8. Evelyn
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVELYN
Long after the breakfast dishes had been cleared, and the morning chores completed, I walked down the hallway toward the chapel where snippets of a conversation drifted out from Father Hudson’s slightly ajar office door.
If the door was ajar, he was here to do the sacrament of confession, though he didn’t hear them in his office.
I took another step, not wanting to eavesdrop, but Serena’s strained tone made me linger.
“I just don’t know if I’m ready to fully commit myself to the church,” Serena said, her words laced with uncertainty.
Father Hudson responded, “It’s natural to have doubts, Serena. The path of faith is not always easy. Tell me more about what you’re struggling with.”
A pang of jealousy stabbed through me. I’d hoped to speak today with Father Hudson. While he was a busy man, he was also good at helping me figure out knotty problems of faith. Somehow, he always had the right bit of scripture or quote to help me through whatever I was struggling with. I wished he was guiding me right now, not her. I’d had so many failures over the past few days.
As he continued speaking to Serena in that calm, compassionate way of his, envy coiled in my gut.
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like…like a–a harlot ,” Serena said, and despite myself, I leaned closer, eyes widening in surprise, hungry to hear more.
“I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t figure out with the Lord’s help. You can confide in me, that’s what priests are for. This is a safe place to confess, Serena,” Father Hudson said.
“Okay.” Serene sighed. “I just...I love sex, Father,” Serena said. “I love how it feels, the intimacy of connecting with someone that way. The physical pleasure, all of it.”
Heat crept into my cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the topic but also from a flicker of self-righteous superiority. At least I don’t have that problem, I reassured myself. I’ve mastered my base desires. I told myself that I never even struggled with lustful urges.
As badly as I wanted to keep listening, guilt pricked at me and I finally forced myself to walk away, silently adding “envy” to my growing tally of the day’s sins to confess later. My mind replayed Serena’s intimate admission, making me feel strange just for having overheard it. I quickened my pace to the chapel, desperate to immerse myself in cleansing prayer.
I needed to clear my mind, to focus on God.
After evening prayers, I retreated to my simple room, the events of the day weighing heavily on my mind. I’d decided to pray a rosary tonight before I slept.
“Help me, Mary, pray for me to be strong against temptation,” I murmured, thinking of my transgressions. “I allowed envy into my heart today, begrudging the time Father Hudson spent counseling Serena. I entertained uncharitable notions toward Frank, instead of compassion. I know you are Mercy...”
Kneeling beside my narrow bed, I crossed myself and began to pray the rosary, running my fingers over the familiar wooden beads, the comfort of the familiar words wrapping me like a loving blanket as I meditated on the mysteries of soul and sin.
Feeling better as I finished the final prayer, I knew confessing all this would help even more. Doing penance and praying for the grace to overcome my weaknesses was second nature for me. “Mother of God, in Your Mercy, hear and answer me…”
After several minutes more of contrite prayer, I rose, my heart lighter, and prepared for bed. I changed into my plain cotton nightgown, the fabric rough against my skin. A strange melancholy filled me as I braided my hair for sleep while staring at my reflection.
I crawled into bed and pulled the thin blanket up. An odd sense of unease prickled along my spine, but I was too tired to examine it further. Sleep quickly overtook me, dragging me down into an unsettling dream.
Standing in an opulent ballroom unlike anything I had ever seen, I stared around me. Gleaming onyx floors stretched out before me, shot through with veins of deep ruby that pulsed with an otherworldly light. The same eerie red glow emanated from the crystal chandeliers overhead, casting distorted shadows on the walls.
Music played in the background, a sweet rhythmic air played on violin.
All around me, men and women dressed in extravagant and revealing clothing twirled and laughed, their movements fluid and entrancing. Many of their outfits were made of gauze, concealing the bodies underneath hardly at all.
Seeking a safe place for my eyes, I looked down at myself and gasped. Instead of my cotton nightgown, I was wearing a stunning crimson dress that caressed my body like a second skin, slit to my upper thigh to allow me to move. My loose hair cascaded in glossy waves over my shoulders and down my back.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried fervently to wake up from this unsettling dream. How had my mind taken me to this den of luxury and excess? Panic rising in my throat, I tried to back away, but the dancing couples hemmed me in on all sides. Their laughter took on a mocking edge, echoing discordantly in my ears.
A man emerged from the swirling crowd, his presence magnetic and alluring. Though his face remained shadowed, the intensity of his gaze on me made my skin burn. He moved with a predatory grace, the other dancers parting before him like water.
“You are breathtaking,” he said, in a voice like silk, smooth and warm. He held out a hand to me. I hesitated. Every fiber of my being screaming at me to run, to flee the temptation this stranger embodied.
Yet somehow, I found myself placing my hand in his, a thrill running from my hand to hidden parts of me at the contact.
His touch radiated warmth and power unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as if an electric current passed between us, waking something deep within me that I didn’t know was sleeping.
In a quick smooth movement, he pulled me close and rested his hand on the small of my back. I should have pushed him away, should have protested the intimacy of the gesture, but my arms didn’t want to move.
As he led me in a dance, a rush of unfamiliar sensations flooded me. My body moved instinctively with his, our steps perfectly synchronized as if we had danced together a thousand times before.
The scene around us shifted abruptly. The music became wild and the couples around us threw away their light clothing. Their dances devolved into naked bodies writhed together on the floor in a mass of tangled limbs and glistening skin. Moans and sighs of pleasure filled the air, mixing obscenely with the music.
I stared in shock, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and something else, something darker that I didn’t want to acknowledge. A hidden desire to watch, to see what they would do to each other. I should look away, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from the debauchery unfolding before me.
The man slid his hands lower, cupping my hips and pulling me back against him. I gasped at the intimate contact and his arousal pressing into my groin.
He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he murmured things I’d never heard before in that silken voice, words that made me tremble and ache in forbidden places. He was like sin itself, tempting me, promising pleasure beyond anything I could imagine.
This is wrong. I shouldn’t be feeling this. I’ve already given myself.
The other couples faded away. All that mattered was the heat of his body against mine, the strength of his arms around me. My treacherous body thrilled at his touch. I had never known desire like this, had never felt so alive, so aware of every nerve ending. It was exhilarating and shameful all at once.
His lips trailed down my neck, setting my skin on fire with each brush. I shivered, caught between the urge to pull away and the almost overpowering need to lean into his touch, to let him do whatever he wanted to me.
Just as his mouth found my racing pulse point, I jolted awake with a gasp.
I sat up in bed, my heart pounding furiously against my ribs. My skin was slick with sweat, my damp nightgown clinging to my trembling body. Confusion swirled inside me, warring with the shameful ache of unfulfilled desire.
Bending my head, I whispered desperate prayers, begging for forgiveness, for strength against temptation.
Even as the words left my lips, the ghost of his touch on my skin was as vivid a memory as his wicked murmurs in my ear. The intensity of the dream haunted me, taunting me with sinful promises.
It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything. It was not real.
I prayed until exhaustion tugged at the edges of my consciousness once more. I lay back down and resolved to double my devotions tomorrow, to pray harder and longer than ever before. And work hard, too, to exhaust the body that was misbehaving.
Relaxing into sleep again, the dark room around me faded away as I slipped once more into dream.
The rich scent of sandalwood enveloped me as I found myself sitting in a warmly lit office, bewilderment swirling through my mind. Glancing down, I was startled to see myself dressed in a clingy sweater and short skirt. While we still wore what many considered “normal” clothes, this outfit was much more revealing and unlike anything I had worn since long before my calling.
Across from me sat a man I didn’t recognize, yet there was something about him oddly familiar. With dark hair, sharp features, he was handsome in a way that made me instinctively wary.
He steepled his hands in front of him on the desk. “Welcome. Please, call me Ian. Nobody here calls me ‘doctor.’ ”
Doctor? Wait. Was he my psychiatrist? When did I make an appointment?
Everything is fine. You’re supposed to be here.
Those words flowed through my mind, but it wasn’t my voice that spoke. I blinked, confused, but also agreeing with the words. Yes. Yes, this was right. I’d called to make this appointment. We were supposed to be talking. Yeah, that seemed right, I’d wanted?—
“Evelyn?”
I snapped my attention to him, locking gazes with him. Instantly, peace settled over me. “Uh… yes? Er, I mean, all right, Ian . Thank you for seeing me.”
Ian leaned forward, his demeanor casual yet attentive. “Let’s start simple, shall we? Tell me about your childhood. What was it like growing up?”
I relaxed in my seat, unsure of the dream but playing along with my subconscious. “I... I had a good childhood. Loving parents, a close family.”
Ian held my gaze as he spoke. “Sounds idyllic. You must have been the perfect child.”
My lips curved despite my unease. “I tried to be. But nobody’s perfect.”
“And what about now?” he pressed. “Do you still strive for that perfection?”
I shook my head, a trickle of shame winding through me as I thought of my recent growing list of transgressions. “No. I know I sin. I fall short every day.”
Ian’s eyes seemed to darken, as if he could read my mind. “Everyone sins, Evelyn. It’s part of being human. What matters is how we deal with that sin. What weighs heaviest on your soul?”
The words spilled out of me, a torrent I couldn’t control. “I struggle with anger sometimes. And pride. Envy, too. I know they’re sins, but...” I trailed off, my cheeks heating.
Ian nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”
I sighed and I whispered, “Sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough, no matter how hard I try. But I know that’s my pride talking. I remind myself that God’s grace is what matters, not my own achievements.”
“And what about your other sins?” Ian asked smoothly, leaning back in his seat, watching me intently. “These are simple, surface level sins. What about the ones that make you feel truly ashamed?”
Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I curled my hands around my upper arms. “I confess my sins, repent them and seek absolution.”
“But you still remember them,” Ian replied smoothly. “Tell me about the ones that linger in the back of your mind, no matter how many Hail Marys you say for your penance.”
I twisted my hands in my lap, trying to summon the will to end this strange conversation.
“I… I’ve had unkind thoughts. Judged people unfairly. Umm…wanted things,” I said, my voice scarcely more than a breath. “Things I shouldn’t want. Things I’ve never even...”
Ian’s voice dropped, becoming more intimate. “What kind of things?”
The conversation had veered into deeply personal territory, and my face grew hot, a prickly sensation spreading across my skin as my discomfort intensified. “That’s between me and God,” I bit out.
Ian’s expression was warm, his tone gentle yet insistent as he spoke. “Sometimes it helps to say it out loud. Especially in a place like this, where there’s no judgment.”
Growing defensive, I shook my head, a tightness coiling in my chest. “Saying those kinds of things makes them more real. I don’t want them to be real. I don’t think this is helpful.”
The corners of Ian’s mouth curved upward. “I am trying to help you, Evelyn. You should be honest with yourself.”
Frustration rose like a bitter taste in my mouth. “You’re pushing too hard,” I said, my voice low and bitter, a petulance in my tone.
Unbothered by my barely contained anger, Ian tilted his head. “Why does that bother you? Do you always lash out when someone gets too close to the truth?”
I glared at him, and said through gritted teeth, “I’m not lashing out. I just think you’re being invasive.”
A headache coiled in my skull, its tendrils of pain snaking through my temples, a sharp, stabbing pressure.
“And yet,” he said, leaning forward, his breath ghosting over my face, “you’re still here. Answering my questions. Isn’t that interesting?”
Breathing hard, I replied, “The only reason I’m even entertaining your questions is so this session will end faster and I can get out of here.”
What was I even thinking? This was a dream. I was arguing with myself. I could stand up and walk out at any time.
But it was Ian who rose from his chair and circled around to perch on the edge of the desk, far closer to me now. Close enough I could feel his body heat and smell the faint, spicy scent of his cologne. The combination made my head swim.
“All right. Let’s move on. Tell me about the people in your life. Anyone special?” he asked.
I blinked, startled by the abrupt shift in his questioning. “What do you mean?”
“Someone you care about,” Ian purred, each syllable a silken caress. “Someone who’s been on your mind, maybe more than they should be.”
A nervous swallow caught in my throat before I finally admitted, “There’s Father Hudson. He’s… kind. Supportive. A good mentor.”
Ian cocked his head. “You admire him?”
“Of course,” I replied quickly, on familiar ground, “He’s a good man, deeply devoted to the church. The world needs more people like him.”
“Do you ever think about him?” Ian asked casually, yet there was a deliberate edge to the question. “Not as a mentor, but as a man?”
I bit the lie out, not caring I was speaking a falsehood. “No.”
Perched on the desk, Ian crossed his legs at the ankles. “But you have thought about it, haven’t you? The warmth of his touch, the electric tingle of his kiss?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “The way his caress might make your skin tingle?”
A wave of desire that made my breath catch and my thighs tremble as I squeezed them together, fighting the overwhelming sensations his words evoked. “That’s wrong. Sinful.”
Ian’s voice stayed a low smooth murmur, like dark chocolate melting on the tongue. “Sinful, maybe.”
He gazed at me then, slow and knowing, and a shiver raced down my spine. “You dream of being touched, don’t you? Of being caressed and kissed and brought to heights of pleasure you’ve never known. You ache to be filled, to be possessed completely.”
“I...” My mouth had gone dry. I wet my lips and saw his gaze follow the movement. “I don’t...”
“There’s no shame in desire, Evelyn,” he said. “It’s as natural as breathing. The only sin is in denying it. But you can be honest with me. Tell me, Evelyn. What do you wish he’d do to you?”
I stared at him, my heart racing, torn between revulsion and a dark, dangerous pull. This was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Drawing in a deep breath, I gathered myself. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve mastered those human desires. My body is not my own. I’ve taken vows. Made a vow to God. Desire... indulging in it... breaks that promise.”
Ian shook his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Of course. You’ve mastered your desires. How are you doing with the sin of pride? Any improvements?”
I stared at him, shifting in my chair and smoothing the skirt down, unsettled by how much I’d revealed. The sin of my admission was profoundly real, even in the dream’s illogical reality.
Suddenly, Ian pushed himself up from the desk’s edge and flicked a bit of dust off the fabric of his suit jacket, extending a hand out toward me. Hesitantly, I reached for it, the coolness of his skin a contrast to my own. The silence of the shadowed office hung heavy as I attempted to peer into the now darkened room, the sudden sound of his voice making me jump.
“You’ve done well, Evelyn,” he said, playfully teasing but with genuine warmth.
And with that, he strode to the door and was gone, leaving me alone with the sinful echoes of his words... and the heat still pulsing through my veins.
The dream office dissolved around me, fading completely into darkness. But as I slipped back into unconsciousness, I heard his voice one last time, a silken promise whispered into my ear.
“Until next time, Evelyn.”
Then the darkness took me, and I fell once more into deep sleep.