Charming the Vicar

by Jenny Frame

  Finn felt a surge of excitement and ran a few steps to catch up. They walked in silence for a few moments before Finn said, “I’m glad I came out tonight. I didn’t really want to, but it was nice to be around other people.”

  “I thought you wanted to be left alone.”

  “Not by you—and Quade of course. I missed seeing you at the church the past few days.”

  Bridge didn’t respond to that thought, but Finn was sure they were both thinking about the incident in the churchyard.

  “You have a great deal of biblical knowledge. Where did that come from?”

  Finn had answered all the biblical questions in the pub quiz correctly, much to Bridge’s annoyance it seemed. She looked up at the starry night sky and sighed. “I was brought up in the Charismatic Christian world. My father was a pastor, faith healer, and all-round charlatan. You know the sort—if you pledge enough money to the pastor for his new car, boat, house, you’ll receive God’s blessing.”

  Bridge stopped and turned to look at Finn. “Really? I’m not surprised you have difficulties with faith in that case.” That kind of thing was so far removed from the word of God, it was unreal. Bridget wanted to ask her so much, but was frightened of scaring her away.

  They walked down to the vicarage in quiet companionship, and when they reached Bridge’s garden gate, Finn said, “I better go then. Goodnight, Vicar.”

  Bridge felt Finn tug at her heartstrings. She looked lost and Bridge knew she had nothing to go home to. Against her better judgement she said, “Do you want to come in for a drink or coffee?”

  Finn nodded quickly. “Yes, that would be great.”

  Bridge led Finn into the kitchen and put on the kettle. “Take a seat. Coffee?”

  Finn sat the kitchen table. “Please. This is a beautiful old house you’ve got.”

  “Old is the word,” Bridge said as she got the milk out of the fridge. “Old and draughty. I have Mrs. Long, my housekeeper, but she goes home at night.”

  “I feel like I might be struck down, just being here in a vicarage,” Finn joked.

  Bridge brought the coffee over and sat next to Finn. It was a strange sensation having Finn here, like it was wrong, taboo, but it gave Bridge a thrill. She hadn’t felt these urges in so long, and now they wouldn’t go away around Finn.

  “How could you be struck down, Finn, if there’s no God to do it?”

  “Touché, Vicar.” Finn took a sip of coffee and then stared down into the liquid. “I’m not sure of anything any more. Not after Carrie—”

  Finn stopped mid-sentence and looked ready to run. Bridge immediately put her hand over Finn’s to soothe her. Finn lost her bravado when talking about her sister, and then the hurt and confusion came rushing to the surface.

  You’ve lost your faith, Bridge thought. Some things about Finn started to fall into place. She was an atheist who was losing her faith. Was that why she wanted to be so close to the church by painting it?

  Bridge squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to talk about it, but if you ever do, then I’m here, and I promise not to minister to you.”

  Finn nodded. “Something happened that made me question everything that I believed in, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

  They both looked down at their clasped hands, and broke apart. Finn immediately took out her cards and started to shuffle them. Bridge noticed she did this when she was obviously feeling stress.

  “Will you show me a trick, Magician?”

  Finn smiled at the use of the name that Bridge used to annoy her. “I don’t practice magic any more.”

  “It’s just me. Show me something.” Finn looked reluctant so Bridge tapped her red-painted fingernails on the table, drawing Finn’s attention, and said, “Show me.”

  “I think you like telling people what to do, Vicar.”

  Bridge chuckled. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll show you one if you tell me your story.”

  “What story?” Bridge asked.

  “How a beautiful, passionate woman like you could become a vicar,” Finn said.

  Bridge sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “How do you know if I’m passionate or not?”

  Finn split the deck into two and shuffled them together, now regaining that hint of cockiness. “You forget—I’m an expert on reading people,” Finn said.

  Bridge moved closer to Finn and leaned on her hand. “And what do you read in me?”

  Finn inched closer as well and looked her directly in the eyes. “I read that you keep passion tamped down so hard, that you keep that side of you at bay, because maybe you don’t want to face it, and you use that dog collar as protection from some hurt that came into your life.”

  Was she that transparent, Bridge wondered. “My story is simple. The Claremonts have always been eccentrics of sorts. Explorers, adventurers, sportsmen and women, conquering new worlds and lands. My mother was an actress and model—”

  “Wait.” Finn held up her hand. “Your mother isn’t Cordelia Claremont? The Bond girl that half the Western world had a poster of on their walls?”

  Bridget was used to that reaction when they realized who her mother was. “Yes, that’s Mama. I can tell you it was highly embarrassing to see that picture of your mother everywhere.”

  Finn had a far-off look in her eyes. “In that swimsuit, with the gun on her thigh…It’s iconic.”

  “Hmm, but hard to see. I knew I didn’t want to go down that route, although my brother did.”

  “Do you get on well with her?” Finn asked.

  “Oh yes, even after I changed my degree to theology, she was behind me. We always had it drummed into us as children that Claremonts could achieve or do anything, but in a nice way. We like to blaze a trail.”

  “What about your father?”

  “Papa was a great outdoorsman, an explorer and adventurer. He passed away five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Finn said.

  Bridget smiled despite the subject matter. “It’s okay. He died after a bad fall. He was training for a return climb to K2. He passed away doing what he loved, what brought him happiness, and that brings me comfort.”

  “I’m glad you have that,” Finn said softly.

  Bridge could hear the hurt in Finn’s voice, and had to stop herself from taking her hand. She had to change the atmosphere between them before she did something she would regret.

  “Show me your trick then, Magician.”

  Finn smiled. “I’ll show you the first card trick I ever perfected.” Finn shuffled and fanned the cards out for Bridge. “Take a card, and look at it. Remember which one it is.”

  Bridge did as asked, and placed it back into the deck.

  “Okay,” Finn said, “I’ll shuffle to make sure the deck is really mixed up.”

  Bridge watched her hands carefully as they whizzed through a few shuffles. It was hard to keep up with the speed of Finn’s fingers and hands. Once the cards were back in a neat pile, Finn held the deck in one hand, the other waiting above the deck at head height.

  Finn flicked the top of the deck and caught the card in her other hand, up above.

  “The king of clubs. Is that your card?”

  “Yes!” Bridge said with amazement. “How did you do that? I saw you put it into the deck and shuffle. How could it possibly get to the top of the deck?”

  “Watch again. Take one card,” Finn said.

  They repeated the same process, but this time when she put Bridge’s card back in the deck, she said, “You shuffle this time, Vicar.”

  She did, and handed them back. In a few seconds, Finn did exactly the same, and flicked Bridge’s card up into her other hand. “This your card?”

  “Yes.” Bridge chuckled. “That was amazing, Finn—you really are good.”

  Finn winked and said, “That’s nothing. I can turn water into wine if you want, Vicar.”

  Bridge raised an eyebrow. Finn’s overconfident streak was back with a bang. “Don’t even go there, Magic
ian. Thank you for showing me.”

  Finn put her cards away. “No, thank you. I enjoyed showing you. The past few years my illusions and tricks have been so elaborate, I’ve forgotten what it was like to do a simple card trick. Carrie used to love them.”

  “I suppose these simple tricks are the reason you fell in love with magic,” Bridget said. Finn nodded, and Bridge continued, “When you started doing your big arena shows things changed?”

  “I had to keep making things bigger and better, and at some point, it became more about Finnian Kane the character, than the magic.”

  “The character I saw on your YouTube channel is a little different to who you are in Axedale,” Bridge said.

  “Yeah, well, that Finnian Kane was an illusion, just like my tricks. Besides, all I had to worry about then was which nightclub I was going to after the show, and which woman I was taking back to my hotel room.”

  “You must have been popular with girls, a cocky young boy like you, with all your conjuring and mystique. They must have been eating out of your hand.”

  Finn rubbed the back of her head bashfully. “Yeah, I’ve never had to work hard to get a woman’s attention.” She looked up and connected with Bridge’s gaze. “All except you, but then I’m not your type.”

  “No…I suppose not,” Bridge said.

  She shouldn’t be, but Bridge couldn’t deny the attraction and energy between them. Finn was confident and cocky, but sweet and vulnerable, and Bridge had seen her reaction when she deprived Finn of her attention. She was so trainable, and that was such a lure to Bridge.

  If I had gotten hold of you before I became a woman of the cloth, I would have had fun training you, boy. Bridge chuckled to herself.

  Bridge couldn’t afford to think like that, so she changed the subject. “I was thinking—you would enjoy our cards night. We have it once a week at Axedale with Harry, Annie, and Quade. It’s always a lot of fun.”

  Finn raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You know how to play poker?”

  “Of course. My grandfather played poker with King George IV.”

  Finn shook her head. “You are the most unusual vicar I’ve ever met. You have read your Bible verses about coveting money, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, shush! We play for matchsticks. It’s about fun and conversation. So, will you come?” Bridge asked.

  “I don’t play poker,” Finn replied matter-of-factly.

  Bridge sat back in her kitchen chair and crossed her legs. As usual she saw Finn’s eyes flit up and down, trying so hard to appear as if she wasn’t staring at Bridge’s legs but failing miserably. It had been a long time since she’d felt so appreciated for being a woman, for her femininity, rather than being seen as just a vicar. Despite the revealing and sexy way she liked to dress, the dog collar tended to cancel out what she wore.

  Finn saw the woman, and that thought made her feel a flush of heat deep down in her stomach.

  “You don’t play poker? What do you mean?”

  Instead of answering. Finn took out her cards again, shuffled, then dealt two hands out onto the table. “Turn over your cards.”

  Bridge turned over the cards and found a full hand of twos. Finn turned over her hand and she had four aces.

  That cocky smile was there again. Finn said, “When I can deal you any hand I like, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone I play. I’m unbeatable.”

  “Oh, you are, are you?” Bridge tapped her nails on the table. She was itching to bring her arrogance down a peg or two, but now wasn’t the time. She had just gotten her lost sheep to talk, and she wasn’t going to frighten her away so soon. “Well, we’ll see.”

  Chapter Nine

  Finn woke up the next morning eager for the day ahead. That hadn’t happened for a long, long time, and it was because of Bridget. There was something about her that both excited and intrigued her. Finn wanted to know more.

  She arrived at the church, ready to paint, to find Quade and Bridge talking very closely at the church door. Finn got off her bike and pulled off her helmet. When she turned back around she found Bridge with both hands holding Quade’s face, and she felt an immediate stab of jealousy. It came out of nowhere and surprised her.

  Finn had never seen or suspected anything between Bridge and Quade, but what if there was? Finn stopped herself. What am I thinking? Not only didn’t she have any right to feel jealous, she shouldn’t even be thinking of anything else but Carrie, and again her guilt set in.

  She was just about to put her helmet back on and get out of there when she heard Bridge shout, “Finn? The very person.”

  She couldn’t leave now, so she put on her best false smile as Bridge and Quade approached. As Quade got closer to her, she noticed how tired and drawn she looked. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes and no,” Bridge said. “Quade lost a few of her cattle during the night and a couple are still sick.”

  Quade tried to rub the tiredness from her eyes. “Yeah, and I need to get back to them. Three fell down an embankment last night, and one is pregnant.”

  Finn couldn’t believe she’d felt jealous at all. Bridge was just comforting Quade, who clearly cared a great deal about her animals.

  “I’m sorry,” Finn said.

  “I need to sit with her until the vet says she’s out of the woods, but I had promised to help Bridge pick up the costumes and equipment for Witch’s Night at Axedale Hall.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Would you mind helping Bridge? There’s quite a few heavy boxes that need to be brought back to the church for rehearsals.”

  Finn opened her mouth to answer but Bridge did it for her. “Of course she will. How else will she expect to grow up to be a rugged butch like you, Quade, if she doesn’t do some heavy lifting?”

  “I’ll lift anything you want me to, Vicar,” Finn snapped back.

  Bridge grinned. “You see? I’m well taken care of, Quade. Off you go.”

  Quade looked at them both, her eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she nodded in agreement. “Okay then. I’ll leave you to it.”

  Once Quade was in her Land Rover, Finn said, “What did you say that for? I’m strong enough for anything you would ever need, Vicar.”

  Bridge turned and walked back towards the church door with a sway in her hips that made Finn ache inside. “Oh, shush. You’re nothing but a boy.”

  Oh God. Finn groaned internally. How did Bridge always manage to say things that were both so dismissive, bordering on offensive, that made her angry but turned her on at the same time?

  I want her. I want to show her how good I am.

  “Hey, I thought we were going to Axedale, Vicar. Jump on my bike.”

  Bridget stopped before she walked around the back of the church and looked back at her. “I love motorcycles and leather as much as the next girl, but if you think I’m going on your bike in a Chanel skirt and Jimmy Choos, then you’ve got another think coming. I’ll meet you up there—we have a church van.”

  When she walked out of sight, Finn leaned onto her bike and let out a long breath. “Jesus Christ. That woman is—”

  Finn couldn’t think of a way to describe her, but Bridge’s description of her skirt and heels painted pictures in her mind of those legs that tormented her wrapped around her bike and her waist. Bridget Claremont could top her, and Finn would enjoy every minute of it.

  A van with St. Mary’s Church written on the side came out of the church car park, and Bridge signalled her to follow. This ride was going to be torture.

  * * *

  Bridge pulled up in front of Axedale’s entrance and gathered her shoes from the passenger seat. There was no way she could drive in heels. As she turned around to open her door, she saw Finn walk towards her with helmet in hand and hair flopping across her face. You are so delicious, I could eat you all up.

  But Bridge could think of at least five reasons why that was a bad idea. Finn was too young for her, she was grieving, she wouldn’t be around for long, she was an atheis
t—one of the most renowned in the country, and a relationship would give her bishop his perfect reason to get rid of her. The intensity of the feelings she had experienced in the graveyard had frightened her, and the bishop’s phone call had compounded the matter. Trying to stay away from Finn didn’t work—she was her lost sheep and she needed to help her. Bridge resolved to pray for strength and God’s guidance when she returned to the church.

  Finn opened the door and looked at the pair of heels in Bridge’s hands. “May I?”

  Not again.

  “No, it’s okay—” Bridge couldn’t stop her taking them from her.

  She watched as Finn knelt and put on her shoes with great care and reverence, and had the biggest urge to reach down and run her fingers through that long blond fringe, grasp it roughly, and pull Finn up for a kiss.

  A verse from Proverbs kept running through her mind. Lust not after her beauty in thine heart; neither let her take thee with her eyelids.

  Thankfully Beverly, Axedale’s housekeeper, interrupted them. “Vicar, nice to see you.”

  Finn jumped up and back, and Bridge slid from the van. “Bev, how are you today?”

  “Very well. You here for the Witch’s Night paraphernalia?”

  “Yes—oh, this is Finn. She’s new to the village and here to help me.”

  Bev’s face lit up. “Oh, the magician? Mrs. Castle told us all about you—I think she was quite taken with you.”

  Bridge watched Finn’s cheeks turn red. Adorable. “Yes, I’ve heard Mrs. Castle has a thing for magicians. You better watch out, Finn.”

  It was strange the way Finn seemed so bashful about such little comments of praise, and yet when she was taking the applause of an arena, she was confident and dazzling.

  Beverly left them to get on while Bridge led them into Axedale’s grand entrance hall. “Oh my God,” Finn exclaimed as she walked into the middle of the hall. Finn looked up at the painted ceiling and walked backwards with her arms open. “This space is just—wow!”

  Bridge stood by one of the stone pillars, arms folded, and smiling at her reaction. “Not bad, is it?”