Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved (24 page)

“I don’t believe you. Matter of fact, I
know
that isn’t the truth. You just lied to a priest. Tsk, tsk,” he taunted, pushing her words aside as if he wasn’t the least bit fazed. He stepped closer to her, crowding her personal space, and when she saw the way he looked at her, she placed her hands on his chest, both palms flat against it.

Oh shit, damn. The man is built...Jesus. Don’t move your hands, Rhapsody. Keep them right there. Don’t move them...

And then she felt his hard pecs jump from beneath his clothing.

This is torture!

She swallowed hard, again.

That’s right, he works out, like, all the time. He is in even better shape than I thought. Lord, I don’t call on you often but I need some help if you want me to leave this man alone. Sweet Jesus I need to leave this man alone but I don’t know if I can!

Her emotions boiled, so she did what she knew—tried to temper them with internal humor. Tried to laugh the feelings away, but how was that possible? A lump stuck in her throat as he cupped her chin, raising her eyes to his.

Dane, don’t kiss me...don’t! I won’t stop you...but I want to want to stop you...

“Rhapsody...” He said her name low and slowly as he brought his lips to her temple then let them trail down her face in a gentle caress. Soft, lingering, dragging along her skin. “I
need
to see how this feels. I need you to be by my side. No worries...I won’t let you bring me down to my knees. And besides, I’ve already fallen...so helplessly in love with you.”

He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

“I just felt you deserved honestly at this point. I needed you to know what was going on in my mind, my heart, and yeah, I took a risk. … See what’s happening? You’re scared, but I’m not. I can’t believe this, but I’m not.”

“I’m not scared,” she said, avoiding his eyes. A chill invaded her, though she knew it wasn’t cold outside.

“Okay, you are concerned about my well-being,” he corrected. He pushed against her, leaving no room to breathe, no room to move. “If I was so
well
, Rhapsody, I wouldn’t be here, now would I? You’re a hospital, and I’m sick... I need to find out what this is between us, Rhapsody, and I believe a part of you needs me as well and wants to find out, too.”

And before she could respond, his lips brushed against her cheek again, and he kissed it...soft, enduring, sweet. Then, just like that, he abruptly turned away and walked to his car. No ‘goodbye’, no ‘we’ll talk about this later.’ Nothing. Apparently, he’d had his say, and he was now done discussing it with her.

Her stomach caved as butterflies released. He climbed in the car, started it and drove away. He hadn’t said anything but she knew—she’d see him soon, in the park, and tonight would just mark the beginning of something strangely wonderful...something she half-heartedly resisted because she needed to be able to say,
“I tried.”

Even though her heart said, “Like hell you did...”

Dane wanted to have her in his life, and she accepted it, proud that he put his foot down. Yet, in some strange way, though he clearly made his feelings known, the hell with her protest, he still did it beautifully—as if he’d done it on bended knee...

~***~

The following week...

Rhapsody swayed to Sade, as the timeless songstress belted out, ‘The Sweetest Taboo’. She glanced at the clock, and knowing Dane, he’d be right on time. Although she tried to pretend she wasn’t nervous, her stomach told another story. Since the man had laid his cards out on the table, they’d shared quiet, strange moments together in the park and on the telephone. He’d hold her hand for a few seconds, release it after a gentle squeeze, and not speak, just look out into the lake. She waited, wanting him to unload whatever guns he had, but instead, he’d refocus, caress the side of her face and ask her about the tiny details of her day. She turned her attentions back to her task. The kitchen filled with intoxicating aromas from the dressing she’d made for the arugula salad.

“A little bit of lemon juice, just a drizzle of evoo....dash of salt and pepper...steak done in ten minutes!” She smiled as she peeked in the oven at the potatoes covered in garlic, chives and sage.
A few moments later, the doorbell rang. She froze. With a nervous laugh, she walked to the door, then hesitated, noticing that the red apron printed with, ‘Kiss the Chef’ was still wrapped around her and to make matters worse, she’d stained her chic, form-fitting black shirt and denim leggings. Sighing, she slowly opened the door to find Dane.

There Dane stood, holding a bottle wrapped beautifully, with a silver bow on top. A giggle escaped her when he stared at her a little self-consciously, as though they were young and green high school students all over again.

“This is a nice street...beautiful trees.” he sighed and grinned wider. “I like it, you know? But...I was hoping, at one point in time, you’d invite me inside.”

“Oh!” She laughed, and opened the door wider. “I’m so sorry, Dane. Please come in.” She stood out of the way as he leisurely entered and scanned the living room. “Uh, excuse my appearance. I looked much better an hour ago. I think I’m a good cook, but I’m also messy.” She locked the door and fretfully ran her hands together.

Turning back to her, he handed her the bag with the pretty bow. “It’s white grape juice...”

They both burst out laughing.

“Thank you, that was very thoughtful. You should’ve gotten red grape juice, though.”

“Why? We’re having beef?”

“Yes!”

They both burst out laughing again, then she moved toward the kitchen. Without invitation, he trailed behind her.

“This is a nice house, Rhapsody,” he said sincerely as he leaned up against the counter, crossing his ankles, while she slowly opened the oven door to peer inside.

“Thank you. I’ve been here for about four years, my first major purchase. I couldn’t miss out on it. The real estate market had plummeted and it was an opportunity for me to be a home owner. The mortgage was cheaper than my rent; it was a no-brainer.”

He nodded in understanding and casually crossed his arms over his chest.

“I even mow my own lawn.” When she closed the oven door, the mouthwatering smell of steak lingered in the air.

Dane nodded and smiled, remaining strangely quiet. A few moments passed when she continued to check on the food. Her back toward him, she had a strange sensation. She looked behind her shoulder and realized he was staring at her. His light eyes sparkled under the small but modern kitchen’s recessed lighting. And he looked good,
damn
good. Dressed in a dark gray, long sleeve shirt that slightly clung to his muscular arms and wearing casual, dark, slightly faded jeans, she enjoyed taking in his image. His hair was less perfect, a bit messy as if a dollop of gel had been applied, or perhaps he’d run his fingers through it. She loved it and briefly imagined her fingertips moving through the shades of amber, warm brown, and sparse blond and black tresses. She kept looking at it—just as mesmerized as she’d been the first day she saw him at the park. It was truly one of his best physical features but those eyes...well, they won first dibs.

She swallowed and tried to concentrate on the tasks at hand. At the park, they would be among nature and the many passersby. But here, in her home, they were all alone. In that moment, she began to feel the gravity of the situation. He remained calm, as if they met here, like this, all the time. How surprising! Typically, she was the one running head first into unchartered territory. Hell, this had even been
her
idea, but now, here he was, and she was the one sweating bullets.

She’d asked him to dinner innocently enough, but now,
she
even questioned her motives. He held the handle to sanity, while she slipped down the slope of surrealism. For a brief moment, she thought she may be imagining the entire scenario, as if, for instance, he was never at the club, listening to her sing a song about his fractured heart. The whole thing felt dreamlike, and then, reality snatched her back into the present as she felt his lips run along her cheek...

Oh God...

He stepped back again. She hadn’t even seen him approach.

“Uh, let me get these steaks out. Please,” she pointed out into the living room, “have a seat out there, relax, make yourself at home. I will get dinner on the table.”

“I would prefer to help you,” he offered as he removed two fluted glasses from an open cabinet and held one in each hand, his blue eyes hooded and lips curved in a smile. Such a seductive smile, too!

“I’m sure you would, but you are the guest, so mosey on along.” She playfully turned him around as if they were about to play a game of ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’, and gave a gentle push forward, ushering him away. He obliged, not looking back. After setting the glasses on the table, he sat down on her over-stuffed tan couch and studied her small, antique piano, the pitiful thing, and then looked around the arched room at her art, mostly consisting of West and East African paintings and masks.

She continued to toil in the kitchen, flitting about here and there, but not nearly as much as her nerves, which were rattled like a salt shaker and worn down to a bare nub.

“Have you ever been?” he suddenly called out.

She paused, setting the old green and white checkered oven mitt on the counter.

“Ever been where?”

“To Guinea? That is where that mask is from.” He pointed across the room toward one of her prized possessions—a long, wooden hand-carved mask with a slightly sinister face and beautiful red and white paint around the hollowed eyes.

How’d he know that?

“No, I haven’t. I purchased that at an art show. It just drew me in, you know. Have you been there?” she asked as she opened the refrigerator door, removed a large glass bowl full of freshly tossed salad and placed it on the counter.

“Yes, I recognize the symbols on it, the painting.”

“Really?” she asked, impressed that he’d said ‘Yes’.

“Mmmm hmmm, I’ve been to many countries, and several in
Africa. Guinea’s continued fighting with Liberia—well, it appears Liberia keeps in one way or another bringing their problems
there
—caused some tension while we were visiting. The political climate felt a bit unstable. Their economy is weak; that is why we were there actually, to lend a hand. They have so many refugees from other neighboring areas, the country is overwhelmed, not nearly enough resources. Regardless, I completely enjoyed my conversations with many of the school teachers and officials there.”

“You weren’t there to try and convert, were you? Like a missionary?” Rhapsody half-heartedly teased as she gave the salad another toss with two long, white spoons.

He shook his head. “We always talk about God, and we hold public prayer. We offered advice based on our own beliefs, but we were there to serve, first and foremost.”

Rhapsody nodded as she made her way into the dining room, setting the salad bowl down.

“I’m going to grab the bread, and then we can get started.” She grinned at him, perhaps a little too over-the-top, and before she could turn to the kitchen, their eyes locked. They simply stared at one another, neither willing to turn away. Time stopped. Forcing herself to move, she returned to the kitchen and opened the hot stove, causing the delicious scents to billow out and kiss her cheeks with heated culinary love...
love?

From behind her, she felt his glare on her, and she toyed with the notion of swaying her hips a bit, to entice, then decided against it. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to ask. She’d been anticipating this evening, wanting to crack him open like a piñata and dive deep inside of him...not only emotionally, but also physically. To touch him, feel him—it would be heaven. Shoving those thoughts to the side, she took a deep breath and walked back out of the aromatic kitchen with a hot pan of buttery rolls.

She looked across at him, and he kept his focus on her décor, his eyes bouncing from object to object. The blended living and dining area allowed her to double-task, keep her keen eye on the mysterious, handsome fellow with a golden crucifix handing from around his neck, as well as finish setting the table. She smiled and turned away, placing silverware and saucers at each setting. Before it was all complete, her hard work displayed in artistic fashion, she smelled woodsy cologne and the all too familiar incense from St. Michael’s Rectory.

He is behind me...

She briefly closed her eyes and swallowed, then looked down at the perfect place setting and took in the sight of his large hand next to the saucer she’d just set down. His warm breath caressed her ear as his hand slowly slid over hers, his wedding band glowing bright, as if it were on fire.

It’s going to be a long ass night...

Dane had spent the evening and morning praying... and praying...and praying a wee bit more. He prayed as he drove to Rhapsody’s house and he struggled with the fact that not a bone in him screamed warning, cautionary alerts or swayed red flags while some invisible ghost boo’ed and hissed. Nor did any alarm sound, ‘Mayday!’