Charming the Vicar

by Jenny Frame

  Bridge leaned forward and breathed in her ear, “Then you may. Fuck me like the good boy I know you are.”

  As soon as Finn was let off the leash she realized she wouldn’t be thrusting for long. Bridge had wound her up so much. Bridge met every thrust, and they moved faster and faster towards the orgasm that ended Finn’s torment.

  “Fuck, fuck, going to come,” Finn shouted.

  “Not till I tell you to, boy.” Bridge groaned. “Don’t you dare come till I’m ready.”

  Finn felt like her whole body was on fire. She didn’t think there was any way she could stop the inferno that was burning inside her. “Can’t, Mistress. Can’t.”

  Bridge’s movements got faster and faster until she dug her nails into Finn’s shoulder. “Come, come now.”

  At Bridge’s command, Finn’s body exploded. “Jesus, fuck.”

  Bridge flung her head back, ground her hips on Finn’s cock, and groaned. “Good boy, I knew you could be good.”

  Finn broke free from her restraints, and they clung together long after their orgasms had subsided. Holding each other like it could be their last time. Finn looked up into Bridge’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I made things more difficult. I promise I’ll follow any lead you set.”

  “I told you, it’s not your fault. I just need some time, to pray, to talk to God, and to make peace with what I feel. I know you don’t understand that—”

  Finn cupped Bridge’s cheek tenderly, and said, “I do. You’ve helped me understand. I talk to Carrie all the time. The first time we met you told me you would work on the atheist bit, and you have. I think you can safely assume I’m now agnostic.”

  Bridget laughed softly and kissed her brow. “Good boy. I’m training you well then.”

  “I think, considering our positions, I’d say yes,” Finn joked. “Seriously, take all the time you need. When you talk to God, remember one thing, Bridget Claremont, Mistress Black, I’m in love with you. I’ll keep my distance and let you have your space, but you are all I never knew I needed.” Bridget tensed up when she said that and tried to move. Finn caught her and kept her from moving. “What’s wrong with saying I love you?”

  “You know why. I don’t know if I can risk my whole life, my vocation—I’m frightened of hurting you.”

  Finn took Bridge’s palm and kissed it softly. “When I knew I had to get away from London, I had no idea where to go. So I decided to do something so against what I believed in, but something Carrie believed in. I got a map and Carrie’s dousing crystal and held it over the map. It led me to Axedale. It led me to you.”

  “You did?”

  Finn nodded. “Yes, and for an atheist-slash-agnostic to think there is some purpose in that, then I’m sure a woman of God should see that as a sign, don’t you think?”

  Bridget gasped. “A sign?”

  “A sign,” Finn repeated.

  Chapter Twenty

  Finn was true to her word. She did keep her distance from Bridge, all week in fact. Finn didn’t see their separation as a good sign, but she’d promised she would give Bridge space, so she did. It was still very hard. To fill the time she tried to help Quade and took Martha out in her wheelchair.

  This morning Finn accompanied Quade and the Axedale gamekeeper to check up on the deer herd that lived on estate land. It was different and interesting work. From there she and Quade headed to the pub for lunch. She waited at the table while Quade ordered the food.

  Finn took out her cards, the cards that Bridge gave her, and started to shuffle. Everything reminded Finn of Bridge. She’d never experienced the feeling of aching for someone physically before, but that’s what she felt for Bridge. She ached to touch her, to be allowed to touch her and hold her. How could she ever handle it if Bridge thought they shouldn’t pursue this?

  Quade came over with two pints of lager. “Here, get that down your neck.”

  “Cheers.” Finn lifted her glass to Quade and then took a drink. “Tastes good after working from six o’clock in the morning.”

  “You did well, Finn. Especially for someone who hasn’t done that type of work before.”

  Finn smiled and held up her hands and showed the blisters starting to form on her palms. “I know. I’ll be a rugged butch, as Bridge puts it, before I know it.”

  Quade smiled and took a drink. “Have you talked to her yet?”

  Finn sighed, and shook her head. “No, I said I would give her time, and I have. I haven’t gone to the church to paint or anything. After everything with her bishop, I’m not taking the chance of pushing her any more.”

  “Good idea.” Quade looked at her cards and said, “They look different from your other ones.”

  “Yeah.” Finn quite naturally started an elaborate shuffle and fanned them out in front of Quade. “Pick one, and look at it carefully. They belonged to Bridge’s grandpa. He got them from Houdini. She thought I would appreciate them.”

  Quade picked a card and held it close.

  Finn continued, “I couldn’t believe she would give me something so personal. It’s like she really understands me.”

  “She is one of the kindest women I know,” Quade said.

  Finn reshuffled the pack and said, “Pick another, and decide which card is going to be your first choice, then give me back the card that you don’t want, but remember what it was.”

  Finn took the card and put it back in the pack. “Okay, now give me your first choice, and remember it.”

  Quade gave her the card.

  Finn shuffled and fanned out the deck on the table. “Remember your card?”

  “Three of hearts,” Quade said.

  “Okay. Three of hearts, count to three when I say so, and your card will jump from the pack over to you, okay?”

  She nodded, and Finn held her hand over the cards, and said, “Go for it.”

  Quade counted, “One, two, three—”

  Finn smacked her hands together and Quade’s card, the three of hearts, fell by her pint glass.

  Quade laughed and clapped her hands together. Soon other people in the bar, who had gathered around without them noticing, started to clap.

  Finn wasn’t finished yet, and said, “What was your second choice?”

  “Five of clubs.”

  Finn pulled her palms apart and there was the card.

  Quade was astonished. “What? No way. How did you do that?”

  Finn tapped her nose. “Trade secret.”

  The other villagers gathered closer and patted her on the back. Mr. Peters said, “Show us one more before I have to get back to the post office.”

  Finn looked around at the expectant faces and didn’t feel panic or fear at performing. She felt excited, just as when she had shown the children. Maybe she didn’t have to feel guilty any more. Magic was part of her, and while she might have been wrong about rubbishing other people’s belief in God, that didn’t change the fundamental purpose of her act, which was to entertain and bring joy and wonder to people’s faces.

  After showing the bar patrons a few more tricks and eating lunch, Finn walked Quade to her Land Rover. “So, do you think I should go and talk to Bridge?” Finn asked.

  Quade thought for a few seconds and said, “Maybe you need to work on yourself first.”

  Finn nodded.

  Quade added, “Well, maybe you need to show her that you’re not going anywhere, that you’ll be here for the foreseeable future. Axedale is everything to Bridge, but she maybe thinks you’ll eventually be tempted back to the bright lights of London. That maybe it’s not worth gambling her career on someone who might leave. Can you make a life in our little village?”

  “You’re right,” Finn said. “I need to think and face my future. I’ll work on that.”

  Quade unlocked the truck and said, “I enjoyed that, Finn. I always wanted to see some of your magic, but Bridge said you didn’t like to perform any more.”

  Finn leaned against the side of the truck. “I didn’t mean to—it just happened. Magic wa
s a part of myself I didn’t want to know any more.”

  Quade smacked her on the shoulder. “It’s hard to hide such an important part of your life, Finn. Sometimes you have to face what’s inside of you.”

  That struck a chord with Finn. She was trying to get Bridge to face and accept another side of herself, and she wasn’t doing the same. I need to show her we can have a future, and live being true to ourselves.

  “Quade? Do you know where Mr. Butterstone lives?”

  * * *

  The next day Bridge was out walking her usual evening route, trying to sort out her thoughts and come up with some sermon ideas for this week’s sermon. It was very difficult to put her all into writing a sermon for a church organization that was making her feel guilty about who she was falling in love with, but it had to be done.

  She stopped and sat on the bench overlooking the estate where she and Finn had their first skirmish. Bridge chuckled to herself thinking of how angry, arrogant, and dismissive Finn was then, but mostly she recalled how damaged she was. That wasn’t Finn any more, but if Bridge let go of what they had together, would she return to that state of mind?

  No. Bridge was overestimating her importance in Finn’s life. She could navigate life without Bridge. But could Bridge navigate life without Finn? She had missed her so much this week that it was hard not to give in and visit her. She missed talking to her, missed laughing with her, and missed soothing and taking care of her. It felt so natural to be with Finn, so natural and easy to love her, and yet the Church she loved, or some parts of the Church she loved, were telling her it was unnatural.

  After staring at her blank notepad for ten minutes, all she had managed to write down for her sermon notes was the word love. Love should be a wonderful, happy, hopeful word, but at the moment her two loves, Finn and the Church, were pulling her in opposite directions.

  “I give up.” Bridge put her notebook back in her handbag.

  “Giving up? That doesn’t sound like a Claremont, Bridge.”

  Bridge turned her head and was full of joy to see Harry standing there. She jumped up and hugged her tightly. “Harry! How…when?”

  “The dig was a wash, so we did all the tourist things and Annie and Riley were anxious to get back home. Plus, I was concerned about you, after your voicemail, so we caught a flight this morning.”

  Bridge clung to her like a limpet. She could already feel the relief of having her oldest friend by her side spreading through her heart and soul, and the joy showed itself in the tears that sprang from her eyes.

  Harry pulled back and said to Bridge, “What’s wrong?”

  Bridget took a tissue from her pocket and dried her eyes. “Ignore me. I’ve become an overemotional fool since you left Axedale. How did you find me?”

  They sat down on the bench together. “Your housekeeper thought you might be up here.”

  “Where’s Annie and Riley?”

  “Annie is getting unpacked and I was apparently getting in the way. Riley went to visit Willow. She missed that pony a great deal.”

  Bridge smiled. “Quade and I took good care of her.”

  “I’m quite sure. I bumped into Quade up at Axedale,” Harry said.

  Bridge sighed. “I suppose she told you about my troubles then.”

  “Not much. You know she’s not one for gossip and chit-chat, but she did say you could use someone to talk to.”

  “And here you are.”

  “And here I am. Tell me what’s been happening. I understand your atheist magician friend has made quite the impression on Martha. I popped in to see her on my way.”

  “Yes. Martha is quite taken with her,” Bridge said.

  Harry sat back and crossed her legs. “And you, Vicar?”

  Bridge nodded. “I think I’m in love with her.”

  Harry did a double take. “Love? Bloody hell. I understood you liked her but…in love? I didn’t think she’d be your type.”

  Bridget laughed ironically. “Oh yes, I’ve tried to tell myself she’s not my type since the first time I looked into her beautiful, sad, and confused eyes, but alas, she is exactly my type. She fits with me, every part of me, not just the vicar but also—”

  Harry smiled. “Mistress Black.”

  “Yes, I’ve been trying to hide that side of me for so long, but Finn just brings her out of me, whether I like it or not.”

  “So what’s the problem? If you both like each other, then what is to stop you being with her?”

  Bridget said, “I could write you a list, but it would take too long. The long and short of it is that if I pursue this I may lose my church, my job, and my home here in Axedale. You know what a hardliner Bishop Sprat is. He’s had some phone calls from concerned parishioners about the propriety of my relationship with Finn.”

  “Let me guess, Archie Winchester, by any chance?” Harry said.

  “Probably.”

  “Bloody fool. I don’t see the problem. You can be in a relationship with the same sex—”

  “But I’d have to remain celibate. I can’t, in good conscience, lie to my bishop, and to be in a celibate relationship…I just couldn’t ask that of Finn or myself. I just couldn’t. We’re too”—Bridge searched for a term to describe them—“compatible.”

  Harry laughed. “More like you can’t keep your hands, or your whip, off her.”

  “Maybe. I’ve prayed and tried to understand what God wants me to do. All I feel is this is right, God is love and wants me to love, but maybe that’s my wants that I’m listening to.”

  Harry got up from the bench and started to pace in front of her. “You should have prayed to Bacchus—he’d have given you a much clearer answer, and probably sent you a new whip.”

  “Oh, shush about your bloody Roman gods.”

  Harry shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re in turmoil about this. Bridget Claremont doesn’t run from a fight. You’ve been campaigning for gay rights in the Church for years, and this is the chance for you to lead and show the Church the way. Your Christian group is full of couples—in fact I’ve met Kate and her partner at one of your fundraisers, and there’s no way in hell they are celibate.”

  Why did this seem such an easy choice to everyone else? Why couldn’t they see how difficult it was?

  “What does your aunt Gertie say?” Harry added.

  “Follow my heart and my conscience.”

  Harry knelt in front of her and took Bridge’s hand. “Then do it. Remember what you said to me when I was falling in love with Annie? The only Bible verse that I will remember till the day I die. 1 Corinthians 13, Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Faith, hope, and love are all that matters. You taught me that.”

  “I never thought I’d have you quote scripture at me, Harry,” Bridge said with emotion in her voice.

  “Well, I’d like you to be happy, like you helped me to be.”

  “Harry, the Church is the only thing that has kept me afloat. It saved me from myself. If I were to lose it—”

  “You won’t lose it. You have too many important friends for even Sprat to get rid of you. Besides, this is my village, my church, and I choose you as my vicar,” Harry said angrily.

  “You can’t control the Church of England, Harry, and do you really think a celebrity magician is going to stay in a little village like this forever?”

  Harry stood and crossed her arms. “Maybe you need to talk to her about this. I don’t even know the woman, although she will be getting a visit from me in the future.”

  “Oh, Harry, protecting my honour? I don’t think I have any left to protect,” Bridge joked.

  “I do know one thing. Annie and Riley are going down to the church hall tonight to sign up for the big winter show. Riley’s friend, Sophie, texted her the exciting news as soon as we got back.”

  “What exciting news?” Bridge asked.

  “The famous Finnian Kane is directing the show. She told Mr. Butterstone yesterday. Doesn’t sou
nd like your magician is in a hurry to leave.”

  * * *

  Finn stood in the middle of the church hall with her clipboard, surrounded with what looked and sounded like the whole village. This was more chaotic than rehearsals for her arena tour. She was astonished when she arrived at the church to find the villagers lined up out of the door to sign up for the show.

  After she’d spoken to a delighted Mr. Butterstone yesterday, he put posters up in the pub and on the church noticeboard. She had no idea the response would be this big. By making her presence so public, it also made her realize it wouldn’t be long before the press found her here. She was surprised she had been given this time as it was. If they found her now, what was the worst that could happen? She was happy here in Axedale and had begun to make her peace with her sister’s death, and had met someone who gave her the strength to move on with her life.

  If they come, they come.

  “Finn?” Mrs. Peters interrupted her from her thoughts.

  “Sorry, I was miles away. We better get started.”

  Finn tried to catch everyone’s attention with her voice, and when that didn’t work she brought her fingers to her lips and whistled loudly.

  Everyone in the hall stopped and turned to look. “Listen up, everyone. Thank you all for coming tonight. We’ll try and get through this first night as quickly and as painlessly as possible. The theme for this year’s show is Winter Wonderland.”

  Everyone clapped and chattered excitedly. Finn was glad they were so impressed. That was all she had so far—she still had to write the show.

  “There are tables set up and manned by Mrs. Peters and the church committee in each corner of the room. So everyone who wants to be considered for dancing, follow Mrs. Peters, all the singers, head over to Mrs. McCrae, if you’d like to be involved with some magic, then sign up with Mr. Butterstone, and if you’re interested in costumes, props, and backstage work, then Beverly will take your names.”

  Finn leaned over and whispered to Mrs. Peters, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”