by Kathryn Shay
“Yeah, that was the point. I figured we wouldn’t see each other on the holiday so we’re having our own private celebration.”
He kissed her briefly. She had no idea how committed he was for the holiday. His entire congregation gathered for the meal. “How sweet.” He glanced around. “I like the open concept. One big room.”
“Yeah. Bedrooms are upstairs.” She flushed. He drew her close. He slid his hands to her sides, rubbed up and down. She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her. “We know what we’re going to do, why we’re here. Let’s enjoy every single second.”
Oh, man. Where had he learned to put people at ease like that. “You’re on. Want to sit on the couch facing the water and have a drink? The lake isn’t frozen yet, and it’s fun to see the waves pummel the shore.”
“Nature proving her dominance.”
They took seats on her sofa. Off-white was impractical for a cottage, but she followed her taste when she made the purchase.
“So, any fallout from the Boys’ Group discussion?”
He froze. “Excuse me?”
“You thought parents might call you. About the sex talk.”
Relieved she hadn’t discovered anything about the church, he blew out a heavy breath. “Yeah, some.” A board member had heard rumors and asked him. Carlton Matthews got wind of it and raised a ruckus, ending with This isn’t over. “I managed to escape in one piece.”
“What a delicate balance that is. Doing what’s best for kids when it angers their parents.”
Which was doubly complicated by his position. Suddenly, he knew this was the best time to tell her.
“Brady, what’s wrong? Your face paled.”
“We need to talk.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No. Sorry I questioned you on the kids. This is no-strings-attached, recreational sex we’re having and I won’t let you spoil it with reservations.”
“I don’t have any. I have to tell you something.”
“Well, come upstairs and do it because I’m going to my bedroom.”
Brady let her go and stayed downstairs for several minutes. He asked God for guidance, but none came. Who the hell was he kidding? God wasn’t here tonight. This wasn’t right.
It’s only wrong to keep your secret. The rest is fine with Me.
Holy hell!
Rising from the couch, he set his glass down and trudged up the stairs like a man going to the gallows. Lynne had come to Crystal Corners for a different life from the staid one she’d lived in Dannerville. His life was the definition of staid.
The door was open to the room at the end of the small hallway and he could see the water from here. He made himself walk there. Once inside, he found her standing by the bed. She wore a white satiny robe with green leaves on it.
She faced him. “Please, Brady. Don’t spoil this. I’ll only ask you one time more, because no is no for men, too.”
“I’m not saying no. I want this as much as you do.”
She unbelted her robe and eased it off her shoulders. “Then shut up Brady Jamison. Make love to me.”
* * *
“Here?” He kissed her neck. It tasted salty.
“It’s a good start.”
“How about here?”
“You’re going in the right direction.”
His tongue laved her abdomen. His lips kissed her hip bone.
“Hmm.”
Finally, when he went lower, she whispered, “Yeah. Right there.”
Later, she ordered, “Hold onto the headboard.”
“I…” He found himself on his back. And Lynne was giggling. He raised his arms to the headboard. Grasped the rungs. He loved this. “Have your way, woman.”
She did. He moaned, he squirmed and he almost bucked on the bed.
But when they came together, fully, on their sides facing each other, the joining was almost sacred. Brady’s heart wanted her, and the whole thing was tempered by reverence.
This was anything but recreational sex.
* * *
Brady went down to the kitchen to get more wine while she dressed. Alone, upstairs, still in bed, she thought about how gentle and tender their first coming together had been, as she expected.
When she noticed the little love bites on the inside of her thigh, she shivered. That had been the second time, where he was freer, wilder, and more adventurous. She loved both.
A buzz came from under the bed. She fished her hand around and a found a phone. She hadn’t brought hers up here. Lifting it up made the screen come on. Without thinking, she glanced down.
As she read the text, her breath hitched.
Hey, Reverend Jamison. Mark Hanson here. I had a question about changing the order of Sunday Service a bit, so my sermon will fit better. It’s not what you do, but is it all right by you?
The letters squirmed like maggots. She bit her lip.
We need to talk.
I have to tell you something.
Brady had been planning to tell her he was a minister!
* * *
In the kitchen, surrounded by the scent of cooking turkey, Brady turned toward the stairway holding two glasses of wine. Lynne appeared at the bottom. She’d put her robe back on and he wore only his boxers.
“Hey, I said I’d bring this upstairs.” He walked toward her and lowered his head. She drew away. Some of the wine spilled onto his bare chest.
She held up his phone. “It’s from Mark Hanson. He wants to know if he can change the order of your church service, different from how you do it.”
He felt sick to his stomach. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
“Yeah, I figured. I wasn’t snooping, by the way. You dropped your phone under the bed. As I pulled it out, the text popped up.”
“It’s okay either way.”
Her expression was so bleak he was disgusted by what he’d done.
“I betrayed you.”
“Not that.”
“Are you mad?”
“No.” She turned and walked to the couch where they’d sat before. He brought over the wine and dropped down next to her. He fortified himself with a sip of the tart Chardonnay then set his glass down. Facing her, he picked up her hand and kissed her fingers, remembering how they felt exploring his body. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before we made love.”
“You tried to, Brady.” She gripped his hand. “I wouldn’t let you.”
“No, this is all my fault.”
“Circumstances. Fate.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Does your God represent fate?”
“No, not at all.”
“Tell me.”
This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to have now. “My God supports people when they need it. Guides them to do the right thing. God doesn’t control outcomes; otherwise, how would you explain the evil in the world?”
“How do you explain it?”
“Evil exists. People are good. And sometimes we behave badly.”
“Does your God forgive?”
“I think God helps us forgive ourselves and others.”
“I’m glad for you.”
She leaned forward and met her forehead with his. They both closed their eyes, stayed that way for a few minutes, then she drew back. “Not that I’m presuming anything, but know that I left Dannerville for a different kind of life.”
“More exciting, right?”
“Yes. I was tired of the narrowed-minded and smothering nature of a small village.”
“And you probably can’t think of anything more narrow than religion.”
“No criticism of you, but you’re right.”
He swallowed hard.
“It’s fortunate that we found out this soon.”
“This soon?”
“Yes. We can stop this attraction between us in its tracks.”
“Is that what you want, Lynne?” He couldn’t control the curtness of his tone.
“I didn’t want that, Brady. You know I didn’t. But now I don’t
see any other choice.”
“I see. Well, that’s that then.” Why was there anger building inside him. He was in the wrong by letting the relationship get this far. Playing with fire.
And they both got burned.
* * *
Lynne walked around the house, feeling its emptiness. The turkey had burned so she threw it in the trash, along with the rest of the meal. Too upset to drive, especially after drinking wine, she decided to stay overnight, so she went upstairs, put on warm pajamas and changed the sheets on the bed. But she weakened, sat down on the mattress and sniffed them. They smelled like him. And sex. She stayed there a long time, then finally managed to make up the bed. She went downstairs and threw the bedding into the laundry closet.
Hurt and confused and frustrated, she bundled up in a heavy down coat, boots and a hat and mittens and went to sit outside with the wine.
The cold pierced her cheeks like needles, made her toes curl. But the frigid weather numbed her some. She thought back to all she’d done this year. How selfish she’d been in insisting they move.
No, that wasn’t fair to her. Ken had started an affair before she made the ultimatum. They were equally to blame for the fact that her marriage had gone cold.
Finally, she was forced to go back inside. She dropped all her outer clothing by the door, then trudged upstairs and curled into the fresh smelling sheets.
But it took her a long time to fall asleep, punishment she guessed—maybe from his God.
* * *
Brady was so aggrieved by his behavior he got even more nauseous on the drive home, so much so, he had to swerve over to the side of the road. As if he gave himself permission, he bolted out of the car and wretched on the grass. On his knees, he thought, This is what sin feels like. He’d tried hard not to sin, but he had. Tonight. Catholics differentiated between mortal and venial sin, but to him, there was only one kind—the sin of hurting others through actions or neglect.
Finally, he managed to stand and shakily went back to the car. He felt like shit. He shouldn’t be driving. He could hurt someone else.
He stopped as soon as he came upon the Dannerville Inn. He’d ask God for a vacancy, but he knew God didn’t do those kinds of things, and he was Adam-and-Eve shamed by what he’d done. So, he avoided God, parked the car and practically stumbled inside.
“Hi, I’m unexpectedly in need of a room for the night.”
“We have one available,” the elderly man behind the desk said. “You look a little peaked. Should I bring up some tea.”
“Maybe a bottle of seltzer. But I’ll wait for it.”
When he finally reached the room, he failed to take in its charm. Instead, he sat on the bed and drank the seltzer, then used the toothbrush in the bathroom and cleaned up some. Taking off his sweater and slacks, he climbed into bed.
And for the first time since he could remember, he didn’t say nightly prayers. Maybe that was why he thought of Lynne long into the night.
Chapter 6
* * *
On the first Thanksgiving after Zach Cartwright died, Tess invited the Sisters of Fire to an open house. The women and their guys mostly backed out of their extended-family dinner plans to be here to support Brooke. But Nick’s parents stopped by, Lynne invited her father, Tess and David brought her mother Ruth and the girls.
Lynne couldn’t very well not show up. Weeks ago, she’d gotten a furlough day by trading a night shift with a single guy in order to be free today. And though the scent of cooking turkey made her sad because of the last time she smelled it, she wouldn’t abandon her best friend because she herself had done something so foolish three days ago. Squelching the acute pain inside her, she stirred gravy in the kitchen when David came up to her.
“You’re done, Lynne. You’re working too hard, now go have a glass of wine and relax with your sisters before dinner.” He winked at her. “Us guys got this.”
She grabbed some wine from the bar set up in the dining room and headed to the porch before anyone could stop her. There, she stared out at the backyard. One of the oddest sensations of winter in New York was the trees laden with snow, but the sun shining brightly on them. Despite her will not to, she wondered what Brady was doing today. He probably had dinner with the congregation. “Damn it."
“Something’s not right with you today, Lynne.”
Caught, she turned to find Brooke behind her.
She could never lie about this. “I’m sad about Zach, too.” Which was the truth. “I can tell you’re hurting.”
Brooke’s face was taut with the expression on the faces of people trying to stay brave. “I am.”
“Did you talk to the boys?”
“Yeah. I’m glad Sam and Sophia,” Zach’s parents “took them to Florida. I know we can’t run from holidays, but for this first one, it’s best for them to escape.”
“They invited you to go along.”
“Yeah. But the boys will be better if I’m not there. I overheard them talking once and they said my grief smothers them sometimes. Besides, then I wouldn’t get to be with you all. Isn’t David cute referring to us as real sisters?”
“Yeah. What a doll.” Brady would love him.
“Are you glad to be here?” Her friend’s eyebrow arched. “You haven’t said a word about your assignation last Saturday.”
“I—” She bit her lip. “I can’t yet. It’s too raw.”
“I’m hard-pressed to imagine what happened that’s so bad. You said he’s a widower, so he isn’t married. Is he gay?”
She had to chuckle. “Anything but.”
“Come on, honey. Tell me what the issue is, at least. Then you don’t have to talk about it. We shouldn’t while everybody is here, anyway.”
Tears clouded Lynne’s eyes but she battled them back. “H-he’s a minister, Brooke.”
“Holy fuck. That’s the last thing I expected.”
Lynne nodded. “Me, too.”
Her friend’s eyes narrowed. “Then shame on him for concealing it.”
“Don’t be hard on him. He tried to tell me, three times. I wouldn’t let him because I didn’t want to spoil our night together.”
“Ouch. That must hurt.”
“It does. That I wouldn’t let him tell me, and by who he is.”
Brooke studied her. “So, this is a deal breaker?”
“What’s a deal breaker?” JJ had come into Tess’s porch.
“Something at work.” This from Lynne.
“Lynne, just say you don’t want to talk to me about it. You don’t have to lie.”
“Well, you’ve learned to negotiate and compromise since you got together with Nick.”
“I did.”
“Okay, something happened to me honey, but it’s too painful to get into right now. I’m not cutting you out.
“I understand. Then, come back into the house. Food’s almost ready.”
Arm-in-arm, they led Lynne to the dining room. She was sure, over her head, the two of them gave each other What the hell looks. But that was okay. Her kids were with Ken, so she was grateful to have her other family with her.
* * *
His father said, “Slow down, son.”
Brady had put his coat on to go back outside with the little ones. He turned. “What do you mean?”
“This is the third time you’re heading there. Other parents are on that snowbank with the kids.”
Helplessly, he stared out at the people gathered in this winter cabin the church had rented for their unorthodox Thanksgiving dinner. This year, the elders had wanted to change things up and have their celebration of God’s gifts in a different location. “Um, I guess. I’ll go help set up for dinner instead.”
His dad said, “I changed my mind. Keep your coat on.” He poked his arms into his own jacket. “We’re going out back.”
“Dad—”
“Now.”
Brady always obeyed this man, even as a child. He and his father were close. His dad knew him in all ways but one.
Robert Jamison didn’t know the sinner inside his son.
They walked out onto the deck. It had been cleared of the two feet of snow they’d gotten over a few days. Brady wondered, despite himself, how Lynne was fighting fires in this cold today. She’d explained to him the hazards of it. He shivered thinking of her out there.
The firepit blazed and they rubbed their hands above it. “Is God not with you these days, Brade?”
“No.”
“Did you shut Him out like you do when you think you’ve sinned?”
Brady shrugged, not wanting to hear that. His father’s expression was so kind, so concerned he could barely stand it.
“I can’t imagine what you could do that would cause God not to be there for you.”
Brady finally met his gaze. His eyes misted.
“Son, you’re so hard on yourself.”
“N-not this time. I hurt someone with my selfishness.”
“Hmm.” His dad stared out over the snow-covered lawn. He took a few seconds to think that over, as was his custom. “I’m guessing this is a situation like that time with Jenny in high school.”
Brady’s jaw dropped.
“Of course, I knew you followed your normal, healthy instincts with her. Truthfully, I felt you were a little too young, but that was up to you two. I only wish you felt you could confide in me instead of Bryce.”
“Dad, I was seventeen.” A sad smile. “Jenny would have laughed if she knew that we weren’t fooling anybody.”
“You brooded for days.”
He remembered. Finally, Jenny made him snap out of his funk.
“So, is it in that…realm?”
“Yes. Only I—” He glanced away, ashamed again. The kids sat in saucers sliding down the hill, romping at the bottom.
“You what, Brade?”
“I-didn’t tell her beforehand who I was.”
“She didn’t know…ah, I see. You didn’t tell her about your calling.”
“No.”
“Was she hurt when it finally came out?”
He could still see the disappointment, the sadness in her face. “Yes, but she took most of the blame.”
