9781618857613SacredWaterMichaels

by Lydia Michaels

  Colin’s gaze tore from Samantha’s beautiful face as he stared at his idiot brother. Did he not realize that in the whole week she’d been here, not once had she gone near the water? It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she had some deep-seated fear of water.

  He turned back to Sam and all remnants of her earlier blush washed away. Her cheeks looked bloodless and the narrow column of her throat worked as she repetitively swallowed.

  Sam stepped out of Braydon’s reach and his brother’s fingers released her hair. “A fire sounds nice. Will everyone be there?”

  “They should. You’re going, right, Colin?”

  Colin remembered the last time he’d been at the lake with Samantha. He wondered if somehow her panic attack had to do with the fact that they were at the lake. Why had he not considered that? Although he planned on avoiding anything to do with Samantha, he worried that she may need him in case she had another episode. Lord knew Braydon wasn’t the best at detecting her discomfort.

  “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  She looked at him sharply, clearly not expecting his attendance.

  “So you wanna go with me or the women today, babe?”

  Colin gritted his teeth at his brother’s term of endearment. She’d obviously not spoken to him about their relationship yet. He was angry that in three days and nights she hadn’t taken an opportunity to clear the air with Braydon, but then again, her breaking up with his brother would change nothing about Colin’s situation.

  “I’ll go with you. I just need to pull up my hair and grab my Chap Stick.”

  Before she turned back into the room Colin caught a look at her mouth. Her lips were red as if she had been biting them. God he wanted to kiss and soothe those soft lips.

  “I got to go,” he practically barked and turned toward the stairs.

  “Hey, you all right, bro?”

  “Fine,” he lied without looking back.

  * * * *

  Colin arrived at the lake shortly after suppertime. He dined at the rectory and spent most of the day painting the parish’s school hall. He figured he needed something to eat up his free time, so he volunteered for the project that morning and was elbow deep in eggshell paint by noon.

  As he parked his Jeep he gripped the wheel and took a calming breath. He could do this. When he felt centered and in control he left the Jeep and headed toward the lake and into the limpid twilight. As he crested the bend of evergreens he could hear his family’s rowdy laughter. Just another bonfire like they had been having for the past twenty-nine years of his life. But his feeling of control was short lived.

  Before his relatives even came into view he heard her. She was laughing at something with undisguised amusement. Her voice lilting from octave to octave like a bird song so pure it could be called a lullaby.

  When he spotted her he regretted his presence immediately. This evening was guaranteed to torture him and test him in ways he’d never been tested.

  She was with Kelly. Did all of his brothers have to touch her? Kelly had his arm around her shoulders and was speaking close to her ear as she looked forward as if imagining whatever he was describing and she smiled. She continued to laugh as his vagabond brother went on with an anecdote about God knew what.

  She literally took his breath away. Her faded jeans showed off her long tapered legs. He loved the way she could look stunning in casual clothes. The temperature was dropping as darkness approached and she wore a dark blue Villanova hooded sweatshirt. Her feet were bare and the only thought Colin could process was I wonder what color her toenails are painted? He would bet either clear or a shell pink that was as close as one could get to clear.

  He was so consumed with imagining her dainty feet he barely heard Luke and Tristan approach.

  “I told you I would, babe. I’ll head to town tomorrow and pick it up and get it done this week.”

  “Thanks. I’d do it myself, but I gotta get—”

  The sound of footsteps halting had him shaking his head and peeling his eyes away from her.

  “Oh hey, Colin. I didn’t see you standing there. What are you doing?”

  Colin supposed he did look a bit odd standing in the approaching dark watching the others, but for some reason Luke’s question struck him as overly anxious. “I was just heading down there. Hey, Tristan. How ya’ doing?”

  “Good, man. You?”

  Tristan was a fairly new arrival to their circle. He moved up here after being their cousin’s roommate in college. Tristan and his brother Luke had hit it off immediately and Colin was glad his brother had such a friend to bring him out of whatever dark place he had been heading toward.

  “Good.”

  Luke looked as though he wanted to ask something.

  “What’s up, Luke? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

  His brother gave an uncharacteristically fake laugh. Nervous was something Luke rarely was. Something had spooked him though.

  “Uh, nothing. I’m gonna head down to say hi to the others. I’ll catch you later, Tristan. Colin.”

  Colin looked at Tristan who appeared fed up. What just happened? “Is he all right?”

  Tristan shook his head, but continued to watch Luke go. “Yeah, he’s just…Luke.”

  Colin shrugged and headed toward the others.

  It proved fairly easy to avoid Samantha with a group the size of the McCulloughs, but his traitorous mind continuously sought her out against all odds. By eleven, he sat brooding in a chair, nursing a beer that was piss warm, and watching her on the other end of the fire wrapped under a blanket with his brother Braydon. He ignored the sound of someone plopping down in the chair beside him.

  “Hey, bro. What’s got you so down?”

  He looked over at Kelly and knew his demeanor was the farthest thing from welcoming, but as always, Kelly was undeterred. He took a sip of his tepid beer.

  Kelly gave a long ominous whistle. “Wow. Don’t usually see you in this mood. What happened?”

  Colin ignored him as a fire raged in his chest when Braydon tried to pop a hot puffed marshmallow in Samantha’s mouth. She dodged his finger and took the morsel into her hands to eat.

  “Colin?” The serious note in Kelly’s voice had him turning to face him. “Seriously, you okay?”

  “I don’t know, Kelly. I don’t know what I am.”

  Kelly eyed him with all seriousness. “What happened?”

  He gave a deprecating laugh and shook his head. “I can’t talk about it.”

  “You sure? You could tell me anything, Colin, and I’d never betray your trust or judge you. I love you, man.”

  “Thanks. I love you, too. But this is something I need to figure out for myself.”

  Kelly nodded solemnly. “Okay, but the offer still stands. You know, no one expects you to get it right all the time. You may be taking your vows, but you aren’t JC. No one’s perfect. It’s human to be unsure.”

  “Thanks.”

  About an hour later Colin had taken all he could take. Samantha dozed off, looking all too comfortable with her head resting on Braydon’s shoulder. He stood and went to say goodnight to his parents and the rest of them. He debated not saying goodbye to Braydon, but knew that was wrong. Steeling himself, he walked over to him and Sammy.

  “You takin’ off, Col?”

  “Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  When Braydon reached up to shake his hand he jarred Samantha and woke her up. She sat up, looking groggy and stiff and frowned. As she turned her head she winced.

  “I’ll see you, man,” Bray said.

  “Are you leaving?” Samantha rasped in a drowsy voice that seemed to go right to his heart and other inappropriate places. Whoa. He needed to stop. His thoughts were getting worse by the day. By the hour.

  “Yeah. I’ve had enough.”

  She stretched. “I think I’ve had enough too.”

  Braydon pouted. “Really? The nights just getting started.”

  “I can give you a ride
back if you want,” Colin suggested, sounding all too eager to his own ears. Samantha eyed him skeptically. “That way Braydon can stay as long as he wants.”

  She looked at Braydon. “Do you care?”

  “Nah, do what you want, babe. I’ll be fine. Go home and get some rest.”

  “Okay.”

  Samantha stood to gather her belongings. Colin stepped away so as not to hover or seem anxious. He waited by the trail back where the cars were parked and watched her.

  Her ponytail had come partially loose and hung cockeyed. She still looked half-asleep. Rather than put on her sneakers, she carried them in her hand along with the bunched up fleece blanket she’d been resting under.

  He was suddenly very frightened about what he’d just gotten himself into.

  Chapter Ten

  Colin drove back to the house with more precision than he used when taking his driver's test as a sixteen year old boy. His knuckles gripped the wheel so tight they were bloodless. Samantha sat quietly beside him and not once did his eyes leave the road.

  As he pulled into the empty driveway he looked up to the dark house and his heart clamored so fast and hard within his chest he feared he might actually pass out. He shut the car off and neither of them moved or said a word.

  After looking out the windshield for another several minutes he finally said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around the past couple of days.”

  He glanced at her and she looked as though she had been watching him all along. Her expression was blank and her eyes shone in the moonlight. “I figured it was for the best.”

  She didn’t nod or reply. They sat, separated by the console, and simply stared at one another in silence. Like horses lined at the gate propelled into motion by a shot, they each suddenly lunged at each other, mouths slanting over mouths, teeth clacking together, hands squeezing flesh and pulling hair. He wanted to inhale her.

  Her tongue passed his lips the same time his passed hers. She was breathing roughly, but so was he. It was as if they were in a race and the finish line was the difference between life and death. He squeezed her shoulders through her sweatshirt, ran his fingers through her hair dislodging her ponytail completely. She moaned into his mouth and pulled her body up so that she was kneeling in the passenger seat.

  Fingers forked through his hair sending chills over every square inch of his chest. Dear God, he was so aroused he feared he would come just from kissing her. He needed to get control of himself. He fought for control of the kiss but she seemed determined not to relinquish it. He slowed his tongue's onslaught of her mouth and slid his palms down the side of her neck, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on either side of her jaw.

  “Samantha,” he breathed as he slowed their kiss.

  As their need faded from a volatile eruption of desire to smoldering embers she pulled her mouth away and pressed her forehead to his. Her eyes were squeezed together so tight she looked to be in pain. Colin shut his eyes as well, simply holding her for another moment before he had to let her go again.

  When he finally pulled away he noticed the glass of the windshield was humid and starting to fog.

  “We’d better go inside.”

  Her eyes opened and she looked at him questioningly.

  He should have worded that differently. “Samantha, I can’t.”

  She nodded solemnly and he knew if he wanted her in that moment she’d be his. “I’m sorry.”

  He turned and exited the car. By the time he reached the passenger side, she darted towards the house. He missed his chance to kiss her one last time.

  The loss of that one last kiss was crushing. Screams of frustration stuck in his throat. For the first time since childhood, he wanted to cry.. He needed that kiss and he’d never have it.

  As she climbed the front steps in her bare feet he wondered if the pain of not having her would ever go away. If for the rest of his life he would always long for that last kiss, that extra caress, that final look back. She wouldn’t look at him now.

  She waited by the door for him, head hung, gaze averted with a curtain of hair preventing him from reading her expression. It wasn’t fair for him to keep doing this to her. He was killing himself, but the idea of hurting her made his actions a thousand times worse.

  He opened the door and flipped on the hall light. Slowly, she marched up the steps and he followed. Not a word was spoken. The air was thick with longing and regret. Enough. It had to be enough.

  Her heart was something sacred that should not be abused. There was no excuse for hurting her anymore. It was obvious what this was doing to her—to them. No matter how much pleasure they drew from one another, there would always be a goodbye. And soon that goodbye would be final.

  He stood at his bedroom door and she stood at his brother’s.

  “Goodnight, Samantha.”

  “Goodnight, Colin.”

  He thought he heard tears in her voice, but by the time he looked back at her she was already in the room with the door closed. He sighed and went into his own room and shut the door behind him.

  Tossing off his shirt perfumed by the smoky scent of campfire he forked his fingers through his hair and pressed his palms into his desk. Leaning over the surface, he played back the last half an hour in his mind and berated himself.

  He tried to think back to his theology courses for the slightest anchor that would remind him of who he was. He fought to recall the way he felt the day he received his letter of acceptance into the Affiliation Program, but could not recreate the feeling of elation.

  His mind recalled the first day he met his good friend and mentor, Father Tucker, but the memory played flat. The pride and satisfaction he experienced while in Dublin working as a missionary was still very real, but any man could do community service. He was not to be any man, but a holy man, yet he could not grasp the feeling of sacredness.

  He allowed himself to become a profane example of all that he stood for and believed in. And the worst part was that he recognized his complete lack of concern for what was happening to him and didn’t know how to alter his perception, how to get back those old ideals.

  “Fuck!” He shoved the desk against the wall and stood.

  He paced for a few minutes and then decided that while he couldn’t correct all his faults at the moment he could at least calm his inner being and eradicate temptation with a cold shower. He went to the bathroom and opened the door and came up short when he saw Samantha, towel in hand, and face pink, with wet tracks of tears running down her cheeks.

  Shit.

  He suddenly thought of a verse from the Old Testament. Like a fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones; I grow weary of holding it in. It was the verse that helped him recognize his call to the church, only now it had taken on new meaning.

  She had become the fire burning in his heart, trapped by his bones and scalding every last bit of common sense and devotion to his cause from his mind. He was so, so weary of holding his desire for her in. He simply wanted to surrender and let it all out. To be freed, once and for all, of this agony.

  She met his gaze and swallowed as if about to say something, but then came up short.

  God, the pain was clear on her face.

  He had done that to her and he was a bloody selfish prick for playing with her emotions. She shook her head and looked down. Another tear glided past her spiked lashes until it disappeared beneath her jaw and diluted to nothing upon her slender neck. Those tears should not be wasted.

  Watching them fall was as sacrilegious as watching one dump holy water. Both, sacred waters wasted.

  As they stood, facing off in silence, her arm dropped as if too weak to hold itself up anymore. The folded towel unraveled and touched the floor. Her fingers loosened and the cloth feathered out of her palm and to the ground beside her feet. And that was the moment he truly became undone.

  Perhaps it was witnessing her complete surrender to sadness. Or perhaps it was that one lone tear. He would never know for certain, but he wa
s pretty sure he realized he loved her the moment he spotted the polish upon her toes, pale pink, almost clear, like the inner soft side of a seashell.

  He took two steady steps toward her and ignored her surprised gasp as he scooped her into his arms and carried her straight to her bed, hesitating before lying her down. The room was too much his brother’s. There was simply too many signs of Braydon there for him to face at the moment.

  He turned and carried her back into his room and shut the bathroom door with the heel of his foot. Much better. He looked around, not quite sure if he should lay her on the bed or let her stand. Unsure of himself he looked down at her face and saw she was leaving all decisions up to him.

  Right.The bed then. No, the floor. The floor is safer.

  She must have realized his indecision because he heard her giggle and looked down and saw poorly disguised amusement dancing in her eyes. He would take her laughing at his expense any day before tears.

  Feeling foolish, he finally admitted, “I don’t really know what to do here.”

  She laughed. “Why don’t we talk?”

  “Okay. Where?”

  She looked around. Other than his desk chair there really wasn’t anywhere else to sit. “The bed?”

  It seemed so final to go to the bed. They could sit there and talk. They’d just have to keep things within their control.

  He quickly played through a list of what if’s and the pros and cons of the bed versus his lack of other options until finally, completely disgusted with himself, he mentally called himself a pussy—which oddly made him feel more like a man and less like a priest—and sat her on the bed.

  He pulled the desk chair over and sat across from her. Now what?

  After a moment she made an adorable face that he interpreted as her mentally saying, well, this is awkward.

  They both laughed uncomfortably. Someone needed to say something, so he figured he might as well be the one to break the ice.

  “I’m sorry.”

  All amusement left her face and was replaced with fear. “Please stop apologizing,” she whispered.