Chapter 50 Ezra
EZRA
Isit in the third pew of my church, an open Bible on my lap. I've finished morning lauds, but I haven't continued with the rest of my required prayers. I haven't said the words that will consecrate today's work to God or begun the daily devotional.
My faith fails me this morning.
I've lost my way … again.
Xade found me on the roof last night, and I couldn't avoid him. Maybe I don't want to avoid him anymore.
I've tried to keep my distance, to find my way back toward God. And I can't do that when he's near, but I don't want to be away from him either.
The days have been cold, long, and miserable.
Seeing Xade, spending time with him again, felt like a breath of fresh air after being caught by the current. It reminded me what it was like to be near my friend, to be anchored by his orbit, but it also reminded me of her.
And them.
And all the things they do together.
Salacious, obscene things with sweat-slickened limbs, hot breath, and … Remember your duty, Ezra!
They shall be holy to their God and not profane the name of their God.—Leviticus 21:6.
I drown my thoughts beneath the word of the Lord, repeating the verse in my head until every other thought extinguishes.
I don't judge Ezra or Avalynne. It's not my place. After all, I am merely an instrument of divine hands, and I, too, am far from perfect.
Maybe it's judgment that drew my line in the sand and made me keep my distance from Xade.
Liar.
Fine, if I'm being honest with myself, it's all that's been risked by his relationship with Avalynne.
More lies. It's the thought of their hipbones knocking together, their teeth scraping against flesh, their …
STOP!
God itself can't save me from my impious thoughts this morning.
I can't get them out of my head, my oldest friend and my little dove together in the most carnal of acts.
I blame it on guilt and my brain punishing me for not being there when Avalynne needed me most. I promised to protect her, but I wasn't even on the island when Georgina hurt her.
I was selfish. I left Saint Margaret's not because the Church ordered me to do so, but because I couldn't stand the temptation of being around her. Then I kept my distance from Xade because I couldn't face the truth of knowing that they found comfort in each other instead of me.
I am weak.
I look up at the large crucifix hung high on the northern wall and the blood dripping from the crown of thorns. Daybreak's light shines through the stained glass and stretches sparkling rainbows across the timeworn pews.
Tongues licking, fingernails raking …
I stand abruptly.
I have to stop this … this … guilt punishing me. I haven't made amends with Avalynne. I have to speak with her and make this right. For her. For Xade. For me and my God.
I start through the cathedral, the sound of my steps reverberating against the vaulted ceiling, and use both hands to push open one of the front doors.
I know Avalynne and Xade go on their little walks through the woods most mornings.
I follow the trail I've seen them take, through the forest and around Saint Margaret's.
My loafers crunch against rocky topsoil, and minutes later, lost among the trees, I am rewarded by the sight of a swaying strawberry-blonde ponytail disappearing around a bend in the trail. I hasten my steps.
As I draw closer, I realize Xade isn't with Avalynne today.
She's alone, and, nearing the rocky bluffs, she slows.
She plants her hands on her hips and tilts her head back to the overcast sky.
Her ponytail swings between her shoulder blades as she stops moving, closing her eyes as she breathes.
She wears winterized exercise gear with neoprene sleeves down her arms and over her legs, hugging her every curve.
"Avalynne," I say to her, and she jumps, startling before she spins to face me.
She doesn't say anything, and I dare to inch a little closer. Still, she doesn't back away, and I seize my chance.
"Please," I tell her, raising my hands. "There's something I need to say."
Her mouth opens and closes, like she wants to tell me to fuck off, but, thank the Lord, she doesn't.
I keep my palms raised and draw closer until I spot the sweat darkening the hair above her temples and the freckles spattered across her cheeks.
"Father," she begins, still breathless from her run.
I hold up a hand to stop her.
"Please," I start, "just hear me out. If not for yourself or for me, then for Xade because he's my friend, too." I bring my hand to my chest, above my heart. "I love him, too."
Where did that come from? And why did I just admit it to her?
A winding ache in my chest squeezes a little tighter, and I watch as indecision flickers across her face, before, thankfully, she relents. Her expression goes perfectly blank, and I inch closer. Ocean wind whips hair loose from her ponytail, and I stop when we stand in front of each other.
"I'm sorry, Avalynne," I tell her. "I'm sorry for all of it. For Georgina. For the way you were treated. For everything that happened because I wasn't here."
She frowns but lets me continue. More words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
"I miss the way you used to look at me," I admit. Her bottom lip falls, her mouth parting. "Like you could actually stand my existence. I don't expect forgiveness, but I will do anything I can to make it right."
She swallows, digesting my confession, and peers out at the ocean for an excruciating moment.
"I thought you were my friend," she murmurs.
A thousand words bubble at the back of my throat.
I want to tell her the truth, to share everything, to explain.
I don't.
"I am so sorry," I tell her. "I know my word is worthless, but Georgina will never harm you again, Avalynne. She, in her own misguided way, thinks what she's doing is for the best, but it doesn't make it right."
Her lips purse into a frown, and I realize I'm on the verge of losing her again. She doesn't want to hear Georgina's reasons.
My pulse thrums between my ears, and I am lost, on the edge of panic, and caught somewhere between the sugary scent of her and the salt of the sea.
"I'm terrible at this, at talking to people," I admit, releasing a shaky breath.
"That's a poor quality for a priest," she quips.
"It's exactly what makes me a good priest. I'm accustomed to being alone."
She frowns and looks over at me. She doesn't say anything.
"For what it's worth," I continue, "I'm truly sorry, Avalynne."
She studies me, and my skin warms as she reads the planes of my face, almost as though she's trying to discern if I'm telling the truth.
"I know you are," she tells me.
"You deserve a better friend than me."
"You're hardly a friend at all, Father Damienne."
"Please don't do that. Call me Ezra."
Serpent-tongued whispers tumble through the forefront of my brain, asking how many other ways I'd like to hear her say my name.
"You were hardly a friend at all, Ezra," she remarks.
"I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you."
She shakes her head, her gaze still on me. "You can't turn back time."
"If I could, I'd rewind it to the moment I first set eyes on you."
Her lips part, and something akin to pain flits across her features. I can't breathe. My heart pounds, and I can no longer hear my God beneath its drum.
What is she doing to me?
More words spill from my mouth of their own accord. "What do you need to forgive me?"
"I don't know." She breaks eye contact and looks back out at the sea. Cold, salty air fills my lungs.
"I know my grandfather approves of the punishments Reverend Mother doles out," she murmurs, her gaze locked on the horizon. "There's a lot of blame to go around, more than enough to share."
I swallow, sweat popping up at the nape of my neck. Winter wind nips at Avalynne's exposed cheeks, turning them a rosy pink, and combs through the strands of hair free of her ponytail.
She's breathtaking. Beautiful.
I remember my place.
I join her, looking out at the sea and the nothingness on the horizon.
"I think my being a terrible friend started back at the orphanage," I blurt.
She blinks at me, surprised. "You were at an orphanage?"
"The Saint Jerome Emiliani Home for Orphaned and Abandoned Children," I recite mechanically. "I was dropped off on the doorstep with a note and a Bible at three days old. All I have ever known is the church."
Why am I telling her this?
Because you are desperate for her forgiveness.
She blanches. "I'm so sorry."
"There's no need to apologize. Anyway, it led me to who I am today."
"And who is that?"
I lift two fingers to my collar.
"Wait," she huffs a soft laugh, "so you're saying it's not your fault that you're a terrible friend? Blame your upbringing, instead?"
"No." I shake my head. "I take full responsibility for being a terrible friend. I'm pretty sure I was born one, but you could say that my upbringing didn't help matters."
"Why tell me then?"
"Perhaps I was fishing for a little grace," I admit. "It's not easy for me to connect with people. After we lost Jonathan, Xade's brother, I couldn't … I guess what I am saying is I don't know how to do this, Avalynne. I don't know how to be there for you."
Her brow furrows. "I didn't know Xade had a brother."
Why did I say that? Why does she turn me into a bumbling teenager?!
"Xade doesn't speak about Johnathan often," I clarify quickly. "It was hard for him, for all of us, when Jonathan …"
Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
I close my mouth and look out at the sea again. "What I'm trying to say is it's hard for me to connect with people. I'm a shitty friend, and I'm sorry."
Her brows pinch together again, and she side-eyes me. "I thought priests couldn't curse."
"Well, I just did."
It earns me the slightest of smiles, and she leans toward me. It's subtle, more a sway than anything, but it makes my skin heat.
Bible verses flutter through my mind, reminding me of my devotion to another.
Saltwater hits the bluffs and sprays both of us. It glistens across her flesh, turning her mouth damp. God be damned, I have the crazy urge to kiss her, but I do what I do best. I lock down the emotion. Instead, I offer my hand and say, "Can we start over?"
She eyes my outstretched hand.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness, little dove," I tell her. "I'm asking for redemption, a chance to make it up to you. That's all."
It's an oath I shouldn't make, one I have no right to make. I make it anyway.
A zap of electricity shoots down my spine as she accepts my outstretched hand.
"Ezra," I say to her with the handshake. "And your name?"
"Avalynne," she answers.
Smiling down at her, a Bible verse scuttles across the back of my brain.
For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other.—Galatians 5:17.
What have I done?