by I Beacham
“Thank you, Sam.”
Sam unexpectedly stood. Whatever Joey thought she’d sensed was gone and Sam was all business again. Her manner turned oddly distant.
“Well, it’s time to draw this exciting night to an end. I’ve robbed you of too much time already, Joey. You’ve work tomorrow…today, and I have an early service.” Sam was already putting her chair back against a desk and tidying up.
“Sure.” Joey stood too and gathered her belongings. She should leave.
As she moved toward the exit, Sam stopped her.
“By the way, about the ghost of the murdered bishop?”
“Yes?”
“There isn’t one,” Sam declared. A slow smile appeared on her face. “I was stringing you along. You’re too gullible.”
“You had me looking for blood stains on the floor,” Joey said.
“Good night, Joey, and thanks for everything. You’ve been a wonderful ally. Drive carefully.”
Joey headed into the night air once more and toward her car. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but something had passed between them. Her own feelings were interesting too. When had they changed toward Sam? She didn’t know, but they had.
But you didn’t fall in love with a vicar, and if you did, you weren’t going to win. Competing with God was one thing, but adding a lesbian relationship to the mix was another. This was unexplored ground. Sam might not feel the same way. It was completely possible that Sam was only expressing her thanks. She was an overworked vicar who might be a little lonely and looking for simple friendship.
Joey glanced at her watch. There was no point in going to bed. The thought of a long shower appealed more to her than sleep now. Maybe it would sharpen up her thought processes. Despite all her confusion of the night, she knew what she’d seen as Sam closed the church door. Sam’s face had held the look of disappointment.
*
“Can we talk?” Joey stood at the vicarage door.
She and Sam hadn’t spoken since their night’s adventure in the church grounds four days ago. This wasn’t unusual. They weren’t in the habit of calling each other all the time, and yet, since then, the lack of contact between them felt wrong.
Joey guessed something had passed between them that night, and the way Sam looked now, she could tell Sam had felt it too.
Normally, Sam’s face lit up when Joey put in an appearance, but there was no welcoming smile for her this evening. Sam was not her usual self, and Joey sensed she was ill at ease. Joey definitely was.
“Are you alone?” Joey asked.
Sam nodded, and without saying anything, stepped back to let her in. Joey entered and waited till the door closed. She placed her car keys on the table, hoping Sam would say something, but when she didn’t, Joey crushed the silence.
“I haven’t heard from you.”
“I’ve been busy and just trying to catch up on things,” Sam said.
Joey knew it for the excuse it was.
“I wondered if everything was okay.”
“Everything’s okay. We got our thieves,” Sam said.
“That’s not really what I was asking.”
Sam nodded, and though she smiled, Joey sensed nothing but tension, something that had never existed between them before. It had everything to do with that look Joey had seen as she’d left the church—the look of loss, of disappointment. She knew now she was right. Sam had wanted something to happen, and it hadn’t. Joey thought she knew what that was, but wasn’t sure.
“Sam, about what happened at church…after the police left, and we went back into the vestry. Is it me, or did you feel it, too?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“I’m guessing you did and I’m guessing that’s why you haven’t been in touch. And I don’t know if it’s because of something I did…or didn’t do. You know so much about me, but I know nothing about you, the you behind the vicar.” Joey sighed.
“I guess this is unfair of me coming to your place like this, but I wanted to say something, and I wanted to say it without a whole heap of congregation listening in. It’s kinda private.” Joey tried to smile.
“I really like you, Sam. Hell, I like you more than that. That night I was real close to kissing you when you were fixing my face. I didn’t because I didn’t know if you wanted that, if you could want that being a vicar and all or whether you sensed what I wanted and were disappointed in me for daring to overstep friendship.”
Sam’s face was unreadable, and Joey wondered if she was making a huge mistake. Something inside her started sinking. She wondered if Sam knew the power she had over her, a strange indefinable sway that pulled Joey toward her with such force. Joey had never felt this before. She had never looked at any woman and thought of something prolonged and enduring. And to find this was happening with a vicar was, until now, unimaginable.
“You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and friendship, Sam, and I can’t tell you what that means to me, and I’m damned afraid that what I’m standing here saying is going to ruin that. But I’m Joey who is falling in love with Sam. I warned you who I was. And I just want to see if you might feel something for me…beyond kindness and friendship.”
Sam’s continued silence stretched like elastic, and Joey felt sick.
“I’m sorry if I’ve screwed this up. I didn’t come here to make you uncomfortable.” She was desperate for Sam to say something, anything, but when she didn’t, Joey knew it was time to leave.
“Okay. Let’s whizz past the awkward bit. I’ll go, and you just forget I’ve been here.” Joey reached for her keys, but Sam stopped her.
Sam capped her hand tight over Joey’s and locked eyes.
“You haven’t,” Sam said. “You haven’t got this wrong.”
“No?”
Sam moved a step forward and placed a hand to Joey’s face letting it rest there. Joey’s unannounced arrival had taken her by surprise. Until now she’d been trying to make sense of all the crazy thoughts and emotions going through her. She had avoided Joey. Sam had been shocked by the power of what she’d felt for her in the vestry, and what it might mean. Joey’s arrival tonight meant Sam now had to address these feelings. Meditation and prayer were no longer options.
Sam had done nothing but replay that night over and over. If Joey hadn’t turned up this evening, Sam wondered if she’d have found the courage to approach her and voice what she felt. She didn’t know the answer. All she did know was that she wanted to banish the doubts, worries, confusion she could see written across Joey’s strained face. She kissed her lightly on the lips.
“I should have kissed you that night, Joey. I wanted to.”
She watched Joey close her eyes, and when she opened them, they were moist.
“I’ve never felt like this before, Sam. I’ve been scared that I was getting this all wrong, and even if I wasn’t…what this might mean for you. I’ve never fallen in love with a vicar before. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love before. I’ve never felt like this.”
They stared at each other and smiled, and Sam wasn’t sure who initiated the next kiss, but it didn’t matter. It was less chaste and lasted longer.
“What happens now?” Joey asked.
Sam couldn’t help but laugh as she wrapped her arms around Joey and pulled her close. “I think this is where two people who like each other decide they want to get to know each other better.”
“I mean,” Joey said, “I turn up on your doorstep and declare the whole enchilada. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to…or can’t.”
“You’re fretting because of my day job.”
“I’m worried. This is happening fast.”
“Yes, it is,” Sam said. “But sometimes that’s how love happens. It doesn’t make it any less real.”
“I don’t want to rush you.”
Sam broke the embrace and leaned back to look at her. “You’re worried for me. Don’t be. I’ve waited a long time for someone to come into my life again and make me fe
el like this…alive. The minute I saw you, I think I felt it then. It’s grown ever since. I don’t do this lightly.”
“When I didn’t hear from you…” Joey said.
“I didn’t know how you felt about me. I’m a vicar. Was I about to overstep the trust you placed in me? How sinful would that have been?”
Joey pulled Sam close. “I’m damned happy we’ve cleared this up. I thought I had this wrong. I would have lost everything. I would have lost you.”
Sam wasn’t sure how long they held each other, but it felt as if time stood still as she soaked up the warmth and happiness that flooded through her like the elixir of life. Yes, things were moving fast, but she knew she was tired of waiting.
“I guess I should leave…let you sort yourself out for tomorrow. Give you think time too,” Joey said as they finally pulled apart.
“Is that what you want?” Sam said.
“I thought we might want to take things slow…a step at a time.”
Joey’s honorable intentions meant much to Sam, the words perfect sense, but it wasn’t what she wanted.
“Is that what you want?” Joey asked.
Sam had missed Joey. She’d done nothing but think about consequences and possibilities. Now that Joey was here, she knew she didn’t want her to go.
“No,” Sam said.
“Oh.”
Sam couldn’t help smiling at Joey’s apparent moral dilemma. She was trying so hard to do the right thing, but Sam sensed she didn’t want to go either. She knew if she didn’t leave it would change all between them.
“Would you like to stay?” Sam asked.
“The night?”
“Yes.”
“With you?” Joey said.
“Kind of the idea, Joey.” Sam paused. “We both know what is happening here. We both know what it means. I want you to know I’m not in a habit of asking anyone to stay the night with me.” She ran her hand down Joey’s face again, loving the softness of her skin. It had been a long time since Sam had connected like this with anyone. “These moments in life are rare, and when they come your way, you should hold on to them.”
Joey hesitated for a few seconds, then answered, “Yes. Yes, I’d like to stay.”
*
Joey had made love many times before. It was always hot passion, often fueled by alcohol, and an almost desperate need for the fiery, sweaty escalation of lust to get them both to climax as soon as possible, and if they could repeat the excitement, all the better. The end product always left her with the satisfaction that she was alive and fully out there playing the field, something she could wear like a badge of honor. It was her way of connecting with life, a reassurance that she was desired and wanted. Her many partners were always “grateful” and left wanting more. They would tell her she was good in bed. But after they left, she couldn’t have told you their names.
Sex. That’s all it ever was to her, the attainment of a physical high. No emotions involved. She never felt protective or caring toward her partners. There was nothing there that bonded them together, made her, or them, want to hang around with each other for too long. They would in time recognize the shallowness of each other and not like what they saw. They would move on.
Being with Sam was different. This was a slower, gentle and respectful exploration of each other, and its excitement was keener, the joy of knowing what was to come.
Surprisingly, Sam led.
Her hands moved over Joey, exploring every part of her—her face, her neck, her breasts, her sex. Their warmth as they caressed and probed made Joey tingle and shiver. At times she felt vulnerable as if this was her first time. Perhaps it was. Syria had changed her. Here with Sam, she was discovering what it was to be made love to, that inexplicable mixture of physical and mental. With Sam, Joey felt her desire to please and to reach into her, to be one with her. This wasn’t the hard sell of plain sex. This was a slower path to reward paved with intense, adoring stimulation. Joey’s breath would catch, and Sam would slow, looking into her eyes as if checking all was okay. Sam would kiss her before continuing, a caressing of tongues, a melding of bodies.
Joey felt only protected and safe with Sam. She wanted to let down all the protective barriers she’d put in place over the years, ones she hadn’t known existed until now.
When her climax drew close and their bodies quickened in rhythm, a voice deep inside her whispered that she’d found the one. Her mother would love the irony, her agnostic daughter falling for a woman of the cloth.
A burst of ecstasy flooded through Joey taking her to the waterfall’s edge where she teetered on the abyss for what seemed like an eternity. When it passed, they held each other tight, saying nothing and listening only to each other’s fast breathing.
Joey began to pleasure Sam, and uncharacteristically took care to learn what pleased her. She mirrored Sam’s patient buildup, only changing pace when asked to or to linger longer where Sam needed her. She wondered how long it had been since Sam had made love to a woman—to anyone. She’d said she’d waited a long time for someone to come into her life again. Joey wondered who that had been.
Joey had no point of reference with vicars, but Sam was quick to respond, her excitement building fast and strong. She whimpered with every touch of Joey’s hands and lips. Her nipples stood erect, and she welcomed Joey deep into her mouth where their tongues danced. Her appetite became voracious, a hunger that needed attention, and Joey sensed it had been a long time waiting for Sam.
Sam cried out in delight as she came. She pushed herself close into Joey who felt ripple after ripple rush through Sam. She was filled with such satisfaction of giving back pleasure, thinking only of Sam’s enjoyment.
When Sam collapsed backward, drawing Joey with her, she laughed with joy.
Joey found this bonding intense, overpowering, and above all sincere. She felt the mantle of superficiality drop away from her.
Joey was receiving the greatest lesson—how to love.
Afterward, as they lay together, they spoke of intimate matters. Joey wanted to know who that “someone” was Sam had hinted at.
“Who was in your life before?” she asked.
“Her name was Louise. It was before I joined the church and was ordained. We were school friends who grew up together. As we became older, both of us realized we were more than friends. We had fallen in love and became lovers. We went to the same university.”
“What happened?”
“I made a choice, Joey. I chose the church and let Louise go. I couldn’t see how I could walk that path as a lesbian. We parted badly, and despite my attempts to see her over the years, it was always a bitter time and wounds didn’t heal. She wrote me a letter a few years ago. She was dying and in a hospice. She wanted to see me. I went, and it was a gentler time. We spoke about the past. We healed our wounds, and I was with her when she died.”
Joey reached an arm over Sam who covered it with hers.
“It was a sad time, Joey, but I’m so glad we parted friends.”
“Do you have regrets?” Joey asked.
“None. Only lessons learned. It’s what made me want to be with you tonight. You’ve come into my life, and you’re very special to me. I want you to know that.” Sam ran a hand gently down Joey’s face. “What about you? Has there ever been anyone special in your life?”
Joey’s laugh was cynical. “Hardly. I’ve been too driven by my career and had little time for anything else except quick, meaningless sex. My perceived powerful woman image has attracted women like magnetic polarity, but I’ve never wanted commitment and they haven’t been the type for that either.” Joey turned her head toward Sam. “It’s different with you. You make me feel that I can be someone real. I’ve never felt this depth of connection with anyone. You might just be changing me into an honest woman, Sam. It’ll be a miracle if you are because you’re with someone who hasn’t got a good track record.” She heard the regret in her own voice.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Sam said w
ithout hesitation. “How did you get that scar?”
There was a nasty old wound on the upper arm Joey rested across Sam.
“I was in Sarajevo. A bullet ricocheted off a wall and hit me. Hurt like hell.”
“And that one?” Sam pointed to the newer scar on her forehead. It was where her head had pushed into the kitchen faucets during the explosion. The memory sent a chill through her.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Sam said.
“It was in Balshir. The rebels fired a missile into our quarters. I was in another room, but I got hit by its force.”
“It must have been painful.”
“I lived. My colleagues didn’t.”
“Want to talk?”
“No.”
Sam hated that Joey was repressing her experiences. Sam knew she’d tried counseling but had given it up because “it didn’t work and was a waste of time.” Joey had stopped going to the sessions. This was dangerous. Repressed memories were like a boiling pot with a lid on. Eventually, the lid blew under the pressure. Memories that were forced down behaved the same way. They would fester and manifest themselves again later with unwelcome consequences. Sam was a firm believer that the earlier the intervention, the better the outcome.
She knew Joey needed help. She needed more than a friend—or lover—listening. She needed professional support. How she could convince Joey of that was a different matter. She’d dug her heels in and wouldn’t talk. Sam tactically changed the subject.
“What made you turn up today?”
She felt Joey relax.
“When I left St. Mary’s after our great roof adventure, I saw something in your face. I acted on it.”
