Chapter Ten
Seven Years Ago
Wren
“Girl, I’m so proud of you!” Tilly’s squeals on the other end of the phone. “So, now what? Can we move to Alaska together, find two big lumberjacks, build cabins side by side, and let them fill us up with babies?”
“Umm, yeah, actually. We can do that right after I figure out how to stop thinking about Father Anderson.”
“Oh no.” I hear her grin through the phone line. “He got to you. I told you he’s hot.”
“He is,” I finally admit, “and he’s super kind. We never stop talking. Did you know his dad was a logger too?”
“No, but I’ll have someone add it to the fanfiction that’s floating around on the internet.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope! Someone named ‘Lotus Flower’ is writing it. She doesn’t explicitly say it’s Father Anderson, but I’ve been told he has all the same tattoos, in all the same places. So… it’s a pretty safe bet to say he’s Father Anderson.”
I have no idea what to think about that. I mean, sure, we admitted to having an attraction to each other, but that doesn’t mean anything. It can’t mean anything, and truth be told, I’ve already crossed too many lines.
“Where’d you go?” Tilly laughs. “Do you want the link to the stories?”
“No,” I pause, “that would be weird. I don’t want to read some other woman’s fantasy about a priest. I was just wondering who it could be.”
“Sizing up the competition?”
“No. No. No. That’s not what I’m doing.”
“The fact that you said no three times in a row tells me that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
A breeze blows, knocking a few red leaves off the maple tree in the front yard of the church. “No, I’m not sizing up my competition. I’m thinking about what I’m going to do with Zane.”
“Because you have to clear the way for Father Anderson.”
“Will you stop!” I laugh and clear my throat. “I said he’s hot, that’s all. I’m not blind.”
“What’s left to think about with Zane? You broke up with him. Has he contacted you?”
“He texted me this afternoon, but it was super simple, and I know he doesn’t mean it.”
“What did he say?”
“He just agreed with me.”
“So, what’s the problem then? Sounds like everything is going the way you want it to.”
“Maybe.” I shrug and twist my finger through my hair as I lean against the picnic table and stare out into the street, watching a man walk his golden retriever, or rather, the golden retriever walking the man.
“I don’t trust it, though. He just said ‘okay then, enjoy your life.’ Don’t you think that’s weird? ”
“No, I think it means ‘it’s over and you should enjoy your life.’ Have you contacted a lawyer?”
“I sent an email to a guy back home that’s a family friend. He said he’d have the paperwork over to Zane by the end of the day.”
“Damn, he moves fast. Why do people complain so much about divorces taking so long?”
“I’m not asking for anything. I want a clean out.”
“But some of that money is owed to you. You’re going to need it to start over.”
“I know,” I sigh, the scent of cinnamon in the air, though I can’t gauge where it’s coming from, “but I know Zane, and the easier I make this, the more likely he is to sign and be done.”
I know Tilly wants to lecture me, but I hear her bite back the advice, which I appreciate. “You know you have me if you need anything. A place to stay, a meal, whatever. I’ve got you.”
“I know you do. Thank you, babe.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve currently got my rental ripped apart. There’s no running water, and the electricity is shotty.”
“What the hell?”
“I guess a root grew into the water line or something, so my brother has been out in the yard since he got off his shift. He’s trying to help me out while the landlord is out of state.
We’ll see if it works. Don’t forget, he’s got your back too.
The sheriff has loads of pull. If Zane gives you trouble, I’ll put him on it. ”
I know she means well, though I know a small-town cop like her brother wouldn’t scare Zane. Not when he has congressional leaders for buddies.
“Thank you. Right now, I’m ignoring the whole thing and doing some work with the church. It’s been therapeutic for me.”
“I’m sure it has.” She shifts her tone upward as she says, “Did Father Andersons sit in on this meeting?”
“No.” I shake my head. “He was busy today. That’s why he asked me to do the job. It’s helping alleviate all the stress he’s under. I had no idea how much work a priest actually does. He’s doing a nursing home visit right now. I don’t know how he keeps everything straight.”
“I’m jotting that down too. I think it’ll make the fanfiction sound more lived-in.”
“Are you Lotus Flower?”
“Please! Don’t insult me. If I were Lotus Flower, these stories would have way more heart. Whoever’s writing this went pure smut mode. Every addition is some weird thing this priest is into.”
“Is there a single love interest?”
“Yeah. It’s this girl… umm… blonde hair, big tits, wears all these colorful dresses, drives a convertible.”
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“I know who Lotus Flower is.”
“Who is it?”
I shake my head and stare up at the sky, the cool fall air filtering through my lungs. “I can’t say.”
“What?” Tilly exclaims. “What do you mean you can’t say? You can’t drive me straight to the edge and leave me hanging.”
“I don’t want to make it weird for the person who wrote it, and I really can’t confirm anything. It could be anyone.”
“Or it could be exactly who you think it is. Plus, would I know this person?”
“No, but you’ll tell someone, and they’ll tell someone, and before anyone knows it, the whole state will know who wrote it.”
“If it’s that obvious, then maybe she wants everyone to know.”
“Maybe,” I say, wiping a Cheshire grin off my face as Father Anderson pulls into the driveway on his bike, the loud engine roaring as my clit throbs. “I gotta go, though.”
“Oh my God, I hear the man’s bike. You’re living Lotus Flower’s dream. I hope you appreciate that.”
“I’ll call you later. Love you.”
“Love you more,” she says, disconnecting the line.
“How was the nursing home?” I say, anchoring myself to the picnic table instead of wrapping my arms around his shoulders like I want to.
He nods once. “Good. I always love talking to the folks up there. I think I learn something new every time I visit. How was the volunteer group?”
“Oh,” I brush my hair back away from my face and stare down at my notebook, “it went great. I have six people coming tomorrow to paint the church, and Mary Thompson has a grandson who’s apprenticing with a roofer.
He put new shingles on for her last year.
He’s going to bring a small crew out on Saturday to replace everything. ”
He drags his hand down over the salt and pepper beard, the cross inked on the back of it suddenly like a warning. “Where are we getting the shingles?”
“Yeah,” I say, standing from the table, “I left that part out. Umm… the volunteer group all chipped in a few hundred dollars. Mary said her grandson could get the shingles at a discount, so we have plenty to cover materials. After we get these projects squared away, we’re going to work on the windows.
Your mom said something about the stories they used to tell.
She showed me some of the old ones in the basement. ”
“They’re beautiful, but they’re broken, and I think they’re too fragile to go back up.”
“Maybe… but I told her I’d call a glass restoration company and see if there’s anything they can do.”
He nods toward me, his stance wide, his gaze fixed. “I’m impressed.”
“With what? It’s the volunteers that made everything happen.”
“Yeah, because they like you. People like you. You’re magnanimous.”
My chest swells. “I think they did it for the church. They’re great people. Very invested.”
“But they hadn’t done anything until you rallied them.” He holds his hand out and I land mine inside of his, the calluses on his palm scratchy against my skin. “Thank you for all the work you’ve done. We’re lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to be here,” I say, my hand still resting in his. “Should we go to your mom’s house? She told me before she left to come around five.”
“Are you sure you want to go? She can be a lot. We could move some things around in the rectory and do a movie night, or something else to get your mind off everything. That assumes you don’t want to be alone. If you do, I could rent you a room at the local inn. It’s a nice little place.”
“No,” I say, heart hammering. “I’ve been looking forward to dinner with your mom. She’s sweet, and I’m excited to make her scones. Baking is an escape for me. It’ll be fun.”
He nods slowly and squeezes my hand in his, his eyes on mine like they’re on fire. “If you change your mind while we’re there, just blink twice or something. I’ll pick up on it and get you out immediately.”
“Thank you,” I say respectfully, forcing every thought of filth out of my brain as I stare at him.
He grabs the helmet off the picnic table and steps toward me. “May I?”
I nod, my heart racing the closer he gets, my clit throbbing the more I smell him, my thighs aching as his rough fingers swipe the side of my face.
I’m in serious trouble.