressive and terrifying man, but how many people knew what had been done to him as a kid? His reaction to my confrontation showed how deep the scars ran.
“Why did you stay a priest?” I asked Father Cruz.
“I decided to become the kind of priest who defied the bad image of the Catholic Church.”
“I’m glad you stayed,” I said quietly. “You had a huge impact on my life.”
He waved a hand in the air. “We’re getting off track. No matter what the consequences of your actions will be, you’ll have to forgive yourself eventually. You owe it to your Savior.”
“What are the consequences?” I dared to ask the question that had been burning a hole into my gut ever since I’d first kissed Harley.
Father Cruz heaved a deep sigh. “I’m still praying about that.”
More waiting. Definitely deserved that.
A knock came at the door.
He held up a finger and rose. The old wood floor creaked under his weight when he crossed the room to the door.
“Pardon my intrusion,” Matt’s voice carried inside, “but you and Brother Samuel have a visitor. It’s urgent.”
My heart jackhammered in my chest as I craned my neck to see who it was. Was it Harley? Had she come back?
“Come on in.” Father Cruz stepped aside, and Keaton sauntered into the rectory. As always, he looked like he’d popped out of a magazine for luxury watches in his white dress shirt, black slacks, and leather shoes. But instead of displaying his usual easy smirk, his mouth was tight.
I punched to my feet. “What’s going on? Is Wentworth okay?” He was deployed. What if he’d gotten blown up? Shot?
“Relax, champ. He’s fine.” Keaton nodded at Father Cruz. “Thank you for allowing me to interrupt, Father. I think you’ll want to see this.” He unearthed his cell, navigated the screen, then passed it to me.
Father Cruz stood next to me, watching. The video showed the massive screen on Velvet Drive that usually played commercials. Now it was black. A banner appeared: Saint James Monastery does it again .
My blood turned to ice when a video of me getting put into handcuffs followed. Then it switched to a dashboard camera clip of me choking out Harley’s ex and his accomplice. It didn’t look like defense, but like I was the one who’d attacked them. And then—
Terror and mortification punched me in the gut with a vengeance. How was this possible? How had someone filmed Harley and me inside the monastery? The fact that we were decent and only making out in Serenity Lake wasn’t very reassuring. What other footage existed of us?
The video ended, and Keaton pulled his phone away. “You know I always told you you’d look good in the model business, but that’s not what I had in mind.”
I gave him a tortured smile, appreciating that he tried to lighten the mood.
But my mood couldn’t be lightened. My sins were on display on Velvet Drive for the entire island to see.
Probably on the internet, too, so the whole world knew what I’d done.
What was a whole lot worse, though, was the damage this video would cause Saint James.
Simply because of one man’s actions—mine.
I forced myself to look at Father Cruz, who’d said nothing the entire time. His expression was grimmer than I’d ever seen before. An apology burned a hole into my tongue, but I didn’t utter it. No words in the entire encyclopedia would make right what I’d done.
“If you would excuse me, gentlemen,” he said. “I have to make some phone calls. We’ll continue our talk later.” With that, he dismissed Keaton and me from the rectory.
Outside in the hallway, I palmed the wall for support. Forced air into my constricted lungs. Every inhale felt like I was breathing fire.
“Hey.” Keaton squeezed the back of my neck. “I know this all looks screwed up right now, but it’ll be fine. God is in control. Nothing happens without His permission, remember?”
I nodded numbly. Yeah, I did remember. But the damage was done—everything because of my idiotic decisions.
The question was just how bad the repercussions were.