Chapter 17 - Absolution

 

Chapter 17. Absolution

Father Cullen

"Thanks for… this."

"This?" I ask as she kneels before me.

"Yeah." Bella's fingers slowly work the zipper. Her hand glides against me. The friction makes me harder than I thought possible. She whispers, "This."

I close my eyes as she pulls at my jeans. I hear her sigh. I feel her hot breath against the sensitive skin.

And then her lips surround me.

Soft. Warm. Wet.

Without warning, she takes all of me in her mouth, and the tip of my dick hits the back of her throat.

"Jesus."

She hums as her mouth moves up then down my entire length.

She sucks.

She licks.

Her teeth graze.

Her hands slide up my legs, leaving goosebumps behind.

I press one hand against the confessional, the other combs through her hair.

I try to breathe.

I thrust as her mouth moves forward.

Then slightly faster.

The sensation of both pain and pleasure start to take hold.

She doesn't stop.

"Bella."

She hums again, and my hips move, more urgently.

She knows what I need more than I do.

Then my breath catches and she takes all of me again as I cum.

"Fuck."

I blink and we're on the pulpit, the entire congregation watching. Judging me. Judging Bella. Ben Cheney leers as he holds Angela's hand. Charlie Swan covers his eyes as Mrs. Swan weeps.

Jasper places a hand on my shoulder and glances down at Bella. "Her body is a temple, Edward. You should always put her pleasure before your own."

Church bells toll and the pews begin to empty. Bella gazes up at me. Then the bells are louder, incessant. They sound… like my alarm.

I struggle to open my eyes.

I stare up at the ceiling.

I'm not in St. Mary's. There are no parishioners. Bella is not on her knees before me. I'm both disappointed and grateful.

I throw an arm over my eyes and feel pangs of guilt.

For the fantasy of defiling not only the house of God, but Bella as well.

"Christ."

xXxXx

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

St. Luke's parish is about five miles from St. Mary's. I visit every so often to get away from the noise of my own parish, to be anonymous.

To get absolution.

I could have asked Jasper to hear my confession today. He'd have been happy to oblige.

I could have. But I didn't.

Couldn't.

Not yet.

"It's been twelve days since my last confession." Twelve hours since I kissed Bella. Two since I woke up in a sweat.

That kiss sparked something in me that never existed before.

Something I want sparked again.

God help me.

I give the sign of the cross.

"Go on, my son," the older priest says. His voice is low. It's rhythmic and soothing like he's been saying these words for a century and he knows how to use them.

I used to know how to use them. I used to imagine myself, much like him, still doing this fifty years from now. Today, I'm not so sure.

"I…" Words get hung up in the back of my throat. I have no idea how to say what I'm supposed to say. And I hate that I feel guilty about something that felt so fucking fantastic.

That kiss.

It left me weightless. Speechless.

I close my eyes and I hear her saying my name. Whispering it. I see her eyes pleading with me. I feel her lips touching mine.

I think about how I very desperately wanted her to touch me. How I couldn't bring myself to do the same because if I had, Christ, I wouldn't have been able to stop.

She said she wouldn't apologize for that kiss, and I didn't want her to. But that dream made my own guilt abundantly clear.

So why can't I get the words out?

"I kissed a woman," I finally say. Out loud. And the words fall flat. They sound generic and meaningless.

Bella's anything but meaningless.

And that kiss … was anything but generic.

"Go on," he says, nudging me to spill my guts.

"I've had impure thoughts."

I laugh. Because they're beyond impure. They're filthy.

And his silence is torture.

I replay those few minutes with Bella in the confessional again.

Leaning in.

Pressing my lips against hers.

Mouths opening.

Tongues touching.

Her neck. Her shoulder.

My entire body came alive with just one kiss.

Fuck.

"I can't get her out of my head, Father," I finally add. "I don't think I want to."

"I see."

The judgmental tone of his voice has me thinking maybe he knows who I am. He doesn't say any more and I'm not about to confirm his suspicions.

I clasp my hands in front of me and lean my forehead against them, and I hear Bella's voice again, just before that kiss.

Edward.

I remember the text she sent me last night.

You're a really good priest.

I let out a frustrated sigh. I'm not convinced I am because coming from Bella it feels more like an indictment than a compliment.

"I don't know where I fit anymore." The words just kind of spill out. It's a confession I hadn't planned to make. One I hadn't known I needed to make. But it's been there, in the back of my thoughts, since the day I met her.

"The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way," he tells me, quoting Psalms.

"That's just it." I laugh. And it's bitter. "He's not establishing anything."

"He will," the older man assures me. "In his own time."

His tone is pompous and arrogant, and I'm losing my patience. I don't know why I thought I could have an actual conversation in confession.

"I don't f-" I stop myself from being disrespectful. "I don't have time, Father."

Bella will be gone soon, back on tour. I need to make this right before she leaves.

"Psalms promises, the heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his -"

"Jesus Christ," I huff, and when the good Father gasps, I go ahead and finish my thought. "Stop handing out textbook answers for crying out loud. I need more than…" No. Screw that. "People need more than that."

Done with trying to find some peace, I push open the confessional door and leave, disappointed in the priest of St. Luke's.

Disappointed in the entire Catholic Church.

In God.

But mostly, disappointed in myself.

xXxXx

At St. Mary's, I try to get some things done but my heart isn't in it. Every time I step into the sanctuary, I see the confessional and regret washes over me.

I wish I'd have handled things differently last night.

I wish I hadn't let her go.

I wish I'd followed her outside. And while I might not want to admit it, somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, I really wish she'd taken me between her lips the way she did in my dreams.

I wish I had an easy answer for all of this. For me. For her. For us.

She slipped into my pew in the exact moment I was asking God for a sign.

She had one request.

Just one.

To give confession.

And I somehow managed to fuck that up.

I think about the pain I saw in her eyes when she asked, about the tears she tried to hide.

All this time I've been encouraging her, wanting her to open up. Wanting to be the person she could count on to help her through whatever's been troubling her. I wasn't prepared for how I would react when she finally did.

And then there's Ben.

It's been a long time since I've wanted to hurt one of God's children.

When I reflect on all the sinners I've counseled, I've always been able to remain an empathetic listener. It's never felt this personal. I've never been driven to seek retribution. I've never wanted to take God's justice into my own hands.

I know I should do what's right in the eyes of God. I know I should pray to St. Maria Goretti and ask her to give me peace. To give me the strength to forgive.

I'm just not sure I have it in me. Because, really, am I any better than Ben?

Bella came to me for help.

She needed me.

Whether I was her priest or her friend, I failed her. I didn't give her advice. I didn't give her hope. Instead I took something I had no right to take.

Maybe I thought I would do the right thing. I wanted to do the right thing. It's all I could think about leading up to that moment.

Just before that kiss.

Just before her lips touched mine and made something that should have been the worst thing I could have done become the best thing I've ever experienced.

Fuck.

"Fuck."

I rub my eyes and tell myself there has to be a way to make this right.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off," I tell the church's secretary as I pass by her desk.

Her head pops up from behind her file cabinets. "What about your one o'clock?"

"Reschedule it," I answer over my shoulder.

Before I head for the rectory, I glance around, hoping maybe Bella's come back. Hoping she hasn't. Praying I do the right thing, this time, if she does. Whatever that is.

There's no need for concern though. She's not here.

xXxXx

Edward.

I've replayed Bella's voice, saying my name, and the kiss that followed a million times by the time Jasper makes his way inside the house. I'm not sure where he's been all morning. I'm not sure I care.

He spots the cigarette in my hand and we lock eyes for a few seconds before he makes a beeline toward the fridge.

"I take it you could use a cold one." He grabs two. "Rough day already?"

I take the beer and put the cigarette out. I was done anyway.

The alcohol is all good going down, which is why I proceed to drink the entire beer.

"That bad, huh?"

He waits, like always.

When I finish it off, I set the empty bottle down and look up at my old friend. "I need to tell you something."

"Of course." He takes a seat across from me.

"First, though-" I eye him carefully. "Are you Bishop Whitlock or Jasper right now?"

"I'm whoever you need." His eyes are understanding. His voice is even. We've been here before. And he uses the same words I've used with Bella because I've learned from the best. And I'm grateful he's here with me.

I don't respond yet, because honestly, his answer isn't good enough. And when he sees I'm not in any kind of a debating, or joking, or sane mood, he changes his tune.

"I'm Jasper," he tells me with all seriousness, leaning back in his chair.

And now it's enough.

"I kissed her." I exhale like I've been holding my breath for an eternity. Maybe I have been. Maybe since a week ago.

Jasper doesn't say anything at first. It's like we're back at St. Vincent's, staring each other down to see who's gonna break first, in the middle of some dumb ass argument about some dumb ass shit that doesn't mean anything to anyone but the two of us and God.

Even when he's silent, talking with Jasper feels much different from talking to the priest at St. Luke's. His love and acceptance are unconditional and irrevocable.

I should have started with Jasper.

He stays quiet for a minute. Or maybe an hour. I don't know. It's hard to tell when my mind is back in a dark, dank box, kissing a woman who makes me want to be less of a priest and more of a man.

Jasper nods his head like he's come to some sort of conclusion and then he taps the table with his knuckles.

"I think I'm gonna add your name to the list of hopefuls for that diocese over in Italy."

"What?" Not how I expected him to react or how I wanted him to.

"Just in case," he says, typing a note into his phone. Sending a text. Committing me to Europe, for all I know. "You never know where God's gonna lead you with this, whatever it is." He sets his cell down and looks me in the eyes.

"That sounds more like a Bishop Whitlock kind of thing to do. I thought you said-"

"It's also something a good friend would do." He shrugs. "To give you options."

He's got me on a technicality.

And yeah, he means well. That doesn't mean it makes me feel any better about it. I stare at the floor as my insides churn with anxiety.

"You can't be everything to everyone, you know," he tells me.

I nod. "I know."

"Especially not with this. Not with her."

I don't disagree but I don't exactly agree with him either. I may not know how to reconcile all of this right now, but I know I don't want to abandon Bella.

"You can't be the girl's priest and the reason she needs one, Edward."

I'd forgotten just exactly how naked Jasper can make me feel. It's like I'm wearing nothing but my emotions.

I take a long, deep, shaky breath. Because fuck. "I know."

"And you can't make a sound decision when you're so close to her that you can't see the big picture." He hesitates for dramatic effect. "God's picture."

I nod. I know. But I can't say it. Not out loud. Not this time.

"I'm here for you," he reminds me, leaning over to clap me on the shoulder. "Should we pray?"

And Bishop Whitlock is officially back.

I give him a weak smile. "I feel like that's all I've been doing lately, Jasper. So, no."

He purses his lips. I can't tell if he's disappointed in my answer. Not that it matters at this point.

"I'm here for that too, then," he tells me as he stands. He gives my shoulder a squeeze as he starts to go. At the stairs, he stops and turns to me again. "Edward?"

I look over at him.

"You need to talk to her. Regardless."

And yeah, I know.

Jasper doesn't come back downstairs again until he's on his way out to meet up with some deacons for an evening class on leadership. He doesn't bother asking if I'd like to join him.

As the sun goes down and the room darkens, I sit contemplating everything that's led me to where I am. It would be easy to wish Bella had never stepped into the confessional at St. Mary's.

But I can't wish her away.

Because every day since we met, I look forward to seeing her smile, hearing her voice, watching her laugh.

She's irreverent, improper, unguarded.

She's apologetic but unapologetic all at once.

I wouldn't exchange any of it for anything.

But maybe I shouldn't have told her we could be friends. Maybe that was too ambitious.

God brought her to me last night. He showed me she needed guidance. Not a kiss.

But, fuck, I don't know how to not be her friend. I don't know how to not want her.

There's no un-ringing that bell.

There is something I can do about how we move forward though.

And maybe that includes me trying to be a good priest.

Hey I type and then, despite my nerves, I hit send.

Bella answers my text almost right away.

Hey there - she replies. Priesting out?

And just like that, I'm Edward again. Concerns about biblical consequences fly out the window. I want to see her again and hold her hand, kiss her in the light of day.

Not exactly. Are you still okay? God please let her be okay.

I don't think okay covers it really.

I'm pretty sure I know how she feels.

I think we might have found another one of your super powers last night- she texts. Nice work keeping that one on the DL

I shake my head at the screen. Christ, do I want to kiss her. Give it another shot. See if I could do even better a second time around.

I don't think I'm the only one with super powers- I text back.

Yeah. You know me. Super messy.

You're not- I tell her.

She doesn't answer this time. She starts to. I see the bubbles on the screen but then they stop long enough for me to realize - I'm doing it again. I'm lost in another dream of the two of us together. So before she can say anything, I text her again.

Can I see you tomorrow?

Yeah?... Yeah :-) - she texts back.

My heart speeds up and my stomach tightens. Every time I'm with her it's like this, even over a text.

Where- she asks. And DO NOT suggest your box. Off the table for us.

I bite my lip and I don't know why I'm trying so hard not to smile. She can't see me.

But as much as I want to joke around with her about boxes and drinking games and things that are off the table for us, I don't.

I suggest a coffee shop over in Coney Island.

She agrees.

And I just hope I can pull myself together enough to be a good priest. For her sake, if not for mine.