Confession

by Lily Harlem

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 Lily Harlem

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-387-2

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CONFESSION

  Romance on the Go ®

  Lily Harlem

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Mark

  On any given Sunday morning in Southwark sinners were ten a penny as they flocked to St. Agnes church. Wearing their best blazers and frocks, deviances hidden up their sleeves like worn handkerchiefs, they greeted one another with gentle murmurs. Then, after a round of worshipping hymns sent up to the Lord, and prayers of confession, their consciences were freshly laundered, ready for another week of sloth, gossip, and in some cases dalliances with the wrong side of the law.

  Reverend Mark studied the congregation, their faces a sea of expectancy and curiosity. He was new, and as such it was his first service with this London flock and his first chance to absolve their sins and share his teachings.

  But not yet. He had to be introduced first.

  As everyone waited for Reverend Gerald to take to the pulpit sounds from the outside drifted in. The ornate, stained-glass windows were no match for the London traffic. Mark’s attention turned to the elderly vicar as he gripped the wood before him and puffed up his chest, generating a slight wheeze as he did so.

  “God bless all who come here to worship and pray with us on this glorious spring morning. It’s wondrous to see old friends and new friends.” Reverend Gerald cast his attention from left to right seeming to catch the eye of everyone, in every pew.

  Reverend Mark admired the older vicar’s skill in making each individual feel special with just a glance. It was how he wanted to be. Mark had done the training and was a fully-fledged member of the clergy. But what Reverend Gerald had just done couldn’t be taught. It was the product of many years of caring for others and opening his heart to their needs.

  “As Lent draws to an end,” Reverend Gerald went on, placing his arthritic hands on the pulpit. “We begin to think of the resurrection and our Lord and savior Jesus Christ who overcame hunger and thirst, and all the needs of the physical being, while alone in the desert.”

  Mark drew his finger around his white dog collar, a stiff new one, and settled back to listen to the story he could recite in his sleep but still loved. He took strength in the teachings of the Bible. It calmed his soul—a soul that at times was tormented with his own physical needs that went beyond shelter, food, and drink.

  As the sermon continued, his attention drifted to the congregation once more. It was a mixed bunch, about half male and half female, several different skin tones, both old and young. There was a small area near the back archway for children, and a few sat quietly playing with toys, though most were with their parents and apparently captivated by Reverend Gerald.

  Mark’s last position had been in the Yorkshire Dales, a delightful village where everybody knew everyone’s name and business. He’d been there for two years, which he’d discovered was long enough. So when the chance to come to the City had been presented to him, he’d grabbed the opportunity to experience the bright lights and the challenge of a diverse, multi-cultural flock.

  Perhaps it would do him good to have more distraction in his life.

  His gaze settled on a woman, about halfway back, who was staring at Reverend Gerald. Her lips were a delicate shade of pink and her hair startling red and curled as though it had been twisted around pipe cleaners. She appeared rapt and hanging onto every word that was delivered. Her neck was slim and elegant, her skin white and delicate like fine porcelain, and she wore a pale green cardigan, undone, revealing a white blouse and a string of pearls.

  There’s something familiar about her.

  She appeared to be alone, and Mark wondered if she were visiting London for the weekend and had called in to the service, or if she lived locally. A small part of him hoped she lived locally and he’d get to see her often. Her face, surrounded by so many others with bland features, was like an orchid, an oil painting, a little piece of Heaven to feast his eyes upon.

  He clasped his fingers and dragged his gaze up toward the ornate ceiling.

  Oh worshipful Father. Forgive the thoughts that slip into my mind when I should be thinking only of you and allowing your love to fill my soul.

  Why couldn’t he help himself lately? He needed to find strength in his new place of worship and combat the need to procreate with a woman he wasn’t joined to in holy matrimony.

  Reverend Gerald was wrapping up the first part of the service, and as he did so he gestured to his right, indicating Mark. “We have a very special new member today, and that’s Reverend Mark who has joined us from Yorkshire. I’m sure you will join me in welcoming him to our parish and our loving arms.” He smiled and moved slowly down from the pulpit.

  Mark rushed to help him with the last step, cupping Reverend Gerald’s elbow to ensure he didn’t trip on his cassock.

  “Thank you, son.” Reverend Gerald smiled, then took his seat.

  Mark pulled in a deep breath, steadied himself, focused on the task at hand, and stepped up to the pulpit. A quiet hush descended, and the church suddenly brightened, the sun revealing itself from behind a cloud and bursting through the stained-glass windows in long fingers of light.

  One such finger touched the head of the girl with red hair, creating a halo effect.

  Mark caught his breath, and his belly tightened. He had never seen anything more beautiful. It was as if she’d been sent down from Heaven, an angel to save him.

  Or tempt him.

  I’m sure I’ve seen her before.

  Reverend Gerald cleared his throat.

  Mark looked at him. Oh yes, my sermon.

  “And look,” he said, forcing a smile and dragging his attention from the vision before him and nodding at the window depicting a shepherd and his herd. “The sun has come with me.”

  There were a few quiet murmurs as the congregation relaxed.

  “It truly is a pleasure to be here in this corner of London that feels like a small village. The sense of community, so Reverend Gerald tells me, is strong, and everyone looks out for one another. As we are taught by Jesus and the Ten Commandments, we must love our neighbor.” He allowed himself another look at the pretty girl. It was dangerous, though. Just the sight of her, bathed in a glorious spotlight of sunshine, was enough to take all the words from his mind.

  “And so,” he managed. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you all personally and, of course, giving Reverend Gerald a helping hand with the duties of running this divine old church.” He touched the gold pectoral cross hanging at his sternum, rubbing it between his thumb and finger for a moment. “And now we will go to our first hymn. Number two hundred and twenty.”

  Amidst a shuffle the crowd stood, and the first notes from the organ rang out. Mark took his place next to Reverend Gerald and allowed himself to get lost in words that always lifted his spirit and allowed his brain a chance to escape the desires of his body.

  Though it was hard. Knowing she was standing only yards away. Would she stay afterward for a hot drink and a biscuit in the tearoom adjoining the church? He hoped so. He longed to hear her voice. See her smile. Look
into those stunning eyes up close and see if they were as blue as they appeared to be.

  The hymn ended, and Reverend Gerald took to the pulpit again, delivering a prayer and a message from a friend who was on a missions’ trip in Africa. He reported how the fundraising was going for the upkeep of the churchyard and the new six feet tall railings that were needed to keep the place secure at night.

  A member of the congregation did a reading, short and sweet, and another hymn was sung.

  The service came to an end.

  Reverend Gerald stood, then shuffled down the steps of the altar and into the aisle. He took his time, smiling and touching hands, and as he went, his black robes dragged on the red carpet.

  Mark, with his hands clasped, followed him. He pasted a solemn expression on his face and looked straight ahead for fear of staring at the woman to his right. If he glanced at her, he might not be able to tear his gaze away.

  What is it about her?

  Behind him the congregation shuffled from the pews and wandered down the aisle. A low hum of conversation started up.

  Reverend Gerald stopped at the font, which was the junction for parishioners to decide if they were staying for tea and a chat, or heading off to get on with their day. He turned, a smile on his face, his wise old eyes sharp and his hands already outstretched to take those of his flock.

  The first woman he greeted wore a headscarf, despite the warm day, and a coat buttoned up to the top.

  “Hilda, may God be with you,” Reverend Gerald said. “How are you?”

  “And with you.” She frowned. “Not too good, you know how it is, vicar.” She shook her head and placed an arthritic hand in his.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Gerald downturned his mouth. “And Alfred, how is he faring after his hip operation?”

  “They say he’s doing okay, but it’s me that’s running around after him, so of course he’s perfectly well rested and living the life of Riley.” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Who wouldn’t be?”

  “Do give him our best and tell him we hope to see him at church again soon. Anything we can do to help, just let us know.” Reverend Gerald gestured to Mark. “Do say hello to Reverend Mark.”

  “He’s very young,” Hilda said, surveying Mark with a suspicious glint in her eye.

  “Young blood is what we need around here,” Gerald said, urging Hilda to step forward and make way for the next member of the congregation.

  Hilda took Mark’s offered hand. “I hope you’ll be happy here,” she said. “We look out for each other, you know.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Mark pressed her cool hand between both of his. “And I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone.”

  “Mmm.” She tapped her headscarf, then wandered in the direction of the tearoom.

  The next person he was introduced to was the local doctor, and then a woman with twin boys who appeared to be about nine. They were called Rufus and Raif, and Mark had no idea how anyone could tell them apart. They also looked exactly like their father, who came up behind them.

  Mark tried not to glance over peoples’ shoulders in search of the pretty girl. She might not even wait to see the clergy. Some people didn’t. They had things to do, and it was quite a queue. But he hoped she would have the time and the patience, so he’d get to learn her name at least.

  Luckily, he managed to concentrate on his task at hand, memorizing faces and names, facts and families. And after several minutes her found her standing directly in front of him.

  Up close she was even more beautiful. Throw in a splash of freckles and perfume that reminded him of a rose garden in the height of summer, and he was truly bewitched.

  Chapter Two

  Clara

  Clara looked up at the handsome new vicar standing before her. His dark eyes were familiar, and she recognized the shape of his lips. His shoulders were broader than when she’d last been in his company. She could tell, even though he wore a cassock, that he’d filled out and not in a bad way.

  “Hello,” he said, smiling and holding out his hand. “May God be with you.” He set his whole attention on her, as if breathing her in, filling himself up on her scent and absorbing her features.

  He remembers me.

  It had been a long time, but yes, he did. She was sure of it.

  She was vaguely aware of Reverend Gerald—now the line of people had disbanded—shuffling past her toward the tearoom.

  “Don’t miss out on your cuppa,” he said without looking at them. “And you’d be a fool to not sample some of Hilda’s Victoria sponge. It’s won many times at cake fairs. Far and wide other bakers give up if they know she’s entering.” He chuckled.

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” Mark said, not taking his gaze from Clara. “Be right there.”

  Reverend Gerald moved away, then shut the door behind himself.

  They were alone in the church.

  It was as if the air around them had stilled, the ancient stones settling back into place after the service and the effigies giving a sigh of relief.

  Placing her hand in his, she grinned. “Mark Travis. It’s been a long time.”

  His mouth gaped, and his eyes widened. Was he remembering that time when they’d almost…

  The moment stretched on, silence wrapping around them. Clara was aware of her pulse thudding in her ears and her belly tightening. She thought of a time when he’d caught her mouth in an unexpected kiss then pressed her up against a wall around the back of the bike sheds.

  He closed his mouth, and tipped his head.

  She laughed. “I’ll pretend I’m not offended that you can’t remember me.”

  But surely he does.

  She took her hand back and linked it with the opposite one. “Clara Jennings.”

  “Of course. Wow … Clara Jennings.” He shook his head then pushed his fingers through his hair. It stayed sticking up at the top, over his crown, and she resisted the urge to smooth it down, the way she might once have done. “Well what a turn up for the books. Fancy seeing you here?”

  He blinked several times, as though sifting through a series of flashing images of them together—hormones raging, keen to experiment, almost but not quite, going the whole way.

  “I live around the corner,” she said. “For me it’s more surprising to see you here.” She gestured to his neck. “And wearing a dog collar, too. Never would have thought you’d take that career route.”

  He smiled, reminding her of the boy he used to be before he’d gotten all tall and broad and manly. “It’s considered a calling, being a vicar, that is, rather than a career.”

  “I thought you wanted to join the Army, be in the Special Forces. You were always on the athletic team, first in the county for archery a few times if I remember rightly.”

  “I discovered I was a pacifist. Would never have worked out, all that shooting people and stuff.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  He placed his hands on his hip, and his smile broadened. “You look … really well. I mean, really well.”

  She grinned as she saw a flash of the person he used to be. Free and easy with compliments that always sounded wonderfully genuine. She’d always hoped it was because they were. “I am, thank you. London suits me. I’d had enough of village life. Leicestershire was getting old. I needed a bit more action, if you know what I mean.”

  “Action … I suppose I’ve been ready to have a little more action, too.” He held up his hands. “In terms of being in the city, that is, rather than Yorkshire.”

  She pressed her lips together and watched as he glanced at the floor, and shuffled from one foot to the other.

  Action. He wouldn’t have had any, would he? Unless he did before joining the…

  Is Mark a virgin?

  The thought stormed into her mind and whirled around like a hurricane.

  No. She was being ridiculous. He was a hot, sexy guy. Her thoughts collided, and memories besieged her, flashing through her brain in full
Technicolor.

  For goodness’ sake, when they’d been seventeen they’d gotten naked and had some fun in the back of the hay barn at Meadow Ridge Farm. Okay, they hadn’t actually done it, but they’d discovered it was possible to please each other with their hands alone, and at the same time. It had been hot, sweaty, new and exciting and thoroughly satisfying.

  “Have you been in the city long?” he asked with a slight rise of color on his cheeks.

  “Yes, I trained to be a nurse here, at eighteen, never went back.”

  “A nurse.” He pressed his lips together. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Very commendable.”

  “It pays the bills, just, and I love it.”

  “Good.” He held out his hand, as if to touch her, but quickly brought it back to his side. “It’s great to see you, really it is, Clara.”

  “I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other. I attend church every Sunday like a good girl, when I’m not on duty that is.” She held up her finger and wagged it at him. “And don’t say you didn’t think I’d turn out to be a good girl. As you’ve proven, seventeen-year-olds still have a long way to go before they find their place in the world.”

  “Is that how old we were when we last saw each other?”

  How could he not remember? Their breakup had torn her in two. She’d sobbed into her pillow for weeks. Her heart had been broken, her life over as she’d known it. Her mother hadn’t had a clue what to do with her. Her friends quickly became bored of her moping and refusing to go out. All she’d wanted was for Mark to be her boyfriend again.

  But that hadn’t happened. The next thing she knew his parents had moved to another county, and she never saw him again.

  Until now.

  “Yes, seventeen,” she said. “At the school summer disco, don’t you remember?”

  “I’ll have to try and cast my mind back.”