Charming the Vicar

by Jenny Frame

  Finn’s heart started to beat faster. Could she have taken Bridge’s mind away from her pain, the way Bridge did for her with Carrie?

  “Why did that happen, do you think?” Bridge inched closer to her. She reached out and caressed Finn’s face with her fingernails. Finn felt goosebumps break out all over her body. Her lips parted to match Bridge’s and they were getting lost in each other’s eyes. They were so close to kissing when the timer on the oven beeped, and Bridge jumped back from her.

  “Bridge—”

  Bridge had managed to pull herself together. “Go get my dinner, Magician.”

  And the moment was gone. Finn got up and walked to the kitchen, but before she went through the door she said, “Don’t beat yourself up about forgetting your pain sometimes. I never forget that I’ve lost Carrie, but I forget about my pain for some brief times, times when I’m with you.”

  Bridge didn’t reply, so she walked into the kitchen, a million words left unsaid between them.

  * * *

  “You’ll need to thank your housekeeper for me,” Finn said. “That was delicious.”

  Bridge handed Finn her plate and she took it through to the kitchen. Finn returned with the bottle of wine to top up Bridge’s glass.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk, Magician?” Bridge joked.

  “I doubt that would work on you, Vicar.” Finn sat back down on the couch with a fresh bottle of lager for herself.

  “You’re right. I always like to keep firm control of myself and my surroundings.”

  Bridge kicked off her heels and put her feet onto the coffee table. She noticed Finn’s breathing hitch and her fist clench tightly.

  Bridge always noticed responses in other people, another skill she’d used in her former existence. It was good to know Finn was attracted to her, but also hard to resist. There was nothing better as a top than taking someone who had such confidence and swagger and putting them in their place, which was usually at her feet. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “What is it?” Finn asked.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “So, will you finish your story? How did you end up taking holy orders?”

  “That’s complicated to explain, especially to someone like you,” Bridge said.

  Finn looked at Bridge and her gaze was open and warm. “Bridge, I’m an atheist in crisis. I don’t know what I believe any more, but even if I was certain, I would never disregard your beliefs, which I know you hold sincerely.”

  Bridge took a sip of wine and cleared her throat. “I went through a really dark time. Harry and my family didn’t know what to do with me. Ellen’s wedding pictures were in Hello! and Tatler—impossible to miss a big society wedding. It was so hard to see, and hard to refuse her phone calls and texts. She couldn’t understand why I suddenly broke off all contact with her. I even got an invitation to her wedding.

  “I did everything to forget my pain—drink, drugs, sex—everything to make me forget the woman I’d loved since I was at school. About eight months after Ellen’s wedding, my aunt Gertie, who was a vicar at the time, was leading a protest group to introduce women bishops in the Church of England. I think mainly to try and keep me busy, she asked me to help organize the protest group. I spent a year handing out leaflets, making phone calls, going on marches, and all the time listening to my aunt’s speeches about what God meant to her, and why it was important for women to be involved at the head of the Church.”

  She felt Finn’s hand slip closer to her on the couch, until their fingertips were touching.

  “I guess that had a big effect on you,” Finn said.

  “It did. It crept up on me slowly, but through her words I saw and felt God’s love, and my pain didn’t disappear, but I saw a sunny future for the first time, instead of blackness, and felt God’s love filling my heart.”

  “My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever,” Finn said.

  “Psalm 73:26. My, you are a mine of Bible quotes.” Bridge smiled.

  Finn took a long swig of lager and said, “That’s what childhood indoctrination will do for you. So you felt hope again?”

  “Yes, I had hope in the world and in life again. I wanted to share God’s love and word with people the way my aunt did, so I left my life of partying behind me and went back to university to study theology. You can imagine the look on my professor’s face when I turned up on the first day.”

  Finn laughed. “I can imagine. You certainly took me by surprise, Vicar.”

  Bridge nodded. “I know I’m a little different, but my dearest wish is that people can see faith in God and the world isn’t boring and old-fashioned.”

  Finn was silent for a time, and appeared to be thinking hard.

  “What’s wrong, Finn?”

  “It’s funny, isn’t it? I started off with a faith in God when I was a kid, and listening to my father preach destroyed my faith rather than strengthen it like your aunt did for you.”

  “What was your father like?”

  Bridge saw Finn stiffen and felt her anger simmer close to the surface. “A failed magician who realized there was more money in selling miracles and fake faith healing than pulling a rabbit out of a hat.”

  Finn got up quickly and walked over to the fireplace. Her emotions were clearly still raw, and Bridge didn’t want to push her lost sheep any more than was necessary.

  “You don’t have to talk about it, if you’re not ready. Come and sit with me.”

  Finn sat and rubbed her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, you were just so honest with me, and I can’t—”

  “Finn?”

  Finn turned around and gazed at her with such vulnerability that Bridge had to touch her. She placed her fingers under Finn’s chin and said, “This isn’t a race. You can tell me today, tomorrow, or never tell me at all about your pain, just as long as you let me be your friend and know I’m here for you. Besides, it’s nice to have someone listen to me for a change. Vicars usually do all the listening to other people’s problems.”

  Finn grasped her hand and gave her a smoky look. “I’m here for you, Bridge. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

  The emotional moment had turned hot and all Bridge could think of was kissing her. There was something indefinable between them, an undeniable chemistry that was so hard to resist, but she had to, for the sake of her heart and her career.

  Don’t. Take a breath.

  Bridge pulled her hand away. “I think I better go.”

  “Please sit with me for a while longer. It’s nice to have someone else’s company at night.”

  Bridge couldn’t refuse the longing in that voice, so she smiled and said, “Fill up my glass.”

  Finn smiled and hurried to fill the wine glass. “I performed magic today.” She’d wanted to tell Bridge about this all day, as she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

  “You did?” Bridge said.

  “Yeah, for a couple of kids in the baker’s and for Mrs. Castle.”

  “Martha would have enjoyed that. I think she’s a little bit in love with you. You’re lucky she’s not forty years younger.” Bridge smiled.

  “At least I’m someone’s type.” Finn meant that as a joke, but she saw Bridge’s smile falter.

  Bridge cleared her throat and said, “How did performing magic make you feel?”

  Finn took her cards from her jeans pocket and started to shuffle them. “It felt good, exciting, different.”

  “Why different?” Bridge asked.

  “I had forgotten the simple pleasure of doing one-to-one magic with someone. My act has changed so much since my early days in the pubs and clubs. The more successful I got, the bigger and more spectacular my shows got, and then I got caught up in the TV shows debunking faith healers and psychics. I forgot the pleasure of seeing wonderment on someone’s face when they see magic done right in front of their eyes.”

  “Maybe you need to go back to basics then,” Bridge said.


  “I promised myself that I wouldn’t perform magic any more. Not after Carrie—” Finn closed immediately, and held her cards so tight, her knuckles went white.

  Bridget placed her hands on hers, and Finn relaxed considerably.

  “What happened, Finn?”

  “The day she died, I went home to our house. I drank myself to sleep, but—” Finn struggled. This was so hard to say out loud.

  “Tell me, Finn.”

  “I woke up during the night, and I felt something, someone sitting on the end of my bed. I was crapping myself. So I sat up, and just as I was going to snap on the light, my phone started to ring. It was Carrie’s number calling.”

  Bridge gasped. “Did you answer?”

  Finn nodded and tears came to her eyes. “I could hear her voice. She said not to worry about her. She’d arrived safely and it was nice there. My heart was thumping. I was panicking, sweating and shouting for her. That’s the last I remember before I woke up.”

  Bridge scooted closer and put her arm around Finn, and kissed her head. “What did you feel the next day?”

  “My logical mind told me it was an elaborate dream, brought on by grief and alcohol.”

  “What did your heart tell you?” Bridge asked.

  “That it was her. The thing that made me believe it even more was Carrie’s bear. When I came home from the hospice, I put it in her bedroom, but when I woke up, it was on the foot of my bed. Exactly where I’d felt someone sit the night before.”

  “It sounds like much more than a dream, Finn.”

  “Exactly, and I’ve spent my career debunking people who believed in things like that.” Finn shouted, “I’m a fraud and I let Carrie die frightened, because I shattered her faith.”

  Finn threw her cards into the fire across the room and they started to burn, while she broke down in tears.

  Bridge held her in her arms and rocked her back and forth. “Shh. It’s all right, Finn.”

  The pain that was locked inside came tumbling out. She tried to struggle from Bridge’s arms half-heartedly.

  Then she heard Bridge whisper in her ear, “Dear Lord, our God. You’re close to people whose hearts are breaking, those who are discouraged and have given up hope. May you who see their troubles and grief respond when they cry out.”

  She stopped struggling and gripped onto Bridge tightly, drinking in every ounce of comfort she could give her.

  * * *

  The next morning the sun was just starting to rise in the autumnal sky. This was Archie Winchester’s favourite time of the day. There were no villagers or bloody tourists milling about the streets, just him and his dogs, and his thoughts.

  He was frustrated after his confrontation with Finnian Kane yesterday. Everything about her disgusted him. A lesbian who looked more like a boy than anything, with an outrageous haircut, and an atheist to boot, who had caused no amount of trouble in the religious community.

  This would never have been allowed when Lady Henrietta’s father was earl.

  He slowed to allow his dogs to sniff by the bright red village postbox.

  Archie had been good friends with the late earl, and since he hadn’t been interested in village matters, he’d let Archie have pretty much a free hand with the church. But since the countess had taken control, he had been sidelined.

  He walked a little further into the main village, and noticed the door of Mason’s cottage. A woman crept out of Finn’s cottage and down the garden path.

  Typical.

  Finnian Kane’s scandalous reputation with women didn’t disappoint. He wondered who the female was, and then when she reached the gate he saw a dog collar.

  “Bloody hellfire. It’s the vicar,” he said out loud.

  He watched Bridge walk out the gate, check around to see if anyone was watching. Then satisfied it was all clear, she hurried off home.

  “You’ve done it this time, Vicar. I’m going to nail you to the bloody wall.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Finn set up her easel in the churchyard nice and early. She had gotten the best sleep she’d had since Carrie’s death and awakened not with sadness or more energy than she knew what to do with, but just with contentment and calmness.

  Finn hoped she would see Bridge when she arrived at work. This morning when she awoke, she’d found a note from Bridge saying she had left. Selfishly, Finn wished that she would’ve still been there in the morning, but understood it probably wouldn’t look good for the village vicar to be seen leaving her cottage in the morning, no matter how innocent their shared evening had been.

  It was funny to Finn that even though nothing happened between them in a sexual sense, their time together had felt more intimate than any sex she’d ever had. Finn was so at ease in Bridge’s company. She didn’t have to be Finnian Kane the illusion, the creation she had shown the world. No, she could just be Finn, and show her vulnerability without fear.

  Finn had cried out a lot of grief on Bridge’s shoulder, pain she had kept inside far too long, and Bridge calmed her soul. She was sorry she had thrown her cards in the fire in anger. She’d had them since she was a child, but maybe it was time to let the past go and start a new chapter in her life.

  Finn finished getting set up and sat back on the churchyard bench. It was a crisp, bright autumnal morning, perfect for painting. She put in her earphones and started to play her painting playlist. The church painting was more than half done, but there was still some way to go. The stone carvings around the walls were beautiful but intricate, and Finn was determined to capture them correctly, despite her rustiness.

  Maybe Bridge would like this when it’s finished.

  Just as she thought that, she became aware of someone by her side. She looked up and saw the woman who made her heart thud and her sex pound with anticipation. Bridge.

  Bridge said something but she couldn’t hear because of her music. She pulled out her earphones. “Sorry?”

  Bridge smiled. “Morning, Finn. How are you feeling?”

  Finn flicked her hair from her eyes nervously. She was glad she got all her emotions out last night, but it was still hard to face the fact that she’d cried on a woman’s shoulder. She couldn’t imagine Quade doing that.

  “Good. I’m feeling good.”

  “Did you save any of your cards?” Bridge asked.

  Finn shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Finn. I know what they meant to you.”

  “I’m sorry I broke down like that,” Finn said.

  “Oh, tosh.” Bridge sat down beside her. “Everyone needs a good cry sometimes.” Bridge leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, I shan’t tell a soul. You won’t lose butch points.”

  The feeling of Bridge’s breath on her ear sent all sorts of crazy sensations all over her body. Finn tried not to show how much she was affected and joked, “Yes, thanks, because you know I’m saving them, and building up from boy to card-carrying butch, like Quade.”

  Bridge laughed. “But I do so like you as a boy, Magician.”

  God. I want her so much. Finn stared, transfixed, as Bridge crossed her legs.

  Bridge rested her hand on her knee and continued, “I appreciated you listening to me about Ellen. I seldom get to talk about her.”

  Finn took a chance and placed her hand over Bridge’s. Bridge tensed for a second and then clasped Finn’s fingers. It was the closest she had gotten to touching those gorgeous legs and she was forcing herself to remember every feeling, every thought.

  She took full advantage of her position, to lightly caress Bridge’s knee. She heard Bridge gasp, and then shift in her seat, but she didn’t stop her.

  * * *

  Bridget cleared her throat. How had she arrived in this position, from simply saying hello?

  The sensations her body was experiencing were wrong, so wrong inside her own churchyard, but the setting only made her feel more turned on. An image of herself leaning against her office desk, with Finn on her knees between her legs, flas
hed across her mind.

  She jumped up quickly and said, “I better get on. Remember, a bet is a bet. Set-up for Witch’s Night starts at seven. We’ve only got a few weeks.”

  Finn stood and took a step too close. “I’ll be there, Vicar. I won’t see you this afternoon, because I said I’d go and give Quade a hand. Keep myself busy, you know?”

  “Sounds like a good idea. I have tea and gossip with the Axedale ladies this afternoon anyway.”

  “Tea and gossip?”

  “Well, it’s a women’s fellowship meeting that we have every week at the church. We are meant to talk and pray and…it usually descends into tea and gossip, but it’s more fun that way. I’m sure you’ll be the topic of some of the gossip.” Bridge smiled.

  “Have fun,” Finn said. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

  Bridge looked at her painting and said, “It’s really coming on, Finn. You have talent.”

  “Nah, it’s just for fun, but I’m glad you like it.”

  “I better start my day then.” Bridge leaned in to Finn and ran her nails across the back of Finn’s hand, and whispered, “Next time, don’t take without asking, boy.”

  Then she turned on her heel and walked towards her office. She had to force herself not to look back or else she and Finn would probably be kissing on the bench.

  She made it to the safety of her office and leaned back against the door to catch her breath. God give me the strength.

  Finn made her feel things she couldn’t even process. Finn was cocky, arrogant, and that made the thought of her submitting to Bridge all the more delicious.

  Her old persona was creeping out from its restraints every time she was with Finn, and being near her was just going to get harder. What made her feelings for Finn worse was the fact that as cocky as Finn was, she was also vulnerable, and that made Bridge’s heart ache. All in all, Finnian Kane was a frightening challenge for someone who was trying to remain celibate.