Until I Saw Your Smile

by J. J. Murray

  “Purgatory doesn’t exist at all, Matthew,” Mary said. “There’s no description of it in the Bible. There’s only heaven or hell. Jesus said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No man can get to the Father but by me.’ Unless you have Jesus in your heart, you are going to hell.”

  I want to ask her to lighten up, to preach to someone else. Isn’t this a date? She asked me out to try to convert me? “I talk to God all the time.” Sometimes in small bathrooms at house parties. “I often wonder what Jesus would do in some of the situations I’ve been in.”

  “That’s a start, Matthew,” Mary said, “but have you had sinful thoughts this week?”

  “Well . . .” This is beginning to feel like confession. I wish all priests were this sexy. “I had the opportunity to do some sinning the last couple of weeks, but I didn’t.”

  “But you were in sinful situations,” Mary said.

  Some more than others. “Yes.”

  “With women?” Mary asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Matthew, putting yourself in those sinful situations is sin, too,” Mary said. “You have to flee lust or it will catch you.”

  “I did flee.” I put on the brakes with Monique, didn’t I? My brakes were slipping with Jade. Luckily, Jade’s ex cracked that door. “But didn’t Jesus hang out with sinners?”

  “Well, yes, He did,” Mary said, “but He was perfect and without sin, and He came to save sinners, so He had to be around them to save them, right?”

  I have to change the direction of this conversation. “Is that why you asked me out, Mary? To hang out with a sinner?”

  Mary looked away. “No.”

  Time to press her buttons. “I’ve had some sinful thoughts about you since Sunday,” Matthew said.

  Mary looked up. “You have?”

  “You are very beautiful, Mary.” He smiled. “In fact, you are very sexy.”

  Mary pushed her chair back from the desk. “And we are in the house of God, Matthew.”

  “God made you,” Matthew said. “I’m just admiring His creation. Is it wrong to admire God’s beautiful creation?”

  Mary seemed to catch her breath. “Well, no, of course not, but—”

  “You have a beautiful body,” Matthew interrupted, “no matter how tattooed or pierced or how much of you is leaking out of that dress for me to look at right now.”

  “I, I’m not . . .” She pulled her dress around her legs, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m not interested in that kind of thing anymore.”

  “Why not?” Matthew asked.

  “I am a changed woman,” Mary said.

  “That doesn’t change how sexy or beautiful you are,” Matthew said. “You are gorgeous.”

  Mary’s lower lip quivered. “Thank you, but the old me is gone, Matthew. I don’t even think about sex anymore.”

  “Really?” Matthew asked.

  “Really,” Mary said.

  Is that even possible? “You don’t have any urges or needs?”

  “I fight those urges,” Mary said. “Sex is wrong unless it happens during the holy bonds of marriage.”

  Matthew blinked. “You believe sex is wrong.”

  “Sex before marriage is wrong, yes,” Mary said. “Look at all the children born out of wedlock. Look at all the problems of single-parent homes. Look at all the diseases out there.”

  She has some valid points, but... “Wasn’t Mary pregnant before she and Joseph were officially married?”

  “What?” Mary gasped.

  I have just stepped on her holy toes. “I know the Bible doesn’t use the word ‘sex,’ but doesn’t the Bible say the Holy Spirit came unto Mary and she conceived?”

  Mary’s mouth opened and closed several times. “Mary had . . . relations with the Holy Spirit one night. It was part of God’s perfect plan. It was a miracle.”

  “As one-night stands go, that one was a doozy,” Matthew said. “Miracle or not, it changed world history.”

  “Are you calling the Immaculate Conception a one-night stand?” Mary asked.

  Did I do that? I didn’t mean to. “I thought you weren’t Catholic anymore.”

  “I’m not.” She turned away. “Really. A one-night stand.”

  “It is one way of looking at it, isn’t it?” Matthew said. “Young girl, no husband, suddenly pregnant.”

  “I will . . . I will pray for you, Matthew,” Mary said softly.

  She gave up too easily. I was just getting interested. “Why?”

  She turned to face him. “So that you will see the errors of your ways and get saved.”

  “Does this mean that a second date with you is out of the question ?” Matthew asked.

  Mary frowned. “This wasn’t a date.”

  “Didn’t you ask me out to eat?” Matthew asked.

  “Well, yes,” Mary said, “but we were going to go to prayer meeting for the rest of the evening.”

  Hence the need for coffee. From this moment on, I will listen to counter girls urging me to get two cups of strong coffee to go. “We were? We’re not going anymore?”

  “I don’t think your mind is in the right place to attend an all-night prayer meeting, Matthew.” She folded her hands in front of her. “My ultimate goal was to ask you to attend church here regularly.”

  “By sneakily asking me to a dinner that I paid for,” Matthew said.

  Mary nodded. “But my motives are pure. I saw you, and I knew your soul was in trouble, so I had to act.”

  “How’d you know my soul was in trouble?” Matthew asked. “We went over some legal forms for a couple hours.”

  Mary sighed. “It was the way you were looking at me, Matthew.” She glanced up. “Like you are now.” She looked down. “With lust in your heart.”

  “I’m giving you all my attention, Mary,” Matthew said. “I’m trying to be courteous. It’s not lust, Mary.” Now, anyway. “But if it were, I’d want you to take it as a compliment. You’re a feast for the eyes. You can’t hide the beauty God gave you.” Did I just say “beauty” or “booty”?

  Mary blinked and looked at her hands. “Matthew, please.”

  Oops. I said “booty.”

  “Lust is wrong, Matthew,” Mary said. “It leads to a multitude of other sins.”

  And expenses. “I will try to tone down my lust, but it’s going to be difficult.”

  “You have to fight it, Matthew,” Mary said.

  And I’m losing. This room is far too small. “You know, Mary, right now there’s confusion in my heart. Why, if you’re not interested in sex anymore, do you dress so provocatively?”

  “I don’t dress—”

  “I can see every curve and bump on your body,” Matthew interrupted. If she had freckles, I’d be able to count them. “You have very nice curves. And the colors you wear scream, ‘Look at me! I’m hot! I sizzle the pavement when I walk!’ ”

  Mary started to breathe deeply. “I don’t . . . sizzle the pavement.”

  “You do,” Matthew said. “I can’t help staring at you.”

  “Staring is rude,” Mary said softly.

  Most of the time. Not when you’re on a date. “Didn’t you dress that way so that I would stare?”

  “No.”

  She has to be lying. “You give people a great deal to stare at. God made you for me and other men to stare at. You have beauty that bursts. In that dress, you are a sunburst.”

  “As I said, I’m not that way anymore, so let’s not—”

  “You’re not beautiful?” Matthew interrupted.

  Mary swallowed. “I’m not . . . worldly.”

  “Even in your dreams?” Matthew asked.

  “I don’t remember my dreams,” Mary said.

  So sad. “Come on, Mary. You’re what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine ?”

  “I’m thirty-seven.” She nodded. “I’ll be thirty-eight next month.”

  Wow. She looks much younger than thirty-seven. “Really. I never would have guessed it.”

  “Thank
you.” She looked up.

  She looks so vulnerable, sitting there fidgeting and fighting her hands. “Mary, I like you. While I don’t agree with you all the time, I like spending time with you. I’m even enjoying this conversation. If I asked you out to, say, a movie sometime, would you go? Or would you be afraid I’d be lusting after you the entire time?”

  “I don’t go to movies anymore, and I wouldn’t go anywhere with you until I’m convinced you’re saved,” Mary said. “I cannot be unequally yoked with an unbeliever.”

  Yoked? That’s a little severe, isn’t it? “I’m not talking about yoking with you.” Is yoking legal in New York? “I’m talking about another date, just you and me, out somewhere and away from here, where we can talk and get to know each other better.”

  “I . . . I can’t, Matthew,” she said, turning away. “I will . . . I will pray for you.”

  She’s weakening. “But Mary, how will you convert me if I’m not around for you to convert?”

  “You can come to services,” she said to the wall.

  “I’d rather have one-on-one conversations with you, Mary,” Matthew said. “Just the two of us. Even if only on the phone. What nights don’t you go to church?”

  “Mondays,” Mary said. “Pastor needs a day to rest.”

  “Okay, how about we go somewhere next Monday?” Matthew asked.

  Mary sighed heavily, turning to face him. “You haven’t been listening to me. We can’t go anywhere together until you’re saved.”

  Matthew cleared the pie plates to the side and leaned on the desk. “I hear what you’re saying, Mary, but your body keeps contradicting what you’re saying. You say ‘no,’ but your body is saying ‘yes.’ And your body is definitely talking louder than your voice is. Even now.”

  “Please go,” Mary whispered.

  Not yet. Matthew moved around the desk and took her left hand in his right. “I’m happy you’re a changed woman, Mary, I really am. I used to be an asshole.”

  Mary didn’t remove her hand from his. “Matthew, we’re in a church,” she whispered.

  “Sorry, God.” He squeezed her hand. “Mary, I used to sue people into bankruptcy for a living, and I was good at it. Ruining other people’s lives made me happy. One day, I hated what I had become, so I gave all that up to work for people who really needed my help. I did that for three rewarding years at Brooklyn Legal until I burned out from all the misery and went out on my own. I changed the way I did things and the way I lived, but I really didn’t change the real me.” He lifted her chin with his left hand. “I like you, Mary. I’d like to get to know you better. You are so beautiful it hurts me.”

  “It . . . does?”

  “Yes.”

  Mary pulled her hand away and leaned back in her chair. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Held your hand or told you what’s been going through my head?”

  “Both.” She folded her hands together.

  Matthew stood behind his chair. “So I shouldn’t show you affection or tell you the truth?”

  Mary pushed her chair into the desk, resting her arms in front of her. “I’m, I’m already spoken for, Matthew.”

  The Paterson girl said that Jesus was her boyfriend until she was married. I had countered that then she’d be cheating on her boyfriend with her husband. It didn’t go too well after that.

  “I know, I know,” Matthew said. “You have Jesus in your heart.”

  “No, I mean, yes, that’s true,” Mary said. “But Matthew, I’m spoken for by someone else.”

  And yet she asked me out? What’s going on? “You have a boyfriend?”

  Mary looked at her hands. “Well, no, not exactly.” She looked up briefly. “It’s hard to explain. I am interested, very interested, in someone else.”

  “Why’d you ask me to dinner then?” Matthew asked.

  “To save your soul,” Mary said.

  “You asked me out to eat so you could tell me I’m going to hell,” Matthew said. “How is that supposed to save me?”

  “By telling you where you’ll end up if you don’t change your ways,” Mary said. “But that was only part of the reason I asked you to dinner. I also needed . . . to speed things up.”

  I am so lost. “To speed what up?”

  “To make him jealous.” She looked toward the door.

  No . . . way. “To make who jealous?”

  Mary shook her head. “Pastor Jean.”

  This . . . this is really happening. Mary has a crush on her pastor. “You . . . and Pastor.”

  “It’s not like that,” Mary whispered.

  “How is it like?” Matthew asked.

  “Pastor is a wonderful man,” Mary said. “I owe him. He saved me from a life of sin.”

  “I thought Jesus did.”

  “Well, yes, of course Jesus did,” Mary said, “but Pastor made it clear to me so that I’d repent.”

  “So you and he are . . . seeing each other.”

  “Not yet.” She smiled. “Soon, I hope.”

  Not yet? “Does Pastor Jean even know how you feel about him?” “I think so,” Mary said. “I hope so.”

  How pitiful! “So you don’t know how he feels.”

  “He doesn’t seem to love his wife at all,” Mary said.

  His . . . wife. “Pastor Jean . . . is married. You don’t see a problem with that?”

  “No,” Mary said. “His wife is all about money. She grew up in New Rochelle. She grew up with money. Pastor says this church needs more money. I’m the treasurer, so I ought to know, right? There’s never enough money. Pastor wants to expand his ministry, and he has so many great ideas for the community, but her greed is getting in the way of his work.”

  “You mean God’s work, right?” Matthew asked.

  “Which are one and the same,” Mary said.

  Are they in every case? I doubt it. “Pastor Jean sounds like an amazing guy. Quite iconic.” Now, where is the exit? Oh, it’s right behind me.

  “Oh, he is, but his wife is slowing us down,” Mary said. “She’s taking nearly half of our offerings to use on their house in Beech-mont Woods.”

  And? “I’m sure the good pastor has a say in that, too. And anyway, isn’t she entitled?”

  “This church needs that money, not her,” Mary said. “I know I’d be a better holy helpmate to Pastor than she will ever be.”

  This is beyond twisted. “But you’re not even sure how he feels about you.”

  Mary sighed. “I’m not sure he even notices me.”

  The man would have to be blind. “I’m sure he does, Mary, but I’m also sure his wife has noticed you. You kind of stick out.”

  “I have been trying to . . . attract him,” Mary said. “But he hardly even looks at me.”

  If his wife is around, Pastor Jean can’t risk even looking sideways at you. “Did you ever think that maybe he values his marriage and that he truly loves his wife?”

  “She’s too worldly for him to love her,” Mary said. “You should see what she wears. She’s shameless. Her dresses are cut all the way up to her hips. Pastor couldn’t love his wife. He’s only staying with her for appearances.”

  Or Pastor knows that Mary has a crush on him and will never mess up the church’s finances as a result. It’s actually kind of shrewd of him. “So you thought you could use me to make Pastor Jean jealous.”

  “Right,” Mary said. “When you showed up last Sunday, I said to myself, ‘He’s a lawyer, he’s got money, the church needs money, money will make Pastor happy, get him to come back.’ ”

  Mary is extremely devious, too. Her past isn’t that far behind her. “You thought all that?”

  Mary nodded. “And I also said to myself, ‘He’s kind of cute, he likes to stare at me, he’s probably a heathen going to hell, so maybe I can get him saved and contributing lots of money.’ ”

  I’m not that kind of lawyer anymore. “You say . . . amazing things to yourself.”

  “Matthew, I’m thirty-seven,” Mar
y said. “If I don’t get a man soon, I’ll be like the other old, unmarried fossils in this church sitting in the back praising God and lusting after Pastor.”

  “That would be a tragedy, Mary.” It would be. She is exquisite.

  Organ music wafted into the room.

  “Does this mean prayer meeting is starting?” Matthew asked.

  “Yes.” She stood. “Are you going to stay? Please say you will.”

  No. “Let me get this straight. You want me to stay at an all-night prayer meeting so my mere presence will make a married pastor so jealous that he’ll divorce his allegedly greedy wife and marry you, knowing that it will do nothing but serious damage to his ministry.”

  “God has been known to work in mysterious ways, Matthew,” Mary said.

  Wow. And I thought I was lost. “Mary, even God does not work in adulterous ways. I will pray for you, Mary Primm.”

  Matthew raced to the 2 train platform as the sky darkened.

  Angela says she’s open until eight.

  Matthew checked the time on his phone and smiled.

  I’m going to make it.

  I have another story to tell her.

  Maybe I’ll get a few more pastries as payment.

  Chapter 9

  Angela’s place was nearly empty by the time Matthew arrived forty-five minutes before closing. A sexy, light-skinned woman sat in the first booth facing the window, two large, frothy mugs of coffee in front of her. She had long straight hair to her chest, high cheekbones, and blue-gray eyes. That woman could be a model.

  “It’s not a weekend, Matthew,” Angela called out. “You’re spoiling me.”

  Matthew strode up to the counter. “I needed a break.” He handed her a twenty. “This is for a tall cup of your house blend, two raspberry pastries if you have them, half a dozen of those chocolate chip cookies, and whatever I didn’t pay for on Saturday.”

  “Those pastries were my gift to you,” Angela said.

  “Then put my change in the tip jar,” Matthew said.

  “Gladly.” Angela made change and stuffed a few bills into the jar. “Will this generous tip cost me anything?”

  Ah. A little quid pro quo. “You must give me one good tip, one good piece of advice about women before the night is through.”