With the Father (14 page)

KATE

I
glanced at Paul in the rear-view mirror. He’d chosen to take the backseat so
his friend could sit in the front. Actually, his wrinkly, decrepit friend
probably couldn’t get into my tiny backseat if he wanted to, and if he did, we
might never get him out.

Paul’s ‘friend’ looked like a deflated Santa Claus,
complete with white beard and rosy red cheeks. The obvious weight discrepancy
was the only reason I wasn’t currently making out my Christmas list.
That and the fact that the man obviously lacked a Mrs. Claus since
he was also a priest.
Unlike Paul, who I was becoming accustomed to
seeing in jeans and a t-shirt, Father Russell Schmidt was decked out in the
whole uniform today: black shirt, black pants, conspicuous white collar, and
tight-lipped look of consternation.

Paul looked up and caught me watching him in the
mirror. “So when are you going to consider us good enough friends to tell me
the story behind that scar?” I asked.

“He hasn’t told you about the scar?” Father Russell
asked. “From the way he talks about you, I thought you probably knew all of his
stories.”

“Is that right?” My heart thumped erratically in my
chest. The thought of Paul talking about me to Father Russell made me giddy. I
waggled my eyebrows at the Paul in the mirror. He held my gaze, the slightest
smirk playing on his lips, neither admitting nor denying the allegation. “Fess
up then. I want to hear about the scar.”

Without so much as a blink, Paul deadpanned. “Knife
fight.”

I chuckled and glanced to Father Schmidt whose solemn
expression seconded Paul’s answer and wiped the smile off of my face. “Paul had
a very exciting childhood,” he said.

“I guess so.” I said, continuing to alternate looking
at him and the road ahead.

He looked out the window for a few seconds. When he
spoke again, he was looking at Father Russell rather than me. “I was seventeen
and living on the streets of Roxbury. I was a very low man on a very tall totem
pole, and a deal went bad. Somebody had to take responsibility for it, and that
person was
me
. But shortly after that, I met Russell
and he saved my life.”

He didn’t offer any more. However, this tiny little
glimpse into his life only spurred my curiosity. I didn’t know how it could
even be possible, but I was even more fascinated with him than before.

I was becoming borderline obsessed with the man
– something that hadn’t happened to me since my freshman year of college
when I’d briefly dated a guy three years my senior who’d taught me some hard
lessons about the difference between love and lust and a relationship and a
booty call. The brief affair had left me with a bruised heart and a battered
ego, and I had a feeling that this one wasn’t going to end any better for me.
After all, relationships never work out when the infatuation flows in only one
direction, and the man I was now fascinated with had all but admitted to being
in love with my sister.

Oh, and there was that tiny little fact that he was a
priest.
 
That, too, didn’t weigh in
my favor. The fact that he wasn’t dressed the part today didn’t make it any
less real. And the reality was that he was off limits.

“Life’s funny like that,” I said. “Sometimes it seems
that after you’ve been dealt its hardest blow, something or someone will come
along that changes your perspective on everything. And you have no choice but
to take a step backwards and realize everything you’ve been doing up until now
is inconsequential and that this is the moment - the moment when you start to
do it right.”

Father Russell clapped his hands together and grinned
his Kris Kringle grin. “Exactly. There’s purpose in all things. We must move
forward even if it means changing our view of how things are supposed to be.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see that he’d turned in his seat and was
talking to Paul rather than me.

_________________________

We
were at our third winery. We’d taken the tour offered at each one and had been
amply warned to sip rather than gulp. I’d joked that I had super human strength
and had never once experienced a hangover.
 
When Father Russell commended me on my avoidance of gluttony, I’d
assured him that I was immune only to hangovers, not gluttony.

We were now planted at a small bistro table under a
pagoda covered in grape vines. Paul had stepped away to use the bathroom and
return a call, and Father Russell took the opportunity to jump on me. “I wish
you’d brought her. He’s quite smitten with her, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure that she couldn’t have hung with us
today. Plus, she and my dad had some things to take care of this afternoon.”

“It’s great that she has such a supportive family.”

“My dad is a very special man.”

“Paul says that you look a lot like Grace. He finds it
a little unnerving, actually.” I’d been hearing that my entire life. Because we
were so close in age – only eleven months apart – we’d been asked
constantly if we were twins.

 
“The funny
thing is we’re not even sisters.” After too many ‘tastes’ of wine, my lips were
looser than normal. The fact that Karen and Frank weren’t my real parents was
something I rarely talked about. Not because it was something that I had
trouble accepting, but because they were all I’d known. Talking about the fact
that I was adopted felt like stabbing the only parents I could remember in the
back.

“Is that right?” Paul asked, sliding back into his
chair.

“Yes. My mom and dad are actually my aunt and uncle.
We’re a modern American family,” I said, shrugging to show my acceptance of it.

“Families have to be amorphous these days,” Father
Russell chimed in. “Paul knows something about that.”

Paul clasped Father Schmidt on the shoulder and looked
at him with utter appreciation. “Absolutely, old man. Ab-so-lutely.” He turned
to me. “Can I ask?”

“About my real parents?” I asked. “Sure. They were
killed in a car accident when I was five.”
 

Paul looked sorry that he’d asked.

“I was young when it happened. I don’t even really
remember them. The few memories that I have … I’m not even sure they’re real.
Sometimes I wonder if my memories are nothing more than my imagination bringing
to life something someone told me.”

“I’m so sorry, Kate.” He shook his head sadly. “I
would have never guessed. You really do look like her,” he said, echoing Father
Russell from a few minutes before and confirming what I feared most. When he
looked at me, all he saw was my sister.

During my childhood, I’d hated looking like Grace. I
hadn’t wanted to be a carbon copy of my do-gooding, almost sister. However, as
I’d alluded to earlier, recent events had changed my perspective on just about
everything. I’d come to realize that sharing any characteristic with Grace was
a good thing. Beautiful inside and out, she put everyone else before herself.
If I were blessed with just a piece of her beauty even if it was only the
superficial, less important part, I wouldn’t complain. “Our mothers were
identical twins and apparently our fathers had very diluted DNA.”

Father Russell, who’d also had too many tastes of
wine, let out a belly laugh that I was sure caused the far too small tire
around his waist to jiggle like a bowl full of jelly.

“And what about you, Paul. Tell me about your –
what did you call it, Father Russell – amorphous family.”

“My entire family is sitting at this table,” he
answered. For a mere second, I wondered if he was including me in that
statement. However, that thought was a crazy one. I’d known Paul for all of two
weeks. We’d had dinner once, run together once, and spent one day hunting for
treasures and taste-testing wine. Though I felt like I’d known him for much
longer than that, the truth was that we barely knew each other. Maybe it would
be more appropriate to hope that some day he’d consider me to be a part of his
family.
 

Paul was that kind of guy. The kind that you want to
infiltrate your life and turn it upside down because you know going in that you
are going to be a better person for it.

“Remember, Russell rescued me from a life of crime,”
Paul continued, pointing again to the scar on his cheek. “He took a dangerous,
angry teenager into his home with no expectations. His only requirement was
that I be honest with him. He saved me from myself.”

“You would’ve found your way, kid.” There was a gleam
in his eye. I could tell that Father Russell was proud of the man that Paul had
become though he had referred to him as a ‘kid’ all day. It was a term of
endearment that I now suspected was rooted in the fact that Paul was, by
choice, Father Russell’s son.

“How old were you?” I’d taken my turn at show and tell
earlier, and I figured that if he could dish out the questions, he could also
answer them.

“I was seventeen. Russell found me hiding in one of
his confession booths. I was eating a grinder and hiding out in an effort to
protect all the digits on my hands. I’d skimmed some money off the wrong pot,
and some of my former business associates were looking for me.
 
When Russell discovered me, I ran, of
course, but he ran after me. He was younger then,” he said with a wink, “and
could keep up. I think it shocked the both of us.”

“And so you just went home with him.” I nodded like
that was the end of the story because I could totally see where someone would
want to go home with Father Russell.

“Well, it wasn’t that easy.”

“It was pretty easy,” Father Russell interjected. “In
a moment of well-timed clarity, Paul realized that his options weren’t looking
all that good.”

“True,” Paul said, laughing. “I really didn’t want to
lose any fingers.” He wiggled them at us.

“So you moved in with him and that’s how you ended up
as a priest,” I said, thinking that I was probably still missing a few details
of the story.

“Something like that,” Paul said, looking intently at
Father Russell. I watched as they had an entire conversation without speaking
– a conversation to which I wasn’t privy.

“We better head back,” Paul said, pushing his chair
away from the iron table. “It’s getting late and Russell’s conducting mass for
me tomorrow. He needs to make a good impression on the good people of
Merriville
. Just in case he ever needs to come back.”

“True,” Father Russell said.

I stood, and the last two glasses of wine hit me,
causing me to list slightly on my high-heeled feet. Paul placed a hand on each
of my arms. “Whoa,” he said. I looked down at his hands and then up into his
eyes and could’ve sworn that the heavens parted and a ray of light shown down
upon us. If, in that moment, a chorus of angels had began a melodic rendition
of hallelujahs I wouldn’t have been surprised.

The air around us was charged as he ran his hands up
to my shoulders. He gave my shoulders a light squeeze, and I halfway expected
his fingers to leave burn marks. “Looks like I’d better drive us home,” he
said. His green eyes glistened in the moonlight and caused my knees to go weak
again.

I nodded, conceding that he should drive. “Sorry, I
guess I should have listened to their warnings.”

“It’s been a long day. Maybe three wineries was one
too many. Even superheroes have an Achilles heel. Maybe yours is cheap
moscato
.” I smiled weakly at his joke. I already knew what
my Achilles heel was, and it wasn’t cheap
moscato
.

I was filled with shame. I didn’t know if I was more
ashamed that I’d spent the morning in the arms of a man I didn’t want or that
I’d spent the evening wanting a man I shouldn’t.

Grace

“Did
you find anything?”

I looked up at Kate and shoved it all back into the
box. “I can’t focus. I can’t figure out what was going on his head. Nothing
makes sense. It just looks like random withdrawals here and there.”

“Like what?” she asked, settling onto the couch. She
watched me eye the glass of wine in her hand. “Do you want one? Apparently, I
bought ten bottles yesterday.”

“How is it possible that you weren’t hung-over this
morning?”
 

She shrugged. “It’s my super power. Don’t try to
understand it.”

I stood with the box in my hands. “What I don’t
understand is why Jonathan would make a payment to the school two days after I
did. He gave me the check to give to the school secretary so it’s not like he
didn’t know that I’d already paid them for the month. But then two days later,
he paid them again, and what’s really strange is that the second payment wasn’t
for the full amount.” I slid the box under the coffee table to get it out of my
sight and then collapsed again in the chair across from her.

“Yeah, that’s weird. Maybe he just forgot.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself, but why not all of
it? It makes absolutely no sense.”

“Maybe it was a donation. What else?” she said.

“Well, he wrote several checks for fifty-five dollars
but left the ‘to line’ blank.”

“Who cashed them?”

“I can’t tell. I can’t read the signature.”

“And they didn’t write it in on the front?”

“Nope.”

“Can you even do that? Cash a check without filling it
out?” she asked.

“Apparently.”

She looked deep in thought for a moment. “Do you think
the checks were for Hope?”

“The thought has occurred to me. But if fifty-five
dollars was all she was getting, she wasn’t much of a kept woman.” I was amazed
at the level of detachment with which I delivered the words. The fact that I
could talk about this so easily – that I had now accepted the affair
– when just four days ago I’d been a basket case over it – felt
like a real accomplishment. Anyone who’d seen me grieve for the past five
months wouldn’t have believed the transformation. However, my transformation
was the direct result of another transformation.

Over the past week, the love I’d felt for my husband
had morphed into something that I no longer recognized. The face that I’d been
so afraid of slipping away, the face that I’d always looked upon with nothing
but adoration – because I
had
adored my husband – was once
again first and forefront in my mind. Only, as I remembered it, the raging ball
of fury that was now nestled into my gut roared to life, permanently decimating
any remaining love I had for him. I wasn’t worried about not remembering him
any more. At this point, I barely wanted to remember him at all.

How did someone go from being completely and totally
in love with someone – so in love that she didn’t believe she could go on
without him – to hating him in a manner of days? Easy. Learning that your
entire life had been a lie will do that to you.

She sipped her wine, deep in thought, and then shook
her head. “I’ll ask Maddox again.”

I groaned and threw my head against the back of the
chair. “You talked to Maddox about it?” I asked.

“Of course, I did. He was Jonathan’s best friend.
 
If anyone knew what was going on, it
would be Maddox, right?”

“I know,” I said. “What if her name isn’t Hope? What
if she was his hope?” The thought made me ill.
 

 
“I thought
of that, too. But it’s just too cheesy for Jonathan. Don’t you think?”

I groaned. “I’ve been such a fool. He had a
girlfriend, Kate. He probably paraded all over town with her.”

“No you weren’t. Jonathan covered his tracks well. How
could you have known?”

“I don’t know,” I said in defeat. “But I feel like an
idiot.”

“Don’t you want to know who she was? How can you stand
not knowing?”

“Because I just want to move on.”

“Well, I’m all for that,” she said, sitting her glass
of wine down on the coffee table and leaning forward as if she meant business,
“but I don’t know if I believe you. I know you, and I know how much you adored
your family.”

I shrugged. “It’s pretty clear that I was the only
one.”

“But I also know that Jonathan wasn’t present in it
for a long time before he died, and I think you’re realizing that now, too.”

As usual, Kate was right. She had the ability to crawl
into my head like no one else could. No one, not even Jonathan, knew me as well
as my sister. “Okay, ask Maddox, but don’t make a big deal of it. I really
don’t want this getting out around town.”

“I’ll try. I feel like Maddox is holding out on me.
But Grace,” she said, pausing for a moment. “This is
Merriville
.
You know when the word of this hits the
street,
there’ll be no stopping it. You need to prepare yourself for that. But my
thought is that someone out there – possibly everyone – already
knows. Better for you to be on the front end of it than the back end of it.”

I nodded in silent acquiescence.

She gestured to the box that I’d stowed under the
coffee table. “The bank stuff … do you want me to go through it with you again?
Maybe I’ll catch something you didn’t.”

“No. I’ve done nothing but stare at it for two days
now. Will you look through it tomorrow though?”

“Sure.” She was quiet for a few minutes, playing with
the fringe on the throw pillow in her lap. “So what do you want to do tonight
then?” she finally asked, looking up.

“I thought you had a date with Maddox.”

“I did, but I’m not feeling well.” She took a sip of
her wine, which was nearly empty.

“Could have fooled me,” I said, laughing.

“Well, I would have had to get up, get dressed, and
try to make myself pretty … blah, blah, blah. I’m just not feeling it. I
rain-checked him again.”

“You know it hasn’t rained in months.”

“Yes, smart ass. I’m well aware. It’s the fucking
seventh layer of hell out there. I don’t know why anyone would choose to live
here.”

I ignored her jab at our hometown. There was no mistaking
Kate’s disgust for the town where we’d grown up. I didn’t share her sentiment
or her repulsion of it, but I certainly understood it. She’d been owed a
different life and had been given this one as a consolation prize. She’d never
resented my parents for what had happened to her own; instead she’d taken it
out on the town.
 

“I don’t know why you’re hesitating with him, Kate.
Stop fighting it. He’s good-looking, he has a decent job, and you guys have
total chemistry. You can’t deny that.”

“Nope. Can’t deny it. I had sex with him yesterday,”
she said, ducking her head. “In his office.
During business
hours.
With his secretary right outside.” Remorse didn’t look good on
Kate, and it was something I’d seen only a handful of times.

“So?” Though the guilt was out of place for her, I
wasn’t in the least bit surprised that she’d had sex with Maddox. Kate had
probably done things that would curl every last hair on my head if I knew about
them.

Of course, I’d kissed a priest in a veterinarian’s
office two days ago so maybe she didn’t have anything on me this week.

Kate’s shoulders raised in a non-committal shrug. “It
was so-so.”

 
“Sounds to
me like you’re out of practice. Try, try again, as Mom would say.”

“I’m not sure Mom would approve in this particular
situation.” She took another sip of wine and looked down at the floor
thoughtfully. “He makes perfect sense. I should want him, right?”

“But you don’t?”

“I don’t know.” She returned her attention to the
pillow in her lap, picking apart the fringe. Finally,
she
looked up
,
her eyes clear and determined
. “You
know what I want?”

“What?”

A wicked smile accompanied her answer, “More wine.”

I stood up to get her a refill. After the day I’d had,
I wanted a glass, too. “Give me your glass.”

I reached out to take it from her, but she curled the
nearly empty glass into her chest as if to protect the last drops from me.
“Just bring the whole bottle. We’re going to annihilate it anyway.” She made
the sound of a bomb exploding, and I laughed my way to the kitchen.

“I love hearing you laugh. You should do it more,” she
said when I returned.

I snapped my fingers. “That reminds me. I have a movie
for us to watch.” I walked to the table by the front door and retrieved the
yellow bubble envelope that had arrived earlier that day.
 

“Is it porn?” she asked. “Please tell me that it’s
porn.”

I rolled my eyes and threw it at her. “No, it’s not
porn. Besides, I would never watch porn with
you.
”

“You would never never watch porn with
anyone
,”
she muttered under her breath while digging through the envelope. When she
pulled out the plastic DVD case, she looked at it like it might be contaminated
with leprosy. “Seriously, Grace? Keeping the Faith?”

“Have you seen it?”

“No. And, I’m pretty sure there’s a reason. I think it’s
on the C-list of movies. Maybe D.” She scanned the back cover. “Let me guess. A
rabbi and a priest enter a bar …”

I giggled. “Ummmm, that’s why I bought it
.
Father Paul said it’s one of his favorite movies. I was
curious.”

“Wait. Let me get this straight,” she said, her eyes
narrowing on me. “You’re still calling him ‘Father Paul’ but you’re ordering
movies online because it’s one of his favorites?”

I let out an exasperated huff. “Just stick it in.”

“That’s what the rabbi said,” she said, walking to the
cabinet that held the television and DVD player. “Do you know why? Because the
priest couldn’t.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, despite all of the
inappropriate thoughts I’d been having about Paul. “I can’t believe that I was
worried about my room in hell. You’ll already be there to keep me company.”

“Whatever,” she said, waving me off. “Your do-gooding
ass won’t get anywhere near hell.”

“That’s comforting to hear,” I said, laughing.

“You’re doing it again,” she sang, returning to her
couch and nestling back into it.

“What?”

“Laughing.”

“I’ll try to stop.”

“Please don’t,” she said just as the movie opened with
a drunken priest stumbling into a bar. “See I told you. A rabbi and a priest
walk into a bar …”

“Shut up,” I said, already engrossed.

We spent the next two hours watching the rabbi and the
priest unknowingly fight against each other for the love of the beautiful
blonde that they’d known since childhood. In the end, the priest risked it all
and still came up empty-handed.

“Why would
that
be a priest’s favorite movie?”
Kate asked. She seemed angry about what had felt like an inevitable outcome to
me.

That was the difference between Kate and me. She was
the dreamer, and I was the realist.
 

There was no conceivable way that the priest could’ve
ended up with the girl in the end. The story wouldn’t work that way. The fact
that the girl fell in love with the rabbi rather than the priest was the safer,
more convenient ending. She could change for him and become a Jew without
having to rearrange her entire life. However, if the movie had played out
differently, if Father Brian had won Anna’s heart, he would have had to give up
everything and … well … all hell would’ve broken loose.
Literally,
perhaps.

“It ended the way it should,” I said, even though I
wasn’t completely satisfied with the ending either.

“Horseshit and if you’re thinking that has to be
your
ending, double horseshit. Let’s get real for a second,
because that was a fucking movie, and this is real life.
 
Real. Life. Grace.”

“The Resplendent Rector is hot as hell. And if you ask
me, he’s teetering on the edge. If you’re not going to try to push him over, I
might give it a try myself.”

Something in her tone of voice made me think it was
more than a dare. It was a threat. Even if it was an empty one, it put
me
on edge. I’d been jealous because she’d gone to Fredericksburg with Paul when
I’d refused. Now, I wondered if I had good reason to be. It may not be right
for me to want him, but I certainly didn’t want my sister to have him either.

“I need to think about it,” I said, staking a
temporary claim to him. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“But it doesn’t feel wrong either, does it?”

“I don’t know, Kate!” I was completely frustrated now.
“I
said
I need
to think.”