Keeping her in my life no matter how much I wanted her near me was the wrong answer to the right question. And I was painfully aware of it. I needed to get her far, far away. For her sake. For my sake. And for God’s sake.
Maybe college in New York. She’d like it there. Or Boston, or North fucking Dakota –just not here.
I ran my fingers over the pearl and wood rosary beads. They were from the shrine of St. Ignatius of Loyola, a gift from Father Michael. St. Ignatius had been a soldier, like me, which is why this rosary meant too much to my war-ravaged mind. As I gazed at the crucifix, I prayed, the familiar words comforting me and soothing my storm-filled thoughts.
And then, with the last breath of my prayer, it hit me.
Blue didn’t need to get away from me. No. Hell, no! This poor woman had been searching her entire life for her family and had finally found some connection, some way to grasp Luke, the last link to her father: here, in San Diego. Not only that, Mrs. O’Cee loved her, taught her and cherished her like a favorite grandchild; Father Neil was the wise uncle she’d never known. She had family here, she had a home. She deserved a chance to make an honest life for herself. She deserved Luke’s benefits, to go to school without worrying about how she was going to pay the fees or the rent or how she was going to be able to eat dinner. She deserved everything. She needed to stay.
Which meant that I needed to go.
I exhaled. I’d prayed and God had given me the answer. I knew what I had to do. As much as I loved my life in this parish, I’d always known that one day the time would come for me to leave my comfort zone, my safe zone. On a mission, it’s the SEALs who go behind enemy lines, who storm into the unknown. Maybe that’s what I needed to do as a priest and as a man. After all, that’s how we grow as humans. I’d suffer, being away from her, but that was on me, not her. I deserved to suffer, I’d embrace the pain. I was a fucking Navy SEAL until the day I took my last breath. Nothing was accomplished by taking the easy way. Our saying was: the only easy day was yesterday.
Now, it was my time to stop living in fear and take the road less traveled.
I pondered my options. I had always wanted to study Latin at the Vatican in Rome. I was no scholar, but it would be a great challenge.
I closed my eyes and pictured what life would be like in Rome where priests were treated with as much reverence as Navy SEALs were in San Diego. A daily espresso. Sumptuous pasta. A fabulous red wine. Delicious tiramisu. Surrounded by art and culture.
As exciting as all these options seemed, one thing became glaringly obvious.
Rome would be a vacation. And I didn’t deserve a vacation.
I deserved a punishment.
I exhaled again. Back to the drawing board.
I opened my laptop and searched for an answer. God would send me a sign. Tell me what I needed to do in this situation.
I checked my email and saw a message from Wes.
Thorne,
I heard you stopped by my home. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’ve been in Mali doing some incredible work. We’ve been installing clean water systems for villages in the south. I know you’re doing great work down at your parish, but it would be an honor if you could join me here. It would be just like old times. Let me know if there is any possibility the church will allow you to serve a mission out here. We’ve had some trouble with ISIS fighters leaking out of Syria. I’ve had to employ some local security, but man, they suck! Just think about it. I could really use your help, brother.
Wes
This was it. This was the answer to my prayer.
This was my calling.
A change of scenery would allow me to get in touch with God without the distraction of Blue. It would put space between us so she could thrive and reach her potential without me hovering around her, lusting after her, holding her back.
Yes. This was the best for everyone.
I sent an email to my bishop.
I struggled to find the words to express my desire for new challenges, my need for change while valuing the work and opportunities I’d had in San Diego. But even as I typed with two fingers, Blue’s beautiful eyes were in my thoughts and in my heart. Despite that, I didn’t hesitate to press send. Once I clicked that button on the keyboard, a chill ran up my spine.
I’d done it.
There was no turning back now. Even if I wanted to, there was no way I could stay here with Blue. She had her path. And I had mine. Our roads had crossed for a brief moment in time, but now those needed to diverge. They had to. And the sooner the better, because I’d shown again and again, I was shit at avoiding her temptation. Pretty fucking pathetic for a man my age that I couldn’t control myself around a nineteen year-old, but that was the dirty little truth.
As for my email to the bishop, I knew that I’d get approved—ours was a poor parish and the bishop had long felt that having three priests minister to it was at least one too many even though we all worked long hours—just some more guilt to stack on top of the pile I already had.
But hopefully I’d be shipped out before I caved again with Blue and got caught. I grimaced at the thought. If that happened, I would be suspended at the very least, laicized, humiliated. And worst of all, I’d be fucking up Blue’s chance to change.
Yes, I had to go as soon as possible.
But what would I tell Blue? Would she ever forgive me?
Would she ever forget me?
How would I feel when I returned to San Diego, a few years from now, seeing a more mature Blue? Maybe she would have a college degree. Maybe she would have a good job.
And maybe, she’d have a man. And that man, could never be me.
I pushed that image out of my head, of a man fucking Blue, making her come, making her love him.
Love him and not me.
And no matter how hard it would be, no matter how completely it would crush me, I would be happy for her. I had to be happy for her.
If I couldn’t marry her, someone else would and he’d make her happy. Luke would’ve wanted his little girl to be happy and loved. And the only way that would be possible, was if I left this continent. So she could find peace.
Without me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mariana
After a miserable night where I thought of the thousand ways I’d fucked this up, I felt almost afraid to face Gabriel, but over breakfast, he seemed calmer, although he looked tired.
Mrs. O’Cee’s sharp eyes missed nothing.
“You look hagridden this morning, Father Gabriel, so it is!”
I nearly spat my coffee when she said that, knowing how close it was to the truth.
“Thanks,” he grinned at her, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll make sure my pride is kept in check, Mrs. O’Cee.”
“Oh, go on with ye! You know you’re a humdinger, ya big eejit. Now, I’ve had a message from Mrs. Jiminez—her mother is poorly again so could you make time for a home visit, Father?”
“Sure, I’ll go this morning.”
“She says that Diego was out all night again. She’s worried about that boy. He hasn’t even been by to visit his grandma and do her yard work, and you know he dotes on her.”
Gabriel frowned. “Is she worried he’s gotten caught up in the gangs?”
“More likely caught up with some girl,” muttered Mrs. O’Cee.
I was listening, as usual, not speaking much, but the conversation interested me—because if Gabriel was away from the rectory and the church, it could mean some alone time with him during the day, which would definitely be a bonus. And we’d have an excuse to be together while we checked out some places for me. I wasn’t sure if he’d told Mrs. O’Cee about that, so I kept my mouth shut about apartment hunting.
“That old lady need some yard work doin’?” I asked. “Because I don’t have anything to do other than clean up after breakfast.”
Mrs. O’Cee patted my hand. “You’re such a good girl, Mariana. But yard work is too much for a cailín like you.”
&nb
sp; “Easier than on my knees,” I whispered, but Gabriel heard me, his heavy brows pulling together in his habitual frown.
He didn’t like it when I said stuff like that. It was really too easy to tease him.
“I can mow a lawn,” I assured Mrs. O’Cee. “Besides, it’s a nice day to be outside. Gabriel can see to the old lady and I’ll tidy up her yard some.”
Thirty minutes later, we drove off in Gabriel’s beaten up old car. My heart lifted as we left the rectory and all its rules behind, and I turned on his radio, surprised to find it tuned to a rock channel.
He grinned at me, his eyes sparkling behind his aviators. Damn! He looked fine, but then my eyes drifted down to his black shirt and white collar, a visual reminder that he was untouchable.
Then he started singing along and my mouth dropped open in astonishment.
“It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine!” He laughed at the expression on my face. “What? Who doesn’t like REM? They’re awesome. We used to listen to this sort of shit before a mission, get us amped up, you know?”
“Not really!” I admitted, scratching my head at this happy, laughing version of Gabriel. “But I kind of get it. You like this music?”
He rolled his eyes. “Like I said, who doesn’t? Yeah, we’d listen to Ramstein, Green Day, and one of the guys, Hooter, he had a thing for AC/DC. What music do you like?”
I shrugged. “Most things. Neeta always had San Diego es Amor or Geena the Latina on.”
“Who’s Neeta?”
I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t meant to mention her. I wondered how she was doing. Not good if she was working for Cornelius now, which seemed to be the case.
Gabriel was still sending glances my way as he drove easily, his elbow resting on the open window.
“Girl I roomed with, Juanita. She started using.”
He grimaced and his smile dropped. I wished I hadn’t mentioned the dumb bitch. Me and Gabriel were a ton happier when we were just in our private bubble.
I thought he might ask more questions, but he didn’t.
We arrived at the Senora’s house shortly before ten. The sun grew hotter and working outdoors seemed less appealing, but I bullied my long hair into a ponytail, tugged on a ball cap and followed Gabriel out of the car.
It was a small one-story home, with wilting flower beds at the front. It even had a white-painted picket fence, although the paint was peeling. But the backyard was huge and framed by tall jacaranda trees. It was quaint, could be pretty, and I wondered what it would be like to live somewhere like this.
When Gabriel knocked on the door, it was several minutes before a tiny old woman with thin white hair opened it after unbolting at least half-a-dozen locks. Smart lady.
“Buenos dias, Padre,” she said, then cast a curious eye at me.
Gabriel answered in accentless Spanish.
“This is Miss Mariana. She helps Mrs. O’Connor at the rectory but offered to do your yard work today when she heard you needed some help.”
“But she’s such a tiny thing!” said the Senora.
“I’m strong,” I answered. “I’d like to help.”
My Spanish was as good as Gabriel’s. I didn’t know where he’d learned his, but I grew up around it and then my two years in juvie had been spent with Latina girls, so that had been freakin’ finishing school.
The Senora tottered through her house and showed me where the mower was stored, then asked me to water the flowers and lawn when I’d finished. Then she disappeared inside with Gabriel, and I was left to get on with my chores.
I walked up and down pushing the heavy mower, my mind drifting as the sun grew hotter. I started to build up a sweat and quite a thirst, and I couldn’t get to the watering part soon enough.
Finally parking the mower, I attached the hosepipe to an outdoor tap and I gave the flowers a long drink, sprayed the lawn and all the beds. And in an impulsive moment, I let the water soak my overheated skin—it felt like heaven as the spray saturated my clothes. I glanced up toward the house to find Gabriel’s eyes fixed on my wet t-shirt. I grinned at him and he gave me a pained smile back.
I dropped the hosepipe so water continued to soak into the brown lawn. I wanted to walk towards him as his eyes turned dark and hungry. I wanted to step into the shade of the porch, roughly cup his balls and feel his dick grow hard. I wanted to tell him, You’re lying to me, Gabriel. You’re lying to yourself … and you’re lying to God. But I didn’t do any of those things. We simply watched each other across the expanse of the dying grass and felt the longing stretch between us.
Then I turned and picked up the hosepipe, rinsed off my dirty hands and put the mower back in the lean-to. Because this wasn’t our bubble, this was the real world where I was a charity case and he was a Catholic priest.
Which meant I was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong man who was so, so right for me.
“You’re enjoying this fuck-fest, aren’t you, God?” I muttered to myself as Gabriel disappeared back inside.
A few minutes later, the Senora served us lemonade on the porch and started telling us about her grandson, the same Diego who’d come onto me in the park, he’d started disappearing for days at a time and she was worried he’d lose his job at the cash-and-carry. Gabriel promised to talk with the kid, and I could see that his words eased her worries, as if he’d solved her problems already. Then the Senora waved us off after thanking me in a mix of Spanish and English and kissing Gabriel’s hand several times.
He pulled away in his old car, but not before I caught a glimpse of a guy wearing a gang-bandana watching us. Gabriel saw him, too.
“You had any trouble with gangs, Blue?”
“Nope,” I said honestly. “I didn’t get involved with them. I didn’t want any man up in my business telling me what to do.”
He gave a wry smile. “No, I can’t imagine that.”
“So, where we going now?” I asked, when I realized that we weren’t heading back to the rectory.
“I found a couple of places for you on Craigslist last night. I thought we could check them out.”
“Seriously? That is fuckin’ awesome!” I grinned at him, but then my smile faded. “But I don’t have a job.”
“Yeah, you do. Assistant to Mrs. O’Connor. I talked to Father Neil and Father Miguel Angel, and they agreed that she needs more help, and as you’ve been doing the job, you’re officially Assistant Housekeeper at the rectory, along with a small wage.”
“As long as I don’t live there?”
“Until you find something else.”
I looked at him narrowly. “Do you want me to find something else?”
He nodded. “I do. Not just because … of us...”
Us.
“...but because you’re smart, Blue. Too smart to spend your life not realizing your potential. There’s no shame in honest work, but … I looked at college classes for you at the community college. There’d be no problem taking you with your GED. You could start in September.”
I stared at him. “You did all that last night?”
He smiled. “And I’ve got some intel on how you can claim welfare as well as Luke’s benefits. Yeah, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. But ya know, I think my time was much better spent.”
I felt a weird sensation like my throat was closing up. I blinked rapidly, cursing myself for being about to cry. Crying showed weakness. Crying was pointless. But in one night, he’d done more for me than anyone else in my whole life. Ever.
“Are you for real?” I snapped. “I mean, seriously, are you really this damned nice?”
I spat the words like curses and his gaze went from amused, to concerned, to understanding, which was the worst of all. I lashed out because I didn’t want to feel so much. Too much, too fucking much.
“Well, I’m not sure how to answer that,” he said at last. “It’s kind of in the job description for a priest to help people, but … I did this for you, Blue. Because you nee
d it, because you deserve it, because…”
“Because you have a guilty conscience?”
“That’s true, as well. If I’d known Luke had a daughter, I’d have taken care of you, I can promise you that. He was my brother from another mother, and there isn’t a day that goes by I don’t miss him.”
That wasn’t what I’d meant, but he probably knew that. But it was too weird to think that in another world, he’d have been like an uncle to me. Way too freaky. He must have heard my thoughts because the next words he said,
“And yeah, I have a guilty conscience for breaking my vows with you. Big time. But I’m helping because I care about you. Does it have to be a complicated answer? I just wanted to help.”
We were silent as he drove until another question occurred to me.
“Did Luke … did my dad have family?”
Gabriel frowned. “He grew up with his grandmother, but she died some years back. His parents died when he was a kid. There’s no one else. I’m sorry.”
I turned to watch as his lips tightened, and I knew that something about what he’d said upset him.
“At least he didn’t grow up in care, like you. Right, Gabriel?”
He nodded. “I think half the guys on the Teams didn’t have families. I used to wonder if recruiters preferred that—it’s easier to walk into the fire if you don’t have anyone who cares about you at home.”
That made sense. Being in group homes or foster care made you tough—you had to rely on yourself because no one was coming to help you. I learned that at six, then again at nine, and finally a group home, aged 13. The first thing you need to know about living in care is that no one cares. No one gives a shit if you live or die, except that it’s one more or less welfare check. Maybe there are good and decent foster carers out there, but I never met any of them. Some were as bad as my mom.
“Something we have in common,” I said quietly.
Gabriel cut me a look and nodded.
After driving another few minutes, he finally pulled up outside an older apartment building, but one that looked well cared for.
Father Figure Page 19
