Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved (42 page)

“Of course it is, and I think it is a good idea, Dane. I’m actually happy that you suggested this. It surely can’t hurt. Pre-marital counseling is always a good idea in my book. I want this marriage to work, I want it to last. I love you...”

“I want the same, and I love you too, sweetie.” His heart swelled. “Okay, great. I will give Fr. Jones a call. He is over at St. Geneviève -St. Maurice. He was holding the wedding date for us, just in case. It is a nice church, Rhapsody, and he is looking forward to helping us.”

“Is that the church over there on Jamison?”

“That’s the one.”

“Okay, I know where you are talking about. I am glad you finally said something! I wanted to get the invitations made next week and we still hadn’t come up with a venue. I’m glad that’s settled.”

“Well,” he exhaled, his heart soaring, “this is a big relief.”

Unable to sit still, he got back out and paced the room, hands in his pockets. Rhapsody picked her magazine back up and flipped through a few pages. She made a face as if smelling something rancid and rotten. “You ought to see this dress! Now who in their right mind would think this is a nice wedding dress?!” She turned the magazine around to show him, stirring the vanilla candle scented air. “It looks like a big, cheap white napkin from some fast food joint that has been wrapped around her body. Check out the price tag, Dane! They want over twenty grand for a dress that should have ‘Denny’s’ written across it.... This white wedding dress mess is for the birds. I want a black dress, or red...”

Before he had a chance to fully view the gown that caused her such dismay, she snatched the magazine back around, licked her finger, and turned another page. Her expression softened when she looked at something apparently more to her liking, then the phone rang.

He picked up. “Hello...yes, this is he...” Rhapsody kept her nose deep in the magazine. He snapped his fingers, garnering her attention. “Yes, yes, of course...just a moment, please. No, you aren’t interrupting anything.”

Rhapsody’s loosely wrapped teal and gold scarf unraveled when she tilted her head in curiosity. She tossed her magazine on the couch and began the artistic process of retying her hair wrap.

“Babe, can you put the phone down after I get in the bedroom please?”

She nodded, a slight look of bewilderment on her face. Dane entered the master suite and closed the bedroom door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he made his way over to the phone and picked it up. He waited a few seconds, then heard Rhapsody hang it up. He gripped the black receiver and sat down at the foot of his king-sized bed.

“I know you’re probably surprised,” Fr. Kirkpatrick offered with a nervous chuckle. “But, I’d been meaning to contact you sooner...
”

“Well, yes, I’m a little surprised.”

Dane cleared his throat and tried to choose his words carefully. It was almost unheard of, under the circumstances, for such a situation to occur. Fr. Kirkpatrick had been cordial to him during his last days at the rectory, even offered a hearty handshake, but no soft goodbyes, hugs or pleasantries beyond the ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’ were exchanged. Matter of fact, the man had been a bit withdrawn, as if he was unable to even look Dane in the eye at times.

Dane had gone to his office, on his last day, only to find that Fr. Kirkpatrick was unwilling to open his door, though he knew the man was inside.

His heart flooded as he felt anxiety over the phone, the fear of a potential show-down. Maybe the man was calling to see if Dane was still sure about his decision—perhaps thinking that possibly now, he had gotten his ‘carnal lust’ out of the way. Dane’s imagination soared as silence steeped between them.

“I am surprised you were home. Your uh, cell phone number has changed I see. I called that first...then, I realized it was no longer your number once someone else answered. I contacted Fr. Daniels who I’d heard had seen you not too long ago, and he had a current number for you.”

Boy, word gets around fast.

“I see, okay...” Dane ran his hand along his jeans, wanting the man to just spit it out, come clean, say what he called to say so they could move on with their lives.

“I heard you were getting married, Dane.” Fr. Kirkpatrick cleared his throat and coughed. The older man always paused after his rough coughing spells, so he gave him space and waited patiently. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Fr. Kirkpatrick.”

I would have liked for you to marry us, but that obviously will not happen...

Dane bit down on the sudden anger sweltering inside of him. That was one of the penalties for running off into the sunset after love...you sometimes lost friends along the way.

Fr. Kirkpatrick paused, cleared his throat again.

“I’m calling because, well, I wanted to tell you something that I should have told you before you left.”

The bedroom door slowly swung open and Rhapsody stuck her head in.

She smiled at him, mouthing, “Is everything okay?”

He smiled back, winked and mouthed back, “Yes.”

She nodded and closed the door behind her.

“Okay, go right ahead,” Dane offered as he reached down and slid his gym shoes off, and let them thud on the floor. Then he lay back on the bed, slid a hand under his head and settled onto the comfort of the caramel and ivory duvet. 

“When I saw your lady friend attend the church that afternoon, I noticed her from the back of the room.” He sniffed. “It was crowded that Sunday. It always was when you’d speak, so we’d put in the previous Sunday’s announcements that you’d be speaking, sure of a good turnout... Regardless of that, the crowded sanctuary, I notice new visitors, because I like to take the time later to introduce myself and invite them to return. I knew I hadn’t seen her before.”

Dane continued to listen, his interest piqued.

“Before you spoke to her, when you reached the end of the sermon, I noticed she began to move in her seat, and I saw how she looked at you, a familiar look, like she knew you...and she had a big grin on her face.” He coughed. “She was in the back of the church, but she looked at you like the sun rose and set on you.” A pause. “Then, as people were leaving, she approached you and I saw how you looked at her in turn, Dane...” his voice dropped a few octaves, “...then I knew without a doubt, that she was the woman the others were speaking about, the one that you had been seeing. I saw the look on your face, and I knew she wasn’t
just
a friend...that you were in love, possibly even before
you knew
; of that, I’m not sure.”

Dane chewed his inner jaw, hanging onto every utterance from the man. His muscles tightened then relaxed as he tried in vain to understand where the conversation was going. He was growing impatient, but his interest urged him to stay the course and not interrupt.

“In any case, I watched you and knew that you were in deep. You weren’t doing or saying anything in particular, it was just the way you two looked at one another and... you held her gaze a bit longer, and touched her a bit more. I
knew
that look so...I took matters in my own hands to try and address the whole situation with you.”

“Yes,” Dane said blandly, “I remember the talk at the mall, Fr. Kirkpatrick. Well, that is all water under the bridge now, so...” He’d had about enough, so he sat up and scratched his head, ready to get the conversation over with. It appeared to him that the man hadn’t accepted things had changed,
he’d
changed, and he was not going to offer any flowers at the funeral of his priesthood.

“Yes, it is water under the bridge but I want you to know something. I was
you,
Dane. I was you, in 1981.”

Dane’s throat felt itchy, as if he’d eaten a walnut and fragments of it refused to be swallowed, irritating his pallet on its scratchy way down.

“My wife had been dead for years and I was deeply entrenched in the Church out of duty, because my heart followed the calling and it was a welcome reprieve. Then, this woman came, a widow, and... I looked at her and she stopped my heart.” He paused. “She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, about five years my junior, but had the heart of a child and the mind of a wise person. She was witty, faithful, loved God, and she was in a world of pain. She came to me for counseling, and we fell in love, Dane...we fell in love, and I was so ashamed.” The man’s deep voice rattled.

Dane stood now, his mouth pressed to the receiver, so close, he was afraid Fr. Kirkpatrick would hear him breathing more loudly than usual. Emotions traveled over the line like fresh wounds, like a new coat of paint right over the old man’s beating heart.

“I prayed and prayed, Dane. I prayed to God to please deliver me from the feelings.”

I’d done the same, but God knew I really didn’t mean it...

“He didn’t, Dane...the feelings stayed so I packed my things and left. I left that parish without another word to her and started fresh at another church. Many years passed, and I felt terrible, Dane. Not for falling in love, but for the way I left things with her. I loved her, and she loved me...”

The silence stretched between them for a while.

“We didn’t take the relationship to a physical level, though it was tempting, but my heart was wrapped around hers so tightly, we were killing each other. I felt ashamed...because I also felt like in some way I was cheating on my late wife. I wrote the woman poetry, beautiful words from my soul.” His voice trembled. “I told her things I hadn’t told another person on the planet. We confided our deepest secrets.”

This sounds all too familiar...

Dane knew exactly what the poor man was talking about—that need to purge oneself into the world of your soulmate, to be cleansed and purified, through and through.

“And I just left because I knew I’d have to choose between the Church and her...and I chose the Church, Dane.”

Was it his imagination or was Fr. Kirkpatrick crying? The way the man’s voice shook—he’d never heard him that distraught, so sad and sullen.

“I’m sorry for your pain,” Dane offered. “I suppose you made the choice that was right for you, Fr. Kirkpatrick. We chose differently, for the same situation, and neither of us is right or wrong, we just made the decisions that made sense to us, that would lead us to where we felt God was taking us.” He sighed, still trying to take it all in.

“That’s just the thing. To this day, I don’t know if I made the right choice. I did what I thought I was
supposed
to do...but I’ll never know now.” He cleared his throat and continued. “So, when I told you to not continue to see this woman, I realize now, it wasn’t just out of me looking out for you, as I convinced myself at the time. No, it was because I was reliving history through
you
, and it scared me...and a part of me smiled when I saw that meeting notice to Bishop Thayer and myself. I smiled, Dane. I knew who you’d choose, what you were about to do...and I knew you’d get what I never got, a second chance!”

And then, the tears flowed on the other end of the phone. Fr. Kirkpatrick was not an emotional man, and this tore at his heart, reached down to his center and pulled and tugged on it for dear life.

“Before you even uttered a word,” he kept going, his voice trembling, “I figured out what that meeting was about. Dane... you were leaving us to go follow your heart, because the heart wants, what the heart wants! I could see the distance in your eyes, from days before, weeks actually. You were already disconnecting, just going through the motions. You’d made peace with yourself and your decision, and you were respectful, but strong, and adamant! You went on, helping others, carrying out your duties, but you had a new peace about you—you glowed. You didn’t choose her over the Church; you chose love over the parish. God bless you, young man and your new bride!”

And just like that, the phone call ended...

Dane just stood there, his world spinning. No wonder Fr. Kirkpatrick had protected him in the meeting and no wonder, he’d dropped hints at the mall that day, that he too, had been in his same shoes. It all made sense now, the way the man was paying close attention to him, looking for the signs, noticing things others would have easily dismissed.

Like the day in the church garden, when he’d seen them having lunch, his expression grave… But now Dane realized the man wasn’t angry with him, he was simply sad. Through him, he’d seen the second chance at love lived out right before his old, tired eyes, and it made all those aged feelings resurface, brand new. Pain rekindled, remembered, lest he forget, like the host dipped in Jesus’ blood for the Holy Communion. In that man’s eyes lived great sadness, which he’d mistaken as a nasty glare. He’d meant no harm to Dane, he simply wished he could do it all over again too, and have a second chance at love...

~***~

Rhapsody leaned against the off-white barricade of the small hallway in the church. Her white, form fitting, mermaid-style long gown with a sky blue sash wrapped around the waist was a sight to behold. She’d paired it with the perfect mixture of sensuality, modernity and playfulness. She pushed the lacey fringe from her veil away from her eyes, she continued to daydream. The bride-to-be had forfeited the notion of a blood red dress, though Dane hadn’t necessarily spoken against the idea. However, his raised brow gave away his opinion loud and clear. Regardless, she loved that he hadn’t tried to talk her out of it, but her mother sure did and she just so happened to fall in love with the damned white thing, hanging there all pretty, dazzling, making her swoon in the tiny bridal shop.