Chapter 29 - Advent

 

Chapter 29. Advent

Bella

I quietly slip into the back pew at St. Mary's. The lights are low. A small army of people assemble life size A, B, C's on the pulpit - Angela and Ben's initials.

My little sister's getting hitched.

To Ben Cheney.

Yuck.

I slide lower in my seat as the bridesmaids practice how to walk down the aisle. Why can't they just walk normally? They'd walk normally for my wedding. If I ever had one, that is. I've never been one to fantasize about a white dress and a ring. Didn't seem like my scene.

Still doesn't, strictly speaking.

Not in the traditional sense.

Not like this.

Maybe on a cliff overlooking the water.

Maybe just in a backyard.

Not that I'm thinking about it.

At all.

Ben smiles as Angela walks down the aisle with my dad. Tonight Ben is dutiful and devoted. I try to pretend it means something, but fail. Last night he told me he was sorry. He told me he wanted a clean slate. Yeah, he told it to me straight, while he ogled my tits.

Angela noticed too. It only made her hold his hand tighter. She sobbed and told me we'd always be sisters.

Tonight she's not crying. Tonight she's triumphant as my dad goes through the motions of giving her away. Meanwhile, my dad looks like he's the one who's about to lose it. His sniffles echo through the sanctuary.

He's the only reason I showed up for the rehearsal, and he's the only reason I'm going to this dinner afterwards. He told me he wanted his family together.

So here I am. Giving Dad what he needs. When he needs it.

Dad takes his seat and Edward takes over. Even tired and hungover, he looks gorgeous. Sure, his hair's kinda disheveled like he's been pulling at it from its roots, but if you ask me, it looks even hotter this way. He's patient when Eddie fusses and Emmett has to pass him off to Rose. Apparently he has another look in his playbook - a stern one he saves for the groomsmen when they start acting like twelve-year olds. They quiet the fuck up and my heart flutters. Then he starts speaking quietly to just Angela and Ben. He's really trying for them.

Sexy, stern, supportive man.

My feelings for him seem to grow by the minute. Just when I'm sure they're going to completely overwhelm me, my heart grows enough to handle them. I care about a person more than I ever knew possible.

I care enough that it hurts.

I keep trying to tell myself I have issues. I fell in love with someone completely unattainable. It's probably a defense mechanism. It may be because I'm broken.

Still, I don't feel broken when I'm with him. Nothing's ever felt simultaneously exciting and peaceful like it did last night, when it was just the two of us in each other's arms. I should probably just slip out of St. Mary's and take that feeling on the road with me. Remember it. Live with it.

Let it inspire me.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Listen, if You're real, shouldn't being here with Edward feel wrong and leaving feel right?"

I wait. For nothing.

"I don't want to hear it's Satan making this feel so fine because I only have room for one imaginary deity. This one-way conversation? It's happening thanks to the guy wearing the collar up there."

I wait, but divine intervention must be on pause for the evening.

When I open my eyes, Edward's politely listening to the wedding planner like he hasn't married dozens of couples. Then he catches me looking his way, and it feels like an invisible connection lights up between us. My heart pounds, my palms sweat, my entire body tingles. Even after he shifts his gaze.

"So this is on you, God. And if it's on you, why is it wrong?"

I wait for an answer, but I'm new to this God thing. Maybe He has other plans for His Friday night.

As Edward's explaining something to the couple before him, he reaches out and takes Angela's hand. She holds onto him like it's nothing, and I'm filled with irrational jealousy. I have a day and a half. I want every touch for myself. Every look.

Every kiss.

I want Edward hovering over me, staring into my eyes and telling me we're the same. I want him explaining with kisses how I'm as hot, as humble and as nerdy as he is. I want Edward sitting beneath me, his hands on my hips as he holds open my top. I want to sing him to sleep again to the rhythm of the waves. I want to wake up together to the first rays of sun over the water.

I want as much of him as I can get. But as much as I want, I'll only take what he's willing to give. It took every ounce of strength I could muster to put a stop to things last night.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when the sanctuary door bangs shut just behind me. The Cheneys slip into the back pew across the aisle. Mrs. Cheney averts her eyes when she catches me looking in her direction. She probably thought she was rid of me when I left home. Two can play at that game, lady. I thought I was rid of you too.

I slide out of the pew and out the side door of the sanctuary. I have better things to do with my time than to be loathed. I've got a new song I just can't let go of. So I take a seat on the steps, light a cigarette, and pull out my little notepad. Then I think about the man I love as I write.

xXxXx

"Bella?"

I'm startled, but by this point I know the voice. I'm not surprised when I look up and find Bishop Whitlock looming over me.

"Hey, Bishop. Long time no see."

His smile looks stiff. He's trying to look happy to see me. "What brings you here tonight?" And yeah, I guess I am lurking outside the church.

"Wedding rehearsal. Not mine, of course. That would be something, right? My sister Angela's tying the knot tomorrow."

He nods. "Right, right. I saw it on the schedule."

I smile back at him. He lingers.

I try not to let the fact he's a bishop completely unnerve me. This is the guy Edward loves and respects. He's Edward's family. I want to love his family as much as he seems to love mine.

I hold out my box of American Spirits. "Want a smoke?"

He holds up a hand. "No, thanks."

Of course. I debate putting out my cigarette, but I don't. I figure if Jesus hung out with prostitutes, bishops can hang with smokers.

"So… what're you up to tonight?" I wonder out loud.

Are Friday nights a thing for bishops? Do they stay up late and read bible verses?

"Sometimes taking a walk helps settle my mind. I put one foot in front of the other and it puts my thoughts in order. I could use some order this evening."

"That's cool. Don't let me keep you or anything."

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" he asks. He nods toward Bedford Ave like it's some long lost oasis.

And, no. I would not. I think my answer shows on my face. Bishop Whitlock's smile becomes a bit more stiff, but also more determined.

"I think the Lord put you in my path for a reason, Bella."

"The Lord is weird. I wouldn't trust Him."

The Bishop chuckles. "Edward said you had a sense of humor. Listen, I'm willing to chance it if you are." He manages to look patient and kind instead of judgmental.

I peer behind me at the church. There's a good half hour left before we have to head to the rehearsal dinner. I glance at the notebook in my hands. The lyrics I've been hearing aren't going anywhere. They've been playing over and over in my mind for the past couple of days. I hear them in my sleep.

"Maybe just around the block? My family's expecting me. I don't want to let them down."

xXxXx

The Bishop and I walk in silence for a while - past the houses of old friends, past corner stores, past my old high school. I try to tug at my sweater so it covers both my shoulders, but it's not cooperating. I settle for keeping the shoulder closest to him covered. After the last time I ran into him, he's going to think I can't even manage shirts, let alone life in general.

If he's bothered, he doesn't show it. He stays a safe distance away, looking ahead with his hands sunk deep in his pants pockets. I wonder if his footsteps are doing what he wanted with his thoughts.

My own thoughts stray to Edward, just like they always do these days. I'm dying to ask about him as a kid right after his parents died. Was he more angry or sad? Or was he relieved to put the abuse behind? Was he a troublemaker or did he brood? How in the world did he turn into the insightful, caring man I fell in love with?

"So, what brought you back to Brooklyn?" Bishop Whitlock asks as we wait at a stoplight.

"I'm on break from touring. There was Rose's baby. Angela's wedding."

"All blessings."

"At least two of the three." I leave it up to him to decide which is which.

"This your first break since leaving home?" he asks.

"Uh, no. This is my first official tour. Before this it was pretty much all break. Why?"

He shrugs. "Haven't noticed you around the church much before these past couple weeks."

I laugh a little. "I'm not strictly a believer. My mom forced me into confession when I got home a week or two ago. It's been a crazy, Catholic ride ever since."

I make a roller coaster kind of motion with my hand, but the Bishop's not amused. He stops a little ahead of me on the sidewalk. A tree blocks out the streetlight and casts him in shadow.

"That's actually what I was wondering... About this crazy, Catholic ride you're taking."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you at St. Mary's as much as you are these days to get closer to God? Or is it to get closer to Father Edward?"

My heart tries to leap out of my mouth, so I clench my jaw tight. I take half a step back, then stop. I've faced off against my share of men in my day and for much less important reasons.

"What if I'm there for both things?" I ask. "What if my relationship with Edward, I mean Father, is changing my relationship with… the universe, or God, or whatever you want to call it?"

"Is that what you think is happening here?"

I put my hands on my hips. "I think I'd know better than you."

The man starts walking again. I have to rush a little to catch up.

"He's a good priest. Don't hold me against him. Okay? I'll be gone in two days."

"You're right. He is a good priest. The best in the diocese, if you ask me."

"Who else would I ask?"

Bishop Whitlock quirks an eyebrow as he peers into my face.

"I mean, because you're his boss, and because you've known him for a really long time."

"Since he was a child," he adds.

I nod. "He told me. Since right after his parents died."

The Bishop studies me again, so I watch him right back. His eyes are pale blue. He's got a few lines at the corners of them and across his forehead, like he thinks a lot, or worries. Or both. His hair is graying at the temples.

He's old enough to be Edward's dad. In so many ways, he is.

I'm not surprised he doesn't like me. He's not the first dad to feel this way. But I'm talking about Edward here. I should treat this dad with respect.

I take a deep breath.

"He was so lucky you were there for him. If you weren't…" I shake my head.

If he wasn't, Edward would never have been there to help my family.

He would never have been there for me.

"His parents…" Bishop Whitlock starts to say, then clenches his jaw. He shakes his head.

"Edward told me all about them. About, well... Beethoven."

His eyes go wide. "He told you." It's not a question. It's a fact. One I won't deny. Then he drops his head like he's resigned. He holds his hands behind his back and starts walking again.

"It's hard to figure out how to handle a fifteen-year old kid who's never known unconditional acceptance, who doesn't know what it means to be loved. A kid like that's going to build walls to protect themself, but it leaves them very much alone."

I wonder if the Bishop is talking about Edward. Or if he's talking about me.

Then I remind myself it's not about me. This is more important. He's talking about the person who I might care about even more than myself.

"I get that," I tell Bishop Whitlock. "Maybe more than you know."

His smile is sad. "Then maybe you get how vulnerable a heart like that might be. How it could be swayed with the right words. With the right questions."

And yeah, maybe he's right again. Maybe that's what Edward did to me. Maybe it's what I did to Edward. I peer at the brownstones on my side of the street instead of looking at the Bishop. My eyes burn and I try blinking away unshed tears.

"Edward recognizes this vulnerability in others because he's seen it firsthand in himself. It's part of what makes him such an extraordinary priest. He judges less. He looks out for the underdog."

When I look back at Bishop Whitlock I can see it in his face.

He thinks Edward cares because I was so hopeless. So lost.

And because I was so hopeless and lost, I fucked up a priest in the process.

Our steps slow as we round a corner and see St. Mary's again. Bishop Whitlock nods toward the church. It's all dark gray stone, with it's polished wooden doors and its bell tower - taller than any of the other buildings on the block.

"It took a lot to get Edward where he is today. A lot of work for me. A lot of work for him. He's found a good place for himself at St. Mary's. There's no telling where this could take him." He looks down at me and his face is grim. Any hint of a smile is long since gone. "But I'm afraid."

"Of God's judgment?" I wonder out loud.

"I'm afraid you might have the power to weaken Edward's resolve. Cloud his judgment. That if given the opportunity, he wouldn't think twice about leaving this calling behind. He wouldn't think beyond wanting you."

"I guess I also worry about that," I admit. "But I worry about other things too."

The bells of St. Mary's begin to ring out into the night. They're deep and loud and the air feels like it's vibrating.

"Such as?" the Bishop asks.

"I guess I worry that maybe he didn't really choose this life."

The Bishop shakes his head. "I counseled him throughout his seminary coursework. I was there when he took his vows."

I look up at Bishop Whitlock. He stands there with such confidence, like he has it all figured out. It's reassuring and off-putting all at once. "Maybe he just chose you. The guy who loved him and the life that came with it? The only family he's ever known?"

Before he can answer, St. Mary's doors open and my family, along with Edward, spill out onto the steps. Rose's kids race down toward the sidewalk. Alice grabs Patrick so Rose can chase after them. Dad's talking with Emmett and Ben. Edward's speaking to my mom, but something catches his attention and he stops to glance across the street. Bishop Whitlock waves. Edward looks between the two of us.

"I'd like to think God chose this life for him," the Bishop tells me.

But I'm not sure which life he means.

"Maybe He'll change his mind." I glance overhead. Still no signs forthcoming. If God's there, He definitely takes Fridays off.

"I mean, God can be a fickle motherfucker. Am I right?"

The Bishop smiles, like he's proud of me and uncomfortable all at once. "In some ways you remind me of him. I see why he likes being around you."

"With all due respect, you don't know the half of it. What he likes, what we like together, that's just between me and Father Edward."

"It's between you, Edward, and God. Edward is loyal to God above all else."

"I don't think I'd want him any other way, Bishop. You have a good night."

I head toward my family. We have a stupid wedding to celebrate.