Chapter 6 - The Ambry

 

Chapter 6. The Ambry

Father Cullen

Four Hail Marys, two pints of Guinness and one good album - the Best of Kansas - and I was finally able to sleep peacefully last night.

There are no thoughts, this morning, about how Bella seems to be challenging me every time she stares at me just a little too long.

No thoughts about the sound of her voice as she takes the Lord's name in vain.

And I'm definitely not imagining ungodly things about her lips when she smiles.

It was the wine. And the close quarters.

And the company in those close quarters.

Regardless…

Today is the parish's annual end of summer rummage sale. I'm feeling good about it. If all goes as planned, by the end of the day we'll have a few thousand extra dollars to put toward the church's homeless ministry. There's nothing like helping those in need to make one forget about his own shortcomings.

At least that's what I'm thinking as I walk up to the church and see the Swan's family minivan waiting for me already, as usual.

Alice is always early, and she eagerly hops out of the car, ready to hit the ground running. Then the rest of the ladies of the family spill out including the one family member I hadn't expected to see today. One, I realize, I'm excited to see.

Bella pulls her hair into a ponytail and flashes a smile in my direction, and I face the simple fact that … God hates me.

"Why in the fuck hast thou forsaken me, Lord?" I mutter, attempting to grin as I approach the women.

I specifically prayed for him to deliver me from temptation.

My elders might say He's testing me. Preparing me for what comes next.

I say it's punishment. And there's an entire slew of reasons why He might be doing just that. One reason in particular is standing out in the forefront of my mind as I watch Bella talk with her family.

Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. I shouldn't have jerked off to Mariah Carey's Christmas album that one time.

"Okay, two times," I admit to Him quietly as I wave to the Swan women.

I don't listen to that album anymore.

"Good morning, Father." Alice beams as she begins to pull bags of clothes out of the back of her mother's car. I honestly don't know how she comes through month after month for every event we have. But who am I to question the Lord's will?

"You've done it again, Alice." I help with the bags. Rose grabs one as well. I catch Bella staring at me as she grabs two. There's something different about her demeanor this morning I can't quite put a finger on.

"Morning," she says in a sing-song voice, and then it hits me.

She seems… happy.

She takes her bags quickly and sets them inside the door to the parish, then returns like she's on a mission.

"There's fresh coffee inside," I tell them all. I'm going to need a cup or two myself if I want to catch up with Alice and Bella's pace today.

"Would that be Irish coffee, by any chance?" Bella asks. I smile because she's definitely a parishioner after my own heart, this one.

"Afraid not," I tell her with a wink. Then I whisper jokingly, "But there's some extra wine in the ambry."

"Father!" Mrs. Swan blushes. Rose giggles. Alice shakes her head. There's a hidden smile there, though.

I laugh it off. What they don't know is, I'm dead ass serious.

The laughter doesn't last long before a car speeds its way into the parking lot and screeches to a halt, causing everyone in our small party to jump back a few steps. I recognize the person behind the wheel as Ben, the man I used to think of as a devout Catholic and devoted fiancé.

"For Christ's sake," Bella mumbles once she sees who the driver is, and she doesn't stick around to welcome him into the group. Instead, she heads off with Alice to drop off a second load of clothes.

"What are you doing here, silly?" Angela asks Ben as he rushes over to her. "You're supposed to be helping Emmett with -"

"Rachel called, babe. It's bad. She has some kind of bridesmaid emergency. You left your phone at the house." He hands it to her, and she immediately steps away from the rest of us to call her friend.

Ben doesn't really seem too concerned, though. Instead, he looks bored and maybe a little annoyed, although I do catch him sneaking glances at Bella when he thinks the rest of the family's not looking.

"Oh my gosh, Mom. I have to go," Angela wails after she ends the call with her friend. "Rachel's dress is the wrong size, the wrong pattern, and the wrong color. It's green!" She's nearly in tears.

Renee is quick to console her. "It's fine dear, we'll manage here. Don't worry." She smiles and shoes her. "Go. Go!"

Everyone waits for Angela to leave with her fiancé, but he's oblivious and dumbfoundedly quiet. Distracted by the pavement… and Bella.

Alice pulls keys from her pocket and holds them out to Angela, who takes them and hurries to the front of the van. Ben is still cemented in place.

I'm annoyed he didn't offer to drive her himself.

Mostly because I'm fairly certain I know why.

"Bell, hey," he says quietly, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets as Bella pulls the remainder of the bags out of the Swan's van. "Got a minute?" he asks.

"No!" Mrs. Swan, Rose, and I answer in unison.

Alice stops short and gives us all a confused look. As Angela drives off, the rest of the Swan women turn toward me, each perplexed about why I would step into their family business like I did.

"I - we really need Bella's help setting up before everyone gets here," I explain.

"Well, yeah, but - you've got plenty of other people for that right?" Ben laughs. "This'll only take a -"

"Ben," Mrs. Swan interjects. "If Father Edward needs Bella's help, that's her priority, not you."

"Yeah," Rose adds. "And why didn't you give my sister a ride just now?"

Exactly!

"Wow." Bella says with a bitter laugh, interrupting everyone. "First of all, I don't need anyone to speak for me, guys," she tells her mother, Rose… and me.

Suddenly, I'm ashamed I assumed I had any right to speak for her at all. She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. It's one of the things I admire about her.

"And second?" She turns to Ben. Her eyes are blazing. This is different from the mild agitation I saw last night at dinner with her family. This goes deeper than a drunken kiss that was cut short.

"No. I don't 'got a minute', Ben. Not now, not later, not tomorrow, not ever. Understand?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. She grabs the last of the bags off the ground, heaves them over her shoulders, and strides back toward the church leaving the rest of us there, feeling humbled.

At least, that's how I feel.

"That was harsh," Alice says, clearly baffled, before she follows her sister inside. Mrs. Swan and Rose each give Ben a pointed look before heading in themselves.

I put a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Sometimes we have to depend on others to deliver us from evil."

He looks shell shocked as he watches the women go off without him.

"Ben?" I ask. As he glances at me, I see a shadow of the man I've gotten to know a bit over these past weeks. A man determined to do the right thing. A man who talked about the institution of marriage and raising a family in the Catholic faith with zeal. I remind myself of the commitments I've made in the sessions I've had with him and Angela and the responsibilities I have to the both of them.

"If there's anything you need to talk about, I'm always available."

He nods, but I'm not entirely sure he's heard me.

"Come find me when you're ready," I say before following the Swans into the church.

In the basement of St. Mary's, parishioners are starting to organize for the fundraiser. Women smile and make a point to chit chat. Husbands shake my hand and compliment me on last week's sermon.

Usually I'd feel at home here. Content. Actually, more than content. Most mornings when I gather with others in service to the Lord, I feel absolutely lucky this is what I do for a living. That somehow I've found my calling and am a force for good in the world.

This morning I'm restless, though. Something is missing. As I glance around at all the well-meaning people milling around me, I know what it is. Or who.

Bella's not here.

And I think I know where to find her.

xXxXx

The sanctuary's dark and quiet. No one's expected here until Saturday mass later this evening. The pews are all empty. Candles flicker against the far wall. She's sitting on the edge of the altar, the extra decanter of wine in her hand.

As I clasp my hands behind me and begin walking toward her, I convince myself I sought her out because she might be hurting and I'm her priest, her confessor. Therefore, I should go to her. After all, the Lord's placed her in my path for a reason.

"Even sinful Catholic priests don't drink until noon, you know."

She doesn't look surprised to see me.

"Hey." She holds the bottle up and waves it at me. "You pointed me in this direction."

"That I did."

Lord, Jesus Christ, please tell me if it's possible not to smile when I'm around her?

"You get a load of that guy?" she asks.

I don't have to ask who she's referring to.

"Do you really think avoiding the issue is going to make it go away?"

"No," she says defensively. "I think Angela's the only one who can make him go away. So I told her. And it turns out, this whole situation is my drunken fault. And he's still here. Riddle me that."

I'm at the altar now. And it's awkward, trying to have a conversation with her from down here, so I hop up and sit next to her.

She offers me the wine. I take it.

She offers me a cigarette. I don't take that.

"Only one sin per day, Father?"

"It's one thing to smoke in the backyard of a parishioner's home, another entirely to smoke in the house of God."

She leans toward me. "FYI, my mom's not cool with smoking in her house either. For future reference."

"We were outside," I point out. Then I take a sip of the Malbec I was saving for a rainy day.

It appears today is the day. Early or not.

"And don't try to argue technicalities with my mom. It's not going to get you anywhere. I should know."

Handing the bottle back to her, I remind myself I'm here to help.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I know she does. I feel it. But whether she actually admits it is another thing.

She shakes her head. "Won't do any good. Thanks, though."

I don't want to push, but I don't want the conversation to end either. As she takes another sip of wine, I try to think of something else we can talk about. Then the tattoo shows itself again.

Like a sign from God.

"Wanna talk about that then?" I nod to it.

Bella rolls her eyes. "Are tattoos a sin now too? Eleventh commandment or something?"

I laugh at her innate ability to get offended by just about everything I say. "I was just curious if you were a musician."

She smiles, finally. And her smile - it just about manages to light up the entire sanctuary.

"Yeah. Technically on hiatus, I guess. As long as I manage to figure out my entire life, I'll head back out on the road after the wedding." She nudges me with her elbow and snickers. "Don't get me wrong, I'm no Fergie."

I'd be willing to bet she's a Fergie.

"So you play guitar? Or sing?"

"Both. At the same time. Pretty impressive, huh?"

"Well I don't know. I'd have to witness that to make a judgement call."

Bella looks at the ground, still grinning. It's difficult to tell in the dim light, but it looks like she's blushing.

Fuck.

Forgive me, Father.

"You still do that?" she asks. "Go to shows and stuff? Are priests allowed?" The question itself is enough to drag my thoughts away from dangerous waters.

"On occasion. Maybe." I lean in close to whisper. "But don't tell them." I jerk my head toward the statues of the saints lining the sanctuary.

Bella chuckles before taking another sip, then hands the wine back to me.

I can't believe I just admitted that out loud. Then again, yes, I can. It's been my impulse since the first time I spoke with her. I can't believe it was only yesterday.

"Back before the kiss, I was supposed to play at the wedding. Pretty sure it's not happening now."

"Their loss. And mine. I'd like to hear you."

Bella takes a deep breath before looking me in the eye. It looks like she's afraid to hope. And I'm honored she'd hope I could see her perform. At the same time, I want to take away her fear. If she'd let me.

"Why?" she asks, point blank.

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

"I don't know," I tell her truthfully. And somehow, this talk has taken a more intimate turn.

She bites her bottom lip. "I don't know, either," she admits. Then she smiles, a bright, dazzling smile. Her shoulders relax. She swings her feet. "Thanks."

"For the wine?"

"For being honest."

Jesus… I sigh. Never mind.

Bella holds my stare for a second… or an eternity.

"Listen," she says, and I do. I listen to her breathing. I try to hear her heartbeat. I know I hear mine beating like a bass drum.

She jumps off the altar, shaking me from my thoughts. "I should go help my sisters. Rose shouldn't even be here today. Too much heavy lifting and she might give birth right in the middle of the rummage sale."

She turns toward me as she walks up the aisle. "You coming, Father?"

I want to. I want to follow her down the aisle, out of the church, and anywhere else she wants to take me. The way my heart thumps inside my chest says I'm only a moment away from doing just that.

Galatians five, verse sixteen stops me.

Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.

"No, I'm… I think I'll just clean up the mess you've made of my ambry."

"You could just call it a cabinet, you know," she teases.

"That wouldn't be very Godly of me, though."

Her laughter fills the entire sanctuary. It echoes off the walls and sends goosebumps down my arms.

"Ambry it is, then," she declares a little louder. "If you're what Godly looks like, I want to make sure you stay this way."

I'm still smiling like an idiot as she turns to leave. Still trying to breathe. As soon as she's gone, the smile fades because there's nothing funny about what she's doing to me.

"Fuck."

The word reverberates through the church. I don't bother asking forgiveness. The Big Guy will hear my laundry list later.

I sit for a while and think about how Bella's eyes sparkle when she talks about the things she loves. She loves her music and her family. She does not love Ben Cheney. I shouldn't be thinking about how that sparkle makes me want things I haven't considered for years. Because her eyes also seem to sparkle when she talks about me.

I set the decanter down and lean forward with my elbows on my knees. I put my face in my hands. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

I've comforted people before. I've listened to them complain, then listened to them ask forgiveness. I've talked them down from ledges. I've held them while they cried in remorse, and I've helped them to make it right. I've steered them back to the word of God over and over again.

Since committing myself to His service, it's been all I've needed.

Until yesterday, when suddenly I felt the need for more.

Until yesterday, I never wanted to cup someone's face gently in my hands.

I never wanted to gaze into their eyes.

I never wanted to press my lips against theirs.

Hers.

Bella's lips.

My body shudders at the mere thought.

I close my eyes and imagine it. Sliding a hand around her waist. Pulling her body flush with mine. Leaning in.

"Shit."

I shake my head and push dark thoughts out of my mind because fucking hell. I'm her priest. Her confessor. I'm supposed to be trustworthy.

I don't want to be the second man in as many days to take advantage of her. I'm her refuge from all of that.

And I couldn't stand to see the sparkle in her eyes fade when she looks at me.

I bow my head in prayer.

Forgive me Father, for entertaining these ideas.

Show me the way.

Please. Show me the fucking way.

Any way, Other than this.

"Are you okay?"

"Father?" I ask.

I open my eyes, stunned to see who He's sent me. And I'm completely and utterly relieved.

"Not quite." He chuckles.

"Jasper." I say it like a prayer. Like a thank you to God for hearing me. Because if anyone can help me through this temptation, it's the man who's been my mentor since I was a kid, the man who practically raised me after my parents died.

The man who taught me what it means to be a priest.

He smiles and drops his duffle next to him, radiating concern as he approaches the altar.

"You look troubled, Ed," he says.

He has no fucking idea.