by Aimée
“Thank you”
“You’re very welcome,” murmured Angela in the same hushed tones. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Greyson nodded and folded all her vestments into her bag, giving herself time to recover from her burst of emotion. When she could trust herself to speak without her voice breaking, she turned towards Angela. She dearly wished they could just go to a bar and get plastered, but it was still early afternoon, and somehow, since despite having shed the ceremonial garb she was still wearing her clerical shirt and dog collar, it didn’t seem like a viable option.
“Would you like to go and have something to eat?” she finally suggested to Angela. Angela grinned: “Why not? Wow – you really belie Jane’s description!”
Greyson looked at her, bemused: “I’m sorry?”
“Jane Austen. The vicar – in Mansfield Park - “A clergyman has nothing to do but be slovenly and selfish—read the newspaper, watch the weather, and quarrel with his wife.” You’re the opposite of slovenly, at least – couldn’t say about the rest, but the way you’re folding those clothes…”
“Army training… And you should see my living room – I might fit the description. But this cassock is only on loan – I want to get it back in good shape.”
“Right – are you inviting me to yours, Vicar?”
Greyson mentally scanned the contents of her kitchen and shook her head – she hadn’t had time to go shopping before the retreat, and anyway – it probably wouldn’t be a good idea…
“Err …Why don’t we go to a café instead – I’m not sure there’s anything edible at home.”
“Okay – works for me.”
A little later, they found a cosy corner nook in one of the trendy vegan/no-gluten/organic friendly coffee shops that had popped up in the town over the last few years. While Angela ordered Eggs Benedict and chai, Greyson decided she would celebrate her ordination in her own way. Angela eyed Greyson’s plate with raised eyebrows: “Really?”
“Why not?”
On that, Greyson scooped up the glacé cherry sitting on top of the whipped cream and sprinkles covered brownie and offered the spoon to Angela. Unthinkingly, Angela leant forward and accepted the offering, linking eyes with the blonde vicar.
“Dessert before the main course… Hmm…are you leading me into temptation, Vicar?”
Greyson blushed and lowered her eyes. If Angela could read into her mind, she would see even more unmentionable thoughts…She still couldn’t believe Angela had come. She cleared her throat: “So …How did you know about …?”
“Emily. She told me and… Well, I didn’t want you to – I thought – I thought it would be educational.” She couldn’t possibly say she didn’t want Greyson to feel like she had no one in the world…
“Oh – educational – I see.”
Greyson’s eyes suddenly darkened and she chewed on her lower lips, instantly making Angela feel bad about her lie. She couldn’t bear the older woman’s puppy dog eyes and finally confessed: “Not only that. I wanted to – I wanted to be there for you.”
“Really? You did? I thought you – well, I thought you were still angry about me not telling you…And then, you still don’t like it very much, do you?”
Angela sighed. No, she hadn’t found faith in a few weeks, and the morning ceremony hadn’t been a Damascus moment for her. But she truly held that everyone had the right to believe in what they wanted – to be what they wanted, too, for that matter. So she had to accept Greyson’s calling if she wanted her as a friend. She had missed her those last few weeks, and she wondered why. She wondered why she hadn’t just called or sent a text. She didn’t behave like herself when she was with Greyson. In fact, right now, the butterflies in her stomach were leading a merry dance, and she couldn’t explain why.
“No – I don’t,” Angela admitted. “But it’s your choice. And – and you all seemed very happy.”
“I could tell you they were tears of joy, yes, but…” Greyson wasn’t sure what to say. She had felt happy, and the tears had come unexpectedly.
“No”, replied Angela thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think you were. But you don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”
“Angela, I – I would if I could, really, but… I’m not sure I know myself. Maybe – you know, when you’re working on something for a long time, and then – well, just like that, it’s over. Maybe that’s why – I mean – it’s not exactly over, because it’s a beginning for me, but…”
Greyson fell silent, because she couldn’t explain better. She couldn’t tell Angela how forlorn she had felt in the vestry – how she had thought she had made the biggest mistake of her life – how she couldn’t possibly begin a new relationship now. Faced with the woman who – she couldn’t lie to herself anymore – she was attracted to, and had been from their first meeting, she couldn’t find the words to explain exactly what she had got herself into. Angela reached for her hand and the warmth of the sudden human contact compounded her misery. Maybe now she was ordained she should just move away, so she shouldn’t be tempted. But she had promised Emily she would stay. And she had promised herself she wouldn’t run. Maybe she could just talk to Angela? After all, it may not be for long – not that she would leave the Church – not after such an arduous path. But mentalities were changing. She could live with another “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy if it came to that. Or maybe she would just sin and accept the guilt. Because if – and it was a big, a huge “if” – she and Angela were to make a go of it… If she forgot the age difference - and the religious difference – and the slight hitch that Angela was straight…What woman would accept a celibate relationship?
“I get it. You don’t have to explain, really, Greyson. I would offer a taste of eggs and toast, but I’m not sure I can compete with your plate. On the other hand, if you felt inclined to share a little of that luscious brownie…”
Greyson grabbed her plate and drew it playfully towards herself: “No way! You’ll have to get your own!” She dug her spoon in the dessert and made a big show of savouring her mouthful of brownie and cream. Angela sighed and mimed wiping her eyes. Both women giggled. For the rest of the meal, they discussed Angela’s work, carefully avoiding any other mention of religion. Angela suggested a walk and Greyson was more than happy to oblige – she didn’t want to talk, but neither did she want to be alone either. She would be, soon enough, and then she would have too much time to come to terms with her new position and its demands.
Chapter 24
If I could see you in a year, I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers, Until their time befalls.
If only centuries delayed, I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen's land.
If certain, when this life was out, That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind, And taste eternity.
But now, all ignorant of the length Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee, That will not state its sting.
Emily Dickinson
Greyson couldn’t have dreamed of a worst day for a wedding, and yet the soon-to-be-wed couple looked radiant. Oblivious to the grey, rainy November day outside, the Reverend Emily Jones and Edgar Arlingham gazed at each other with the proverbial stars in their eyes. The church was crammed full of Edgar’s friends and Emily’s parishioners. Edgar’s family sat in the first rows and Greyson caught a glimpse of Angela, flanked by two men, probably her brothers. Since she knew Emily had no family, she supposed the page boy who was tugging on his bow tie and the cute little flower girl who’d just dissolved into tears in the middle of the aisle were related to Edgar. She tried to remember if Angela had mentioned nieces and nephews, but her mind was a blank. Emily’s and Edgar’s would be the first wedding for which she was going to officiate entirely on her own, and she had to use all her might to steady her nerves. She said a quick prayer, crossed herself
and went to stand in front of the pulpit to start the ceremony, before beckoning to Angela.
“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love, which any of us can convince ourselves we are.” As she read the words from Louis de Bernières’ Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, Angela couldn’t help glancing at Greyson, and when their eyes met, the vicar blushed and lowered her eyes. Angela stammered and went on: “Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.” As she went to sit back down, Angela looked at the vicar again, and decided it couldn’t go on – she had to know. She had never imagined she could be attracted to a woman, but she couldn’t find any other way to define her feelings for Greyson. They had to talk. Sooner rather than later.
One of the local hotels was hosting the reception for the newlyweds and when Angela learnt from Emily that Greyson had excused herself from the aperitive and formal dinner for a family emergency but promised she would try and drop in during the evening, she could have screamed. Instead, she forced herself to remain calm, eat the delicious meal and make small talk with her table neighbours. After dinner, the guests moved to another room where a small orchestra had set up. Many of Emily and Edgar’s friends were proficient ballroom dancers and Angela found a chair and enjoyed her live “Strictly” performance – with older, less naked dancers but quite as intricate legwork. She periodically glanced at the clock, and around eleven thirty, she had given hope of seeing Greyson that night and was trying to find a way of disappearing without offending her new step-mother or her father. As she rose and made her way to where she had seen them dancing, she bumped into a newcomer and stumbled.
“At least I wasn’t carrying a drink this time…”
Angela could feel a smile rise on her lips as she recognised the familiar voice: “Thank goodness for that, Vicar – don’t think this dress would do well in the washing machine. Are you okay? I mean – your family emergency…”
Greyson winced and then nodded. Then, before Angela had time to lose her nerve, she mumbled: “I don’t suppose you’d like to dance, would you? Not that I can do tango, but we could just kinda – fake it…”
Greyson smiled, and Angela saw her shoulders relax and her eyes twinkle: “I would love to, Ms Arlingham. May I?” Greyson took Angela’s right hand and put her other arm around the redhead’s waist, drawing her close, their busts almost touching. She guided Angela’s left hand under her own shoulder and began to count sotto voce with the music. Soon, they were giving a very creditable version of a basic tango around the room, Angela trying to follow Greyson’s lead as best as she could. Angela’s red dress and Greyson’s black clothes – she was still in clerical garb as she had had to leave from the church in a hurry – fitted the latin rhythm perfectly, and they made a striking couple.
When the music ended, Greyson dipped her partner in true ballroom fashion and some of the other dancers applauded. Both women blushed and Angela drew Greyson to a quiet corner of the room. “Why didn’t you tell me you could dance, Vicar?” she asked accusingly. Greyson chewed on her lower lip: “Well – it never came up. And I didn’t know I still could – it’s been a while.”
“Don’t tell me this is from your army days – I can’t imagine there was much time for dancing.”
“You’d be surprised – but of course, it wasn’t quite the done thing for a woman to lead when I attended officers’ balls. Not that I attended many. No – secondary school. Very posh secondary school with mandatory dance classes – and as it was a girls’ school – well, we took turns leading.”
“Well – seems you still have what it takes…”, murmured Angela. She leant forward slowly. Her lips brushed Greyson’s cheek, inched towards her lips and settled fully on them, pleading for a response. Greyson stiffened and then let go, yielding to the demand with an urgency of her own, deepening the kiss and for an instant losing her will and mind. When their lips parted, Angela got up, grabbed her purse and beckoned to Greyson. It took no more than a minute for Reverend Greyson Walsden to follow meekly in Angela’s wake. She didn’t think – she didn’t want to think. When she caught up with her, Angela was already at the front desk of the hotel…. “Yes, a double if you have, please… Thank you.”
They didn’t talk in the lift. Angela unlocked the door and strode in the room, throwing her purse on the nearest chair. As Greyson stood there, eyes riveted on the king-size bed, Angela came up to her, gently detached her dog collar, unbuttoned her shirt and teased her arms out of it. The shirt fell to the floor and Greyson let herself be drawn to the bed…It would be the first time after Elaine… So long… Too long… Could she? She shouldn’t. Did she want to? As Angela ran her hands all over her neck – her arms – reached for her breasts, a finger touching, caressing, circling them – Greyson let a small whimper escape. She didn’t have a choice – her body was already obeying the fantasies her mind had been making up ever since she had met Angela for the first time. Never mind the Church – love had no rules – they weren’t hurting anyone. She marvelled at the way Angela was taking charge. She remembered her first time with Elaine – how she had been petrified by fear. The older woman’s fingers had guided her to ecstasy and with time she had managed to banished the images of her failed marriage to the very back of her mind and to learn how to pleasure herself and another woman. Angela’s fingers left her skin and she already missed their touch – she reached out tentatively, re-establishing contact and then Angela was naked too. She drank the younger woman’s body with her eyes – so beautiful – so confident. Too late to stop – she couldn’t. She reached out and found Angela’s intimacy with her fingers and her mouth. She explored the new territory, feeling Angela tense, thrill and shudder at her touch…They moulded into each other - suddenly Greyson tensed…The throbbing intensified, her ears buzzed, her breathing shortened, her heart pounded, her mind blurred and her body concentrated on one special spot – it exploded into bliss…
When Greyson opened her eyes the next morning, as the sun filtered into the room, she looked at the sleeping woman curled up beside her and sighed. How could something feel so right and be so wrong? She hadn’t expected to sleep – she hadn’t shared a bed for a long, long time, but Angela had fitted naturally into her arms and they had dozed off together in the early morning hours. Greyson didn’t want to wake her companion so she slipped out of the bed quietly, not without a light kiss on the redhead’s hair, though. She almost stepped on her discarded dog collar and another, deeper sigh escaped her as she picked it up. How could she make it work?
Greyson started when she felt a presence beside her. She had knelt in front of the window, trying to find peace in her haunted mind, and had lost herself in prayer. She opened her eyes and took in the tousled red hair and the shapely figure hidden only by a bath towel. Despite herself, she grinned and drew Angela to her, burying her face in the towel, wanting nothing more than to tear it down and to drag Angela back to bed. She had almost convinced herself she was still dreaming and she didn’t want to wake up. Apparently Angela had the same idea, because she lowered herself to the floor and they discovered that the plush carpet could be an adequate substitute to the bed for cuddles. Only a sudden hard contact between her shoulder and the foot of the bed made Greyson yelp and come back to the reality of the situation – she, a fifty-something veteran Lieutenant Colonel, M.C, a doctor and a vicar to boot, was making love to a woman on a hotel room carpet… She abruptly severed their embrace and stood up shakily: “Angela – we can�
��t – I can’t!”
“We can’t what?” asked the redhead, bemused and still a little sleepy.
“Do that – be together – like that! I can’t – !”
Greyson was biting her lower lip so hard she was almost drawing blood, but to no avail – she felt her eyes moisten and she hurried to the bathroom to hide her tears. She felt miserable, all the more since she had for a blissful night forgotten everything – her past and her future. She had allowed herself to live in the present and the present had given her more than she could have hoped. However, she had betrayed her Church, Angela, and herself. She threw water over her face and looked into the mirror, not liking what she saw – her drawn face, her dampish, sweaty hair, her wrinkles and her tender lips – betraying her age and the incongruity of the previous night. She set her mouth in a hard line and walked back into the room, where she began to dress without a word, her back to Angela, as if she had any modesty to preserve left. She felt a kiss on the nape of her neck and winced.
“Greyson – last night was – wonderful. I had no idea it could be… If you think I’m regretting it – don’t!”
Greyson sighed and kept her back to Angela. She had to be strong. She took a deep breath and turned to face her companion: “Darling – it was wonderful for me too. But it can’t happen again. I’m sorry.” She winced again – she remembered how she had felt when Elaine had tried to reject her after their first kiss – she wanted to let Angela down lightly, but… It had felt so natural. How could she lie and say she didn’t want a relationship with her? She had to do the honourable thing, and it had never been harder.
“I don’t understand… I thought that – that maybe you - more than liked me too… I’ve been such an idiot!” Angela spoke the words so low she was almost talking to herself. Greyson just couldn’t bear it – she had to explain. She couldn’t let Angela think she had done something wrong. After all, the younger woman had taken all the risks – she had made the first move. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been. Greyson gulped and began her confession: “Of course I like you, darling. And – I care for you – a lot. I haven’t – haven’t felt that way for a long time. When I’m with you – it’s like – everything becomes – at the same time easier and more complicated, if that makes any sense. You bring something – I don’t know – you light up my life. But I’ve no right to say that. I’ve no right to tie you to me…”
