Chapter Six
CAIN
Are all sins equal? Is a white lie the same as abandoning my celibacy?
The Book of Proverbs dictates that sins aren’t viewed equally in the eyes of God.
The punishment and severity are calculated based on what a person has done.
But, Christ sacrificed himself to cleanse our sins, did he not?
My prayers and pleading for forgiveness will have to do.
Or the Lord will have to judge me for my transgressions, however he deems appropriate.
“Father Cain…” Enya starts but cuts herself off, peering at me through the slat. Father doesn’t sound right out of her mouth anymore. I’ve grown accustomed to the way she calls me Daddy.
“Yes, Enya?” I get a nervous tingling every time I think about what just happened. My cock buried deep in Enya’s throat. My legs shiver and shake in my pants, undone and hanging from my hips.
“Are you upset at me?” her voice is humble and meek. “You haven’t said anything in a while.”
“No, I’m not upset at you. You’re fucking perfect. A virtue in this rotten world,” I reply. I believe it too, even if she has led me off the path. I buckle my belt and zip up my pants, before stepping out of the confessional.
Enya joins me at my side, still pulling her shirt overhead.
“But I tempted you,” she continues.
She sure did. She broke my spirit and crumbled me to nothing. She tormented me for weeks, walking into this church in skimpy outfits. She put herself on display and if I was a stronger man, I’d have fought her. But, I don’t want to fight her perfection. I want to spend every waking moment with her.
“No. I should’ve been stronger. But, I didn’t want to be. I never want to be without you, Enya.”
An overwhelming urge takes a hold of me.
I wrap a hand around Enya’s neck and pull her into me.
I meet her lips in a passionate kiss. Another first for me, and it drives me wild.
Her taste sends me into overdrive. I shove my tongue in her mouth, and it dances against hers.
My recently drained cock is starting to twitch again.
“I knew I wanted you, since I got to Priest River,” Enya whispers.
“The very first day I walked into this church, I expected to see an old man like the rest of them out there.” Enya waves her hand towards the entrance of the church.
“But when I saw your hunky, muscular form, I wanted you. I needed you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. ”
She pauses momentarily, pulling out of my arms. Her big puppy-dog eyes look deep into mine. “What happens from here?”
“From now on, you’re mine,” I growl. If this is what’s happening, it’ll happen my way. Enya’s had her fun. She’s claimed me. Now it’s my turn.
“Yours?” her cheeks flush as red as her hair.
“Yes, Enya. I won’t share you with anyone,” I reply. “You’re the first and only woman I’ll be with, I want to be with. You’ve awoken something inside me, Enya Garraway. A terrible monster I’ve kept hidden for years.”
I pause, cupping Enya’s cheek in my hand. “You are mine, now, do you understand?”
“I am yours,” she replies. My heart swells with pride at her admission. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
I can see the desire burning in her eyes, to ask more. To find out what I mean by my hidden demons. But, she won’t, not right now. I lean in, peppering her forehead in kisses. She giggles, a bright smile beaming on her face. God help me, she’s beautiful.
“I don’t want to go home,” she says, clutching my hand on her face. “Can I stay here with you?”
“Not yet,” I reply. “We can’t have too many heads turning in our direction.”
“To hell with them,” Enya whispers.
“To hell, indeed,” I reply. “But these people are savages. If they get a whiff of my behavior, it’ll be a shitshow. I’ll follow the proper channels to get out, and then nothing will stop us from being together.”
The fire in my heart dies down as tears well in Enya’s eyes. She finally broke me and I’m telling her to wait? I can understand her reaction. I have to be cautious. I’ve already disgraced God, I can’t invite his temper further by shutting down this loyal community. Not immediately.
“How long did you know I was outside your window on Sunday night?” I shift the conversation, trying to lighten the mood.
“Since you got over the wall,” she replies with a smirk.
“That long?” I’ve gotten rusty, old, and slow. A terrible combination. “Why didn’t you let me know?”
“Because I wanted to give you a show,” she winks, taking my hand and interlocking our fingers. “You say I’m yours, Daddy? Well, I say you’re mine.”
“Those are dangerous words,” I tug on Enya’s arm pulling her against my body. Her breasts brush against my chest, hard nipples poking against my abs.
“I like a little bit of danger.” Enya’s teeth sink into her lower lip. “Why do you think I tempted a priest?”
“Funny,” I reply. I shove a hand around her back and squeeze her firm ass. A gasping moan rumbles through her.
“Father Jameson, are you here?” Bethany DeWitt’s shrill voice breaches the church door. “I need to speak with you immediately.”
Enya pulls away from me before I can react. I remain stunned in place. She’s going to be better at hiding it than I am.
“Yes, Bethany, I’m here,” my voice comes out strained.
“Good.” Her rotund form steps into the church. “Oh, Enya, you’re here.”
“We were just finishing up,” Enya replies to Bethany. “He’s all yours.”
Sadly. I’d rather spend the rest of my afternoon with Enya on my lap.
“What can I help you with, Bethany?” I ask. Enya starts making her way towards the door nearly skipping with excitement.
“It’s that damned Marlon again, Father Jameson. That man’s driving me up the wall,” she replies, clutching her purse against her oversized breast. By the time she stops in front of me, she’s panting for air.
“Come on, tell me all about it.” I look over her shoulder at Enya. She gives me one final look, blowing me a kiss, and then she’s gone.
“It’s his drinking, Father. It’s hitting an all-time high.
I can’t stand it anymore. I need to confess my impure thoughts,” she says.
It’s either very bad or Bethany’s overreacting.
If she’s here on Wednesday instead of her usual Thursday, I suspect overreaction.
Her confessions are often a way to vent, more than trying to find any sense of forgiveness.
“In the booth?” I enquire.
“Where else would we do it? Out here where anyone can hear us?” Bethany scoffs.
“Let’s get on with it then,” I reply, leading her towards the confessional stand.
***
Bethany DeWitt’s rude interruption broke me away from Enya and was an incredible inconvenience. I am getting comfortable with my new situation. Contemplating the wrath of God is one thing, but do I fear it? Yes and no.
I know what I’ve done and what it means moving forward. I will leave the priesthood, relinquish my vows, and become… ordinary. In some distant future, I will return to a parish and confess my sins, asking for absolution for them.
Enya’s mine and I will never look back. Weeks of turmoil were reduced to dust after a single splendid afternoon with her. If God’s wrath extends from this world into the next, I will face his decision on my Judgment Day. For now, I will live my life with the woman who’s claimed my heart.
A warm wind hits me, as I watch Bethany DeWitt drive past Saint Catherine’s Weeping Angel statue and towards the road.
She spent an hour and a half in the confessional, blabbing all sorts of nonsense about Marlon.
When Bethany’s finally disappeared down the road, my thoughts return to Enya.
After the revelation we shared, I won’t make it through the night without seeing her again.
I waste a couple of hours eating dinner and waiting for the moon.
Once the sun’s down, I get in my Lincoln Continental and start the short journey into Priest River.
I’d have walked to keep my anonymity, but the longing is killing me.
I park a few houses down from Enya’s, and turn my headlights off.
There’s still movement in the street. A woman is walking back from the store with paper bags clutched in their arms like two little babies.
Not that she needs any more, considering the three trailing behind her.
Two houses over, a man’s sitting on his porch in a rocking chair, smoking a cigarette.
Finally, a family is lighting up a barbecue to cook their evening meal.
Of course, the one night I’m most eager to see Enya, and the street’s alive. I spend a few hours flicking through a Stephen King novel from the glove box. A fine read that doesn’t hold my interest very long.
As late evening turns into night, the street goes quiet. The last of the flock return to their homes and lock up their doors.
Thank you, Lord.
Before I can get out of my car, two men step out of a white van that’s been parked outside the Garraway house since I arrived on their street.
They’re muscular, in tight shirts and baggy jeans.
An overhanging streetlamp blinks periodically giving me a better view of them.
One, who’s holding a brown bag like the mother from earlier, has a Mohawk atop his head.
The last remnants of washed-out green still stain the bleached blond spikes.
The second is bald and sweaty, and although he’s muscular, his belly sticks out from underneath his shirt.
“What do we have here?” I lean over the steering wheel, squinting to get a better view of them.
They don’t speak as they approach the Garraway house.
Mohawk slides his hand into the paper bag, and draws a white dove from it.
The bald guy stands at the front door, blocking it, while Mohawk ties the dove by the feet to the banister of the narrow porch.
Once they’ve completed their task, both hurry back to their van and get inside.
Another bump in the road to seeing Enya, tonight.
An annoyed sigh follows this thought, as I start my engine and tail the van.
We make the 15-minute drive from Priest River to Newport in eight.
The van pulls into an alleyway, and the two men get out.
They walk in through the back entrance of a small building, nestled between a veterinary clinic and a loan dealer.
What do you want with the Garraways? I wonder, driving past the two suspicious men, before getting back on the road to Priest River. Whatever these two are up to, I’ll have to keep a close eye on them.
Especially if it involves my Enya.