Page 41 of Holly Jolly Heresy
“Like helping people feel close to God. Like being there for the biggest moments of their lives—the weddings and baptisms and deaths. It’s a privilege to walk with them in those moments.” The furrow in her brown deepened. “That reminds me. I need to make sure Father Murphy knows to bring his blue rosary beads with him when he visits the assisted living facility. Mrs. Johnson thinks red rosary beads are a bad omen. Oh! And I’ll have to warn him not to eat the cookies in Mrs. Faria’s room. I almost chipped a tooth the last time she offered me one.” He pointed at one his front teeth.
“Will you miss it?”
He blew out a breath, his lips pursing out with his exhalation. She knew what those lips tasted like now, the warm glide of them on the inside of her thighs...
“I’m sure there are things I will miss, but I’m also sure I can find a hundred new ways to be a safe place for people without sacrificing such large parts of myself to do it.”
It was a perfect answer. Textbook perfect. Still...
When, at last, Caleb pulled into the little parking lot behind St. Anthony’s Church four hours later, hers was the only other car in the lot. They wrestled the garbage bags of costumes out of the car and dragged them down the stone steps to the small office area in the basement of the church. The bags safely stowed in the corner of the office for when school reopened, Molly clapped her hands together and glanced around the overstuffed office. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“Hey.” Caleb leaned against his desk, piles of papers and sticky notes covering every surface, and rested his hands on her hips, drawing her closer. “What’s going on? You’ve been off all morning.”
She blew out a frustrated breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just in my head.”
He tilted his face down until they were eye level, looking up at her through his thick eyelashes. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”
She lifted a finger and tentatively tugged on his collar, not enough to dislodge it, but enough to remind herself it could come off. His eyes narrowed, and she could practically see the gears turning in his brain.
“You’re giving up so much. And I’m not giving up anything.”
“I suspect you’ll need to find a new job once Bruce finds out you’re shacked up with a defrocked priest.”
She shoved against his chest lightly, a reluctant smile on her lips. “I’m giving up a job. You’re giving up who you are.”
“No, not who I am.” He pulled her closer, moving her between his legs. “I have been more myself in the last two days with you than I have been in years. I’m not giving up who I am. I’m reclaiming it.” She nodded, letting his reassurance quiet the lingering wisps of worry in her mind. “Give me a few hours. Come to Mass tonight. Trust me.”
She straightened his lapel, tucking his collar back into place, and smiled wryly. “I wish I could kiss you right now,” she whispered.
He mimicked her with a too-loud whisper of his own. “Why can’t you?”
Her eyes went wide. “We’re in your church.”
He glanced around the room. “We’re the only ones here.” And there was that grin again, the one that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach and heaviness gathering between her legs. He dragged his fingers along the waistband of her jeans, hooking them in her belt loops, and tugged. “Come here, angel.”
His kiss was slow and decadent. She focused on the scratch of his two-day-old stubble, the sharp sting of his teeth tugging on her bottom lip before he soothed the bite with the languid glide of his tongue. “Stop thinking so hard, Molly,” he rasped against her lips.
She chuckled, delighted by how well he knew her even as her own mind was at war with itself. He trailed his lips down the column of her throat, his hands slipping into the back pockets of her jeans and pulling her forward until they were hip to hip. Holding him to her with fingers tangled in his hair, she sighed. “Last night…we didn’t discuss how this is all going to work.”
“We got a little distracted.” She could feel his smile against her skin.
“I guess I’m a details kind of girl. Without knowing how, it’s hard for me to believe I didn’t imagine it.”
He paused in his exploration of her throat, a smile lighting up his face despite the seriousness in his eyes. “You didn’t imagine it.” He took her hand and pressed it against his chest, holding it there so she could feel the pounding of his heart beneath his shirt. “Here’s how this is going to work. Tonight, I’m going to preach my last homily at Christmas Eve Mass. Then you and I are going to family dinner to celebrate with our friends. And tomorrow, we’ll figure out what comes next. And the day after that, and the day after that, for the rest of our lives.” Her surprise must have shown on her face because he released a low, throaty chuckle and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Too soon?”
The creak of the door to the stairwell down the hall resounded through the room and they leapt apart, Molly spinning in a circle as she looked for a reason to be alone with Caleb in his office. For his part, Caleb seemed much less fazed by almost getting caught wrapped in each other’s arms. He bit back a smile as he adjusted the bulge in his pants and took a seat at his desk, the oversized wooden hand-me-down conveniently concealing his erection.
“Father West?” The voice of Father Murphy, St. Anthony’s associate pastor, rang out only moments before the door to the office burst open. The older man looked out of breath, his silver combover sticking up in odd places as though he’d tried to run his hands through the sparse hair left on his head. “What is this email?” he demanded.
“Good afternoon, Father Murphy. You remember Ms. Proulx from the High School,” Caleb said, gesturing to Molly.
Father Murphy nodded in her direction, then snapped his attention back to Caleb. “We need to talk.”
“I can go,” Molly said, moving towards the door.
“You don’t need to leave,” Caleb said. “This will only take a minute.” Father Murphy’s nostrils flared, clearly annoyed.
“I think there’s one more bag of angel wings in the car. I’ll just go get it and then I’ll come back.” With an uneasy glance at Father Murphy, she added, “Take your time,” before scurrying from the room, leaving the two priests to hash out whatever the hell that was.
