The Consequence of Secrets - Part One (8 page)

BOOK: The Consequence of Secrets - Part One

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Emma

Once again, I’m crying against the priest’s chest. I shouldn’t be doing this – to him or myself. But, I can’t seem to stop; it just feels so right to be here in his arms. It feels like this is where the world is, and I don’t want to move for fear of dropping out of its orbit.

Slowly, his hands move up and down my back in a soothing motion, and as I begin to calm down, he moves away and looks down at me as he uses his shirtsleeve to dry my eyes.

“Tell me what’s happening to you,” he says, looking into my eyes, gently brushing my cheeks. “How long has this been going on?”

Pressing my lips together, I struggle to give voice to something I’ve kept secret for so long. “For years. Not long after we were married. It’s not usually this bad, but he’s always been heavy handed with me.”

“Heavy handed?” he says, pushing my hair back from my face again and lightly running his fingertips down the side of my face. “Why do you stay?”

“I tried to leave. I did. In the beginning when it first started, I tried to go but he kept dragging me back, and…” I shake my head, stepping back out of his grip. It’s too confusing to have him touching me right now. Why does he touch me like that? “Why aren’t you in your uniform?” I ask, taking in his jeans and casual shirt.

“It’s my day off. Don’t change the subject – we’re talking about what’s happening to you. How badly are you hurt?”

I run my fingers through my hair and move to sit down. “Three cracked ribs, lots of bruising, and a black eye. Normally he won’t hit my face, but he was really angry this time.”

“What could make him so angry that he’d strike you?”

“He wants me to have a baby, and I’m not getting pregnant.”

“Because you’re on birth control?”

Frowning, I give him a quizzical look, wondering how he has that information.

“I saw you walk out of the family planning clinic,” he explains.

“You didn’t immediately think I should be denied communion and thrown out of the church?”

He shakes his head. “No. There are a few things in Catholic beliefs that are a little archaic, and in modern society, I really feel that birth control is one of them.”

“I just don’t want to bring a child into this,” I explain. “I mean, what if Gabe does this to the baby because it won’t stop crying?” I point to my face and shake my head. “I couldn’t bear it, and I’d rather take the beatings than subject an innocent child to him.”

He moves toward where I’m sitting and kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. “I need to take you away from here,” he says.

I shake my head, wishing it were possible but knowing that it isn’t. He’d always find me. He always does. The man wouldn’t even let me die.

“To where, Braden?” I ask, feeling strange using his first name but kind of liking it nonetheless. “Are you going to hide me at the rectory? I’m quite sure they don’t let you have sleepovers. Or are you going to drop me off at a women’s shelter? Because I’ve tried that before, and he brought me back. And going to my father isn’t an option – he believes in marriage and obedience.”

“We’ll work something out. But, you can’t stay here. It very obviously isn’t safe.”

His blue eyes look up at me and they’re filled with sincerity. It makes my chest tighten with confused emotion, and I slide my hand from his and gently touch the stubble on his cheek, feeling sad because I know he wants to help me, but I don’t see how he can – not without making things so much worse.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you completely out of uniform. You didn’t shave,” I say quietly, my breathing growing heavy as the expression on his face changes, and he leans into my touch.

“I needed to see you. I came straight here. I was worried.”

I move my hand and run it through the deep brown locks of his disheveled looking hair, and his eyes close. He looks pained. “What would you be if you weren’t a priest?” I ask, bringing my hands back down to the side of his face. He catches them and brings them together on my lap, holding them in his.

“I’d probably be a criminal of some sort,” he admits.

“So it’s either a saint or a sinner?”

He shakes his head. “We’re all sinners, Emma. Every single one of us.”

Looking into his eyes, a tension fills the air between us, and I find myself whispering, “Do you ever wish you weren’t a priest?”

He lifts my hands and presses a lingering kiss to my knuckles. “Only since I met you,” he responds, and it makes my heart stop and sing at the same time. It makes dread and joy fight each other in my stomach. It makes my mind whirl because I know there’s some crazy kind of connection going on between us, and I know that there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m married, and he’s a priest, and if anyone found out, we’d both lose everything – I’d most likely lose my life.

I suck in a charged breath and force myself to look away. “You should go, Braden. Gabe will home soon to check on me. I don’t think he should see you here.”

We both stand but he doesn’t let go of my hands. “Come with me, please. I don’t think I can leave knowing…” He stops talking suddenly as his fingertips brush against my wrist on one hand, and I see the realization of what he just felt flicker in his eyes as his mouth opens and he lowers his gaze while turning my wrist over. “Oh, Emma,” he gasps upon seeing the jagged lines from my unsuccessful escape attempt.

I pull my hand away from his grasp. “I told you I tried to leave. I tried every possible way. But he just. keeps.
dragging
me. back.” I place my palms on his chest and I push. “Now, go. You’re just going to make this worse.”

He takes a hold of my wrists again and shakes his head, his eyes shining with concern. “I can’t leave you here,” he stresses.

“Oh god, Braden, don’t you understand? You can’t help me. Not you. Not God. Not anyone. Now go!
Please,
” I beg, pushing again on his chest. “Go!”

He steps back, his face furrowed as he fights his desire to protect me, and my request for him to go. Of course I’d rather he’d stay, but I just know that Gabe would take one look at us and just feel something in the air. And then he’d kill us both on suspicion alone – of that, I am certain. He’s taken steps to ensure I won’t leave him before.

“Shit,” he hisses, his hands reaching up to run through his already messy hair.

“Please, Braden. I’ll be OK. I’ll always be OK.”

Just as I see him start to relent, I hear the squeak of brakes as Gabe’s Mercedes pulls into the drive, and the click as the garage door activates. My heart jumps into my throat.

“Oh god, he’s home. You have to leave. You have to go. If he finds you here, he’ll know something is going on, he’ll know that…Oh god, you have to go!” I panic, pushing him toward the door, my eyes wide with fright as I watch the gunmetal grey car sitting in the drive for the garage to open, like a predator in wait. I reach out and slap my hand against the door to keep it closed. “Just wait until he drives in and the garage starts to close,” I whisper.

When I turn my eyes back to his, I realize how close we are, my body pressed against his, his warmth curling around mine, and his scent filling my nose, making me heady, making me wish for so much more...

“I wish our world was different, Braden,” I whisper.

His eyes darken, and he lowers his head, softly pressing his lips to mine, his hand moving to slide in my hair as he kisses me tenderly, making my head swim and my heart break, because it feels like absolute perfection, and I know this can never be.

“So do I, Emma,” he murmurs in return. Then he quietly opens the door and jogs down the path, pausing momentarily to look back forlornly before he walks away like a dream that will never come true. I wipe the tears from my cheeks with my sleeves and force myself to move away from the window.

“Emma?” Gabe calls out from where the garage joins the laundry. I walk toward him and let him know I’m on my way. He smiles when he sees me, and although he can tell I’ve been crying, he wraps me in his arms, and tells me everything will be OK. It doesn’t feel safe like it does with Braden, although right now, I know it is safe. In his hands is a large rectangular gift bag, a symbol of his remorse. As he steps away from me and runs his hand over my bruised face, there’s a softness in his eyes as if he feels bad for breaking his favorite toy.

“I thought you might like this,” he whispers, as he hands me the bag. Inside, is a long silk nightgown and matching robe.

There will be many of these gifts over the coming days until my bruising goes down and my ribs heal. He’s always sorry when he goes too far, just not sorry enough to actually stop.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, running the ivory silk through my hands. “Thank you.”

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss against my mouth. “Why don’t you go and put it on?” he whispers.

I comply, of course I comply, and when he makes love to me while I wear it, softly and tenderly, taking the time to attend to my enjoyment over his, I imagine it’s Braden touching me, and for once in my life, I actually come, and it makes my heart hurt even more.

end of part one.