Saints and Sinners (A Classic Romance) (8 page)

* * *

"As you'll notice in the church bulletin, we're forgoing the usual hymn to take the opportunity to share in fellowship. Don't be shy. You don't have to whisper or stay glued to your pew. Stretch your legs and share your hearts. And handshakes are good too."

Scattered laughter echoed through the quaint church. Matthew raised his hands, which hadn't been this damp since he'd delivered his first sermon. "Please rise and let's greet one another with joy, for on this beautiful new day we're blessed to be living."

Before he could nod to Sally, the sound of an elaborate composition filled the hallowed halls.

A quick observation assured him that the congregation was closer to running with the ball than dropping it. Carefully allocating his attention to the members of the gathering, he moved from pulpit to flock.

At the front pew Dee and Loren and Jason had their backs turned to him as people pumped their hands. Matt struggled not to remember the erotic manipulations he and Dee had devised in a moment of restrained passion. He'd been struggling not to remember a lot of things in the last fifteen minutes, which seemed closer to fifteen hours.

Relieved to pass Dee's row, he moved down the aisles, shaking hands and returning greetings by rote. Just when he thought he could actually pull off reversing directions and retreating to some safety behind the pulpit, Jason waved at him. Dee, who was busy acknowledging Maude's welcome, glanced his way.

Their eye-to-eye contact was brief but significant.

She'd challenged him in a millisecond stare.

With a deep breath Matthew confronted the unavoidable.

"Have you met the church's new neighbors?" Maude patted Loren on the back and was rewarded with a tight, forced smile. "This is Loren and this is Jason and this is—"

"We've all met, thanks, Maude. How are you, bud?" Matt focused hard on Jason. "Nice suit you're wearing today."

"I didn't want to wear it, but Aunt—"

"Aunt Hazel sent it for his birthday, and she'll be pleased to hear it fits so well. Won't she, Jason?" The color in Dee's cheeks ran high. Her voice was higher than usual too, and softly breathless.

"Yes, Dee. That's right."

Now that he'd been forced to listen to her voice and look directly at her face instead of over her head, Matthew couldn't take his eyes off Dee. Maude was rambling on about last week's family reunion, but he tuned her out while Dee turned him on with no more than her hesitant smile.

"And you're all invited to the pot luck lunch after church. Right, Rev. Matthew?
Ahem.
Rev. Matthew. I
said
they should join us for lunch, right?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course, Maude."

Matthew was distantly aware that Sally was going into her grand finale.

"That's a lovely piece Mrs. Henderson is playing. A very impressive solo." Dee gestured toward the piano.

Allowing himself the luxury of sharing their private joke, Matthew smiled. "I think that's the general idea."

The stained glass window to her side cast a glow over the smooth and infinitely touchable texture of her skin. His fingers tingled, remembering the feel of it. Before he was consciously aware of the action, he lifted his hand to touch her once again.

"Guess I'd better get back to the choir loft."

Maude's voice broke into his trance. What was he thinking, doing? In front of God was one thing, in front of the entire congregation was another matter entirely.

His hand poised between him and Dee, he covered the awkward lapse by reaching for Dee's hand in what he hoped appeared to be a welcoming gesture.

Ssssss.
He could have been testing a hot iron with a licked finger. Dee's breath audibly caught. His own was compressed into a groan that lodged in his throat.

Caught between the urge to haul her into his arms and cut off his own before he did it, Matthew somehow managed to extricate himself from their melded grip.

His heart was laboring by the time he climbed the few steps back to the pulpit.

"Let us pray," he said in a hoarse voice. He prayed for strength. He prayed for guidance. He prayed for inner peace and good judgment. He prayed as he'd never prayed before in his life.
Amen.

After the collection plate was passed and announcements made, Matthew reluctantly relinquished his nice padded chair to approach the pulpit once more. He was careful not to look directly at Dee, afraid he'd go blank if he did.

"Friends, I have a story I'd like to share with you."

Good, he told himself, good. Voice even, hands no longer sweating. There went little Andy scribbling in the hymnal. There went Andy's mom yanking it away and pinching his chubby thigh. Business as usual, he thought. Matthew launched into his sermon, satisfied he could pull it off.

"We're all familiar with tax collectors, aren't we?" He surveyed the nodding heads. "And everyone knows what a scarlet woman is, certainly." Several of the heads quit nodding and turned in a single direction. Matthew automatically followed their path.

Dee.
He'd known some small minds hadn't been overly accepting of her presence, but he'd had no idea the gossip had gotten so mean. It was too late to revise his opening, but at least Matthew could thank heaven that she was in the front pew and appeared unaware of the eyes boring into the back of her head. Anger, immediate and forceful, had him gripping the pulpit tightly.

But that wasn't all that had him clenching and unclenching his hands.

She was bathed in a golden glow. Her eyes, luminous and sparkling, were fixed on his mouth. He wet his lips and groped for the words that had vacated his brain.

"These, uh, people were, um, social outcasts. Judged and—and condemned by moralists who thought themselves righteous enough to... play God."

Matthew jerked his gaze away and stared down the same breed of moralists addressed in his sermon. He'd intended to speak of the wrongness in prejudging others, but now he was fueled by outrage that such unjust prejudice had been visited upon Dee and her family.

In the face of his silence, the church was unnaturally quiet. And then there was a low murmur Which he broke with a voice unlike his usual pleasant tone, one that was stern and challenging. Once Matthew had the eyes that had turned on Dee glued to the floor, he continued his message, subtly making his point by using the viewpoint of those shunned.

Afterward at the pot luck lunch, Matthew stood at the head of the food-laden table and greeted those in line.

"Powerful sermon. Rev. Matthew."

"Thank you, Alice," he replied.

"That was real food for thought you delivered, Pastor," Mr. Fields told him. "Thank you for reminding us of those truths we tend to forget."

"I'm always speaking to myself as much as to the next man, but I'm glad you got so much out of the message."

"What do you think, Rev. Matthew?" Sally Henderson asked excitedly.

What do I think? My blood pressure's still so high it's boiling, the woman I've possibly been waiting for all my life but whom I can't get within ten feet of without touching is next in line, and I'm not up to fighting the no-win battle with an audience at lunch.

"What do I think about what, Sally?"

"About the greeting time. I do believe the congregation liked it after all."

"Yes, I have to agree. I'm sure that beautiful solo you played had a lot to do with encouraging the spirit of fellowship during our worship hour."

"Your message was very thought-provoking, Matthew." Dee didn't offer her hand as had those preceding her. Matt thanked God for small favors.

"That was really neat, the way you pretended you were those Bible people," Jason exclaimed. "Totally cool."

"Yeah," Loren said. "Especially when you tried to talk like that sleazy chick those dumb stone throwers caught getting it on with her boyfriend in a tent. But what I don't understand is why they didn't jump on him too."

"Loren!" Dee gasped.

"I'm glad it kept your attention, Loren. And as for your question, let's Just say we've come a long way, baby."

"Will you sit with us at lunch, Rev. Matt?" Jason asked. "We'd really like that. Especially Dee."

"Jason!" Dee glanced around as her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

"Well, you would. And after everyone's finished eating, would you pass the football with me again, Rev—"

"That's enough, Jason," Dee broke in. "Rev. Matthew has other people besides us to visit with. Come on, kids. Others are waiting to talk to their pastor." She all but shoved her brood forward as she muttered, "Later, Matt."

* * *

Dee ended the last note of the Moonlight Sonata and went straight into a morose Bach fugue. With each ponderous chord she remembered Matthew's evasion at lunch. With each mournful measure she relived his stilted apology to Jason for having other duties to attend to, then kindly promising that they'd burn some pigskin again real soon.

As hard as she tried to forget with the rare aid of a bottle of wine, her mind replayed the bitter pill she'd swallowed, smiling all the while she'd cried bitter tears inside. Now she was alone, so damn alone and refusing to let them flow.

Dee could picture how every chance glance they shared was broken by his abrupt turn of the head. Then whenever she moved in his direction he had gone the opposite way and struck up a conversation with anyone but her.

He'd avoided her with such obvious maneuvers that she'd felt like a leper. One of the very outcasts he'd championed in his sermon. And she was one, wasn't she? She'd felt the false acceptance of fleeting cordialities. She'd endured the unspoken scrutiny and the gossip she'd heard whispered behind her back. Dee was still stunned. Stunned and hurt.

Why hadn't she realized? Matthew had a reputation to maintain, a congregation to please, and she apparently struck out on both accounts. He'd given her warnings and explanations that she'd been an idiot not to understand. His interest in her was relegated to clandestine advances on dark porches and in the privacy of a kitchen.

"You bastard," she croaked. "You two-faced bastard. I've been betrayed, my heart nearly torn out. I've been lied to and buried people I've loved. But never have I felt the kind of shame I went through today. You hypocrite, you—"

Laying her head against the piano, Dee vowed she would not,
would not
let go of the sob. She'd choke on it first.

"Cristofori, Cristofori. I miss you so much. I miss you almost as much as I miss Alexis and no one misses her as much as I do." Dee buried her face in her hands.

She was sick of her life. She'd been sick of it for years. Didn't she have enough on her empty platter before one of God's messengers made it his mission to make her life more miserable than it already was?

Deciding she was close to blasphemy and knowing she had enough marks against her as it was, Dee smashed the keys in frustration, then mentally apologized for her disrespect.

"Believe me, I relate," she said to the piano. "I give everything I have to give and no matter how much, it's never half enough."

If only she could escape in sleep and put the whole horrible day, the even more horrible past five years, behind her. But even after downing half a bottle of wine since the kids had gone to bed, she wasn't close to being sleepy.

Hot bubble baths were good for insomnia. So was more wine. Only the more she soaked, and the more wine she drank, the more her mental defenses dissolved. Each bubble seemed a caress tantalizing her sensitized skin. Each sip of wine flowing down her throat created the heady sensation she'd felt when Matthew had traced his fingertips down her neck.

"It's not him," she insisted stubbornly. "Not that prude with the multiple personality disorder. The only reason he's gotten to you, Dee Sampson, is that you haven't let a man touch you in nearly five years. A dog could lick your ankle and probably get the same reaction."

She hiccupped. What was that old remedy, the one about holding liquid in your mouth until the hiccups went away? The first time didn't work, but the second one did. By then she'd forgotten the reason she'd polished off the bottle.

"Uh-oh." Dee giggled tipsily. "All gone." Then she giggled some more. For not being much of a drinker, she'd sure done her share tonight.

Good thing the kids were asleep. She had an example to set. Responsibilities to take care of. She was a damn good mom, but even damn good moms needed down time.

Water sloshed from the tub as she crawled out over the side. Once she'd made it to her feet. Dee pouted at the steamed-up full-length mirror attached to the door. Not a bad body. Not so much as a stretch mark.

She struck a naughty pose, thrusting her breasts out and slowly rotating her flared hips. Flat tummy too.
Humph.
The good Reverend probably thought she wore a girdle. Pursing her lips, she pretended to blow him a kiss.

"Take that, you sanctimonious saint," she said, her words slurred. "C'mon, lover, fall from grace and join me."

Dee wrapped a towel around her, then wove dizzily to her tiny bedroom. The few nightclothes she owned were practical, except for one revealing crimson nightie she could blame only on her hasty packing. She felt it slither like a second skin down her body. It was purchased for a honeymoon, but if she counted the number of times she'd worn it, the gown was still new.