Chapter 5 - Let there be (a) Light

 

Chapter 5. Let There Be (a) Light

Bella

"Godammit!" With the wind blowing off the bay, the damp book of matches I found isn't up to the challenge of lighting a cigarette. Not even close.

"Fucking fuck."

A little more wine and I might have the balls to go back into the kitchen and use the stovetop.

Actually, I should've brought the bottle outside with me.

Sitting across the table from Ben and Jake is one thing, but lusting after a priest while sitting across the table from Ben and Jake is another thing entirely. Not to mention, Mom, Rose, and Angela have been glaring at me all night long.

A case of wine probably wouldn't be enough to get me through tonight.

I thought a cigarette might help. I try another match. And another. And…

"Fuck!" I shout.

"Need a light?"

I jump. My head snaps in the direction of the voice.

Holy shit. It's the priest. Father Edward. He's biting his bottom lip as he flicks a silver lighter and holds it out for me.

I can't help but raise an eyebrow. Is he for real?

I place the cigarette between my lips and lean forward as he cups the flame so it's not blown out by the wind. His hair falls over his forehead as he does, and he looks, well… divine. There. I said it.

I inhale deeply, relishing the taste of tobacco and the way Father Edward's body shields me from the wind.

"Thanks, Father. You always come to the rescue like this?"

"It's every priest's job to try and give what his parishioners need." He pauses to put the lighter away, then locks eyes with me like he's a freight train, headed straight for me. "When they need it."

All aboard, Father.

"Wow. That's a lot of responsibility. What else have you got in those pockets?" I nod toward his pants.

He grins and ducks his head, looking at the ground. The way he's able to pick and choose when to let me egg him on really pisses me off - in the best way possible. His self-control is impressive.

"Sorry," I say, and manage to almost mean it. Flirting with a priest's probably a sin. "My mom should have warned you. I'm incorrigible."

"Your mom did warn me," he says, fixing his eyes on me again. "And you're not incorrigible, Bella." He waits like he wants to be sure I'm listening. And I am. "You're human."

The way he looks at me - like he really sees me - or more than that, like he accepts me, makes the breath catch in my throat. Makes my cheeks go warm, even in the chilly night air.

"Mom might debate you on that point. She thinks I'm a demon spawn."

He chuckles. "Should I call you Lucifer then?"

"Post fall from grace Lucifer. No angel."

He nods, and I can't help but feel the tiniest bit proud of my biblical knowledge. I learned something from Sunday school after all. Enough to almost slightly impress a priest.

Father Edward takes a cigarette out of his pocket. Then he lights it as he leans against the house. "So." He pulls a drag and tilts his head back as he blows the smoke out. "That's the fiancé."

I openly gape at him. "You smoke?"

"From time to time. And drink and curse. And sometimes lie. I occasionally cheat, mostly at cards."

And if I was gaping before, I think my chin's officially hit the ground. Forget my worries about Mom finding out about Fergie. If she heard this shit, she'd kick him out of the house, then get him kicked out of the parish.

"But, um, hello? Those things are ungodly. Aren't they?"

He raises an eyebrow and nods toward the cigarette I'm holding between my fingers.

"What?" I ask, taking a drag for effect. "I'm all post fall from grace Lucifer over here. But you… you're supposed to be… holy?"

He laughs like I've told a joke. Or cracked his secret code. Or something.

"If I started the habit pre-priesthood, would it count?"

Having my words from confessional thrown back in my face makes my knees go unexpectedly weak. I feel the urge to bite my lip. "Probably?"

He grins. "See, told you."

"Smart ass."

I may not be the world's best Catholic, but I have never ever sworn at a priest before. He doesn't even flinch.

"All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," he muses as he stares up at the sky and takes another drag of his cigarette.

"That's Romans something or other, right?"

He seems surprised. Maybe even impressed. "That's right."

"But still-"

"Bella," he says, drawing out the syllables like he enjoys saying my name. "Being a man of God doesn't mean I'm perfect. I still have all the built-in flaws everyone else does." He pauses for a moment. "Besides, if I was perfect, why would I need God in the first place?"

He winks and I'm pretty sure I self-combust and turn into a pile of ash.

For a second I feel like he was giving me a glimpse into who he is without the collar, but with that wink, a shrug, and the devilish smile on his face, the moment's definitely over.

"Please go tell my mom she doesn't need God. Please?" I mock beg, a cigarette between my lips, my hands clasped in front of me. I think about getting down on my knees for the performance, but given the way this unorthodox holy man makes me feel, it would be indecent to say the least.

He takes another drag and lets it out, watching me with an intensity that damn near makes me want to do it... drop to my knees right in front of him. Yeah.

I shake my head to try to erase the thought from my mind. I lean against the wall for support.

I've had too much wine… mixed with a hot priest. It's definitely a new kind of high.

I attempt to play it cool. Like I just chill with a cigarette and a priest any old random night of the week, and he doesn't in any way shape or form make me want to jump his bones.

I clear my throat. "So, you're saying God expects us to do these things?"

"I'm saying it's perfectly natural for us, in our perfectly flawed nature, to have a cigarette every once in a while, or… kiss our sister's fiancé in a moment of weakness."

"I told you. He kissed me. He's an ass."

Movement in the kitchen grabs his attention away from me. He glances at my sister for a moment before he pushes off of the wall and flicks his cigarette onto the ground. Then he starts to back away towards the house, like he has to go but doesn't want to.

Shit, I don't want him to go either.

"And I told you," he says with the smallest of grins. "You're human."

Father Edward steps inside and gives a polite nod to Rose as she puts a few dishes into the sink. Then he keeps right on going, until he disappears from my sight.

I savor the rest of my cigarette slowly. I like how Father Edward kept saying I was human, like it made up for all the shit I tended to pull. Somehow I don't think the excuse would go far with the rest of the family. But it made all the difference to him.

Of course, he's a priest. It's his job. He's got to say stuff like that to everyone. And it's really not hard. Everyone who comes to him is human. I laugh. It's almost too easy.

Someone's like, "Forgive me Father, I stole a cookie," and he tells them they're human.

Someone else asks for forgiveness for stealing a car. They're human too.

So, of course, I kiss Ben. I ruin my sister's marriage before she even walks down the aisle. I'm human. Convenient, Father. Very convenient.

Very much bullshit.

But hoo boy, he looks good when he's saying it.

And even though it's most definitely, probably… okay, possibly bullshit, I can't lie. It made me feel better hearing him say it. Like he's the only one who ever cared I'm human. The only one willing to give me a break without taking something at the same time.

He's probably a really good priest.

I stub my cigarette out then collect my butt and the Father's. Mom keeps an eye out for stuff like this. Wouldn't want her to know he's not perfect.

I fiddle with the Father's cigarette, thinking how he'd held it between his lips. His lips looked soft. I mean, most lips look soft, but I don't think about most lips. I only think about the lips I should never, ever kiss.

I should be thinking of -

"Hey, Bella!"

"Jake?" I ask, spinning around. I should be thinking of Jake. Tall, dark, and handsome, and crushing on me his entire life.

"I thought you might need a jacket." He holds out my hoodie. "It's chilly tonight."

And a perfect gentleman on top of it all.

I take it from him and slip it on. "Thanks."

"So, you've been talking to a priest?" He kicks at the porch railing a little, fidgeting. He can't look me in the eye.

"I guess I have. Crazy, right?"

"Not really. Makes sense, if you ask me."

"Why?" I'm surprised by the defensive tone in my voice.

Jake finally looks up from his feet and smiles at me a little. "You're better than people give you credit for."

Wow. Jake actually manages to take my breath away a little. "You give me credit?"

He takes a step in my direction. "I do, Bella. Always have."

Shit. This is going to lead to a kiss. And I've kissed at least one too many men in the past twenty-four hours.

I force myself to laugh, my back against the wall. "Yeah, you do give me credit... all the time. At your dad's bar. Way too much credit, actually. I don't know how I'll ever pay you back."

I've ruined the mood and Jake's smile fades a little, but he doesn't look away. He gazes into my eyes and I get the feeling he sees me too. He sees this glorified version of me. It's a little different than how Father Edward seemed to see me. He saw all my flaws but seemed to like me anyway.

"I was talking to your mom in there," Jake says.

"You made her night coming over. Thanks, Jake."

"Thanks for inviting me. I told my dad I'd be back after dinner, though. Friday nights are busy."

"Right. Well, I'm sure I'll -"

"But anyway, your mom says you don't have a date for Angela's wedding."

"What?"

"And I know inviting myself's not exactly how this is supposed to go, but I thought if you needed someone to be there for you. If you maybe, wanted me there with you. Like as a date. I don't have anything going on that Saturday. And I'd really -"

"Yes," I say. Because I should. And because I'll need all the support I can get. And because, if I know what's right for myself, I should give it a go with someone who's good for me.

Jake beams. "Awesome. That's just… yes!" He jumps down the patio steps then spins back in my direction. "Come hit me up at the bar this weekend?" he asks.

"You know I will."

We've been over this. Jake: alcohol. Me: family dysfunction. It's inevitable.

Then I go back inside to tell Angela I've got a plus one. She'll have to change up the seating chart and the number of guests for the caterer. It's going to make her night.