Chapter 10

Evangelina

“Have fun with Mommy,” Christopher says to Nate as he kisses the top of his head. He hands Nate his little dinosaur backpack and Nate rushes on little feet to where I stand at the edge of the driveway next to my car.

I don’t have the energy to fight with Christopher today. After working until almost two am, and then having the hardest time falling asleep, I’m a bit tired today.

I worried Christopher would find some way to screw up my visitation this weekend. “I’ll see you Sunday at six.” Which is our usual time.

“Actually can we switch in the morning? I have a meeting that’s going to run late, so it’d be easier.”

“I had wanted to take Nate to church with me.”

Christopher moves closer so we’re not shouting across his lawn. He raises a brow. “Church?”

I nod. “Yes, I’ve joined a church and wanted to take Nate.”

Christopher laughs harder now. “You at church? Now this I gotta see.”

I don’t say anything more. I’ve never been the type of person who hates on religion. I believe in good and evil. And Christopher is evil.

I could sit here and fight with him about how the change in time completely cuts into my time with my son, but what’s the use? He’s going to win no matter what I say, so instead I smile. “Sure, the morning’s fine.”

My lawyer once told me to pick my battles. Christopher fights me on everything and he knows exactly how to push my buttons. He’s testing me. Trying my patience. Until one day I snap. Well, I won’t give him that satisfaction. With my new job I’ll be able to get my son sooner rather than later.

“I love you,” I say as I kneel down to give my son a hug. It’s been so long since I’ve had this child in my arms. Tears spring to my eyes as his little arms wrap around my neck.

“I missed you, Mommy.”

“I missed you too.” I stand to my full size. “Ready to go have fun?”

He smiles wide, his green eyes shining up at me. “Yes, I’m ready.”

I help him into the booster in the backseat, and place his dino backpack on the seat beside him. “How was school today?” I ask him, remembering when I used to be the one who picked him up daily from childcare. “You still loving kindergarten?”

He nods. “Miss Nottingham says I’m a good student.”

“I know she does.” I start the car and pull out of Christopher’s driveway. “Wave goodbye to Daddy.”

In the rearview I watch as Nate waves to his father who is already barking away into his cell phone and hasn’t even noticed we’re pulling away.

Daddy of the year award there.

Who cares? Maybe one day Nate can see his father for what he truly is. A bad bad man.

I head across town, taking Nate to my little apartment. After I’ve unpacked him and given him a light dinner, we sit in the living room, snuggled up on the couch together.

“What did you want to do tomorrow?” I ask him as Paw Patrol plays lightly in the background.

“Park?”

I smile. “Yes, we can do the park. And maybe if you’re good we can have ice cream for dessert.”

He perks up, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Can we have ice cream right now?”

I glance at my phone, checking the time. It’s not that late. “Actually, yes we can.” If Nate lived with me full time I probably wouldn’t give him ice cream after dinner every night, but I want our time together to be special and meaningful. Something he won’t ever forget.

So, we bound from the couch, and he heads into the kitchen, waiting for me to get the ice cream out of the fridge, but I have another surprise for him.

“I don’t have any ice cream here, bud. Let’s go to the ice cream shop around the corner and get some.”

This lights up his face like the firecrackers on New Year’s Eve and I take his tiny hand in mine.

“Ms. Jessica doesn’t let me have ice cream,” Nate says as I lock up the front door of my apartment.

“Why not?”

“She says it’s not healthy.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s true. Ice cream everyday isn’t very healthy.” I plop my keys into my purse and head down to the sidewalk. “But every once in a while is okay.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

Aww. “I love you too.”

We walk hand-in-hand down the street until we see the ice cream shop come into view. We enter the shop, a little bell dinging as we do, and Nate lets go of my hand to look at all the different flavors in the glass case.

I step up behind him, looking for which flavor he’ll most likely enjoy.

“See something you like?” a deep voice says from behind me.

I glance over my shoulder, shocked when I see Father Carmichael standing so close to me. “Oh, Father, I didn’t see you.”

“That’s not Grandpa,” Nate’s little voice says beside me.

I laugh a little. “You’re right. It’s not Grandpa, but we still call this man Father.”

Nate is utterly confused, and as I look at Father Carmichael’s face, he is as well.

“Who’s this?” he asks, gesturing toward Nate.

“This is my son Nathaniel.”

“I didn’t know you had a son. Are you married? Why haven’t we seen him with you at church?”

I always hate this part of my life story, and I cringe, waiting for the questioning looks I’ll get after I tell my story. “Nate lives with his father. I only see him every other weekend.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes casting no judgment whatsoever. “I can tell that must be hard on you.”

I will not cry. “It’s the worst.” I don’t know what it is about this man that makes me want to tell all my truths to him. I think it’s obviously part of his job. A man of the cloth has a way with people. A way of getting them to confess their uttermost secrets.

“What flavor are you thinking about?” Father Carmichael says to my son.

Nate’s face brightens. “Chocolate.”

I glance at my son. “You don’t want strawberry? I thought it was your favorite.”

He shakes his head. “Not anymore. Yuck. I love chocolate.” He bounces in place. “Can I please get chocolate? Please.”

I nod. “Of course.”

“Allow me,” Father Carmichael says, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh, no. It’s okay.” I feel awful. He must think I’m some poor, pathetic woman. Even though I am broke, I can still buy my son ice cream. “I don’t need your charity.”

He smiles and it nearly splits me in two. “I know you don’t. But I want to buy you both an ice cream.”

The kid behind the counter looks bored with our conversation, and obviously wants to start making our order so I smile at him. “A chocolate cone for my son.”

The kid gets to work and Father Carmichael glances at me. “And for you?”

I know I should refuse, but something makes me say, “Strawberry cone,” instead.

The corner of his lip twists up in a knowing smirk. “Good girl,” he whispers for only me to hear and it instantly lights my blood on fire.

How can two little words spoken from his mouth ignite this inferno deep within? I don’t know how he does it, but he does.

And the way he stares at me right now, it’s almost like he can read my every dirty thought I’m having about him. It makes my insides completely boil.

Maybe he can read my thoughts.

Maybe I should confess.

The kid behind the counter hands me Nate’s cone, and as I hand it off to my son, Father Carmichael orders a strawberry cone too.

“Do you really like strawberry?” I ask him.

He smiles, taking my breath away as he says, “Strawberry is one of those underrated flavors.”

The kid behind the counter hands us our cones and we head outside to sit at a little wrought-iron table.

“Please explain,” I say, licking my ice cream.

He watches my movements closely, and I hand Nate a napkin as he starts to make a mess. “It’s one of those flavors you never think about. It’s just there, taking up space in the ice cream store until you decide to get it one day and you remember it’s really quite good.”

I laugh a little. “It is good.”

He licks his cone and I wish it was me he was licking instead. “It’s very sweet.”

“You like sweet?” Oh my god. What am I doing?

My son is sitting right here as I flirt with a priest. What are things I never imagined on my bingo card? I blush as I work on my cone.

“I do like sweet. A lot.” His eyes darken as he says the words. “I also like other flavors, but I keep coming back to strawberry.”

“When you remember to?”

He nods. “I like strawberry.”

I don’t even know where our conversation is leading, but I try to steer us back on neutral ground. I glance at my son. “So, when did you start liking chocolate?”

He smiles, chocolate ice cream all over his chin. “At Camden’s birthday party. He’s a kid in my class. Jessica took me, and said I could have a bite of chocolate.”

I smile, trying to hide the raging jealousy coursing through my veins at the mere mention of Jessica. “And you loved it?” I ask him, pretending all is right in my world.

Father Carmichael watches me closely as I speak to Nate. Who knows what he’s thinking. He can probably see my jealousy pouring out like hot lava leaking from my pores.

“Did your dad like it too?”

“He wasn’t there,” Nate says. “He’s hardly ever home. He works all the time.”

Yes. I remember.

Another reason Christopher and I never worked out as a couple. Christopher kept late hours. Most of the time he was out with clients, or banging his secretary. He didn’t think I knew. I did.

“What do you and Mom have planned this weekend?” Father Carmichael asks, changing the subject and I’m grateful he has.

“We’re going to the park tomorrow.”

“Is your mom going to bring you to church?”

Nate looks at me, waiting for me to provide him with the answer.

“Unfortunately he has to go back to his father’s place early on Sunday.”

Father Carmichael doesn’t skip a beat. “That’s ok. Maybe I can show you the church tomorrow? Would you like that?” he asks my son.

Nate smiles. “Yes.” He glances at me. “Can we do that, Mommy?”

I lick my ice cream. “Sure.”

Father Carmichael’s eyes meet mine and for a second I picture myself calling him by his first name. Benedict. What it would feel like to know this man not as a priest, but as a man.

“How long have you been a priest?” I ask him.

“A long time.” His cone is nearly gone as he answers.

“Are you happy being one?” What am I asking this man? I can’t believe I just said these words aloud. Of course he’d never tell me if he was unhappy.

“Sometimes.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

“The Lord’s work is tedious. Sometimes I feel like I’m not on the right path. That any little thing could set me off course.”

I finish off my cone as I listen. “Oh,” I finally say, wondering if he’s talking about me setting him off course.

Even though nothing’s ever happened between us outside of my mind, I wonder if that’s what he’s talking about. I wonder if he feels this insane connection between us like I do.

“Sorry.” He brushes off the conversation with a smile. “I guess this subject is a little heavy for ice cream talk.”

“I’m sorry.”

Father Carmichael stares directly at me, his eyes lighting me up from the inside out. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that.”

I almost want to apologize again but I keep my mouth shut.

“What time did you want to stop by for the guided tour?” Father Carmichael asks Nate more than he asks me the question.

Nate again stares at me for the answer.

“A little afternoon. Maybe one o’clock?”

Father Carmichael stands from his seat. “I’ll be counting down the hours. Have a nice night.”

I suck in a breath as I watch him walk away.

Later that night, as I have my son nestled into my side and we’re both falling asleep, Nate asks me about the church.

“That man was nice,” he says in a tiny voice.

“He was nice. He’s in charge of the church.” I explain as much as I can about the church and I’m sure Nate falls asleep as I do.

I can’t stop thinking about Benedict as I lie in bed, counting down the hours until I see him again too.

The way the man wears black should be a sin. It should be considered one of the cardinal sins and Father Carmichael should get on his knees and pay penance for what he’s done.

I wake with a jolt, startling myself out of bed.

Nate is already in the living room, playing with his toy cars.

I put on a pot of coffee as I try to wake up fully.

“When are we going to the park?” Nate asks.

“Let’s have breakfast and then we can get ready to go.”

Nate hops up from the living room floor and heads into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast?”

I wish I could make my son something extravagant. Eggs. French toast. Bagels with cream cheese. Fresh fruit. “Cereal?” I ask him.

“Do you have Reese’s Puffs?”

I smile. “Of course I do.” I fix him a bowl of cereal as I head to my room to shower and get changed.

After we’re both ready, we hop in my car and head off to the church. I’m a bundle of nerves as I park the car, and help Nate out of his booster seat.

I shouldn’t be this nervous to see a man I can never have.

Maybe Greer is right. Maybe I need to try my hand at dating. Or maybe I should just have a one-night stand with some random man so I can stop lusting after someone as forbidden as Benedict Carmichael.

There he is, waiting for the two of us, at the steps of the cathedral. His lean frame leans against the doorframe and I try not to check him out as we approach. Nate bounces around my feet, excited to look inside what he called the big church.

“Hi,” Father Carmichael whispers when we step closer.

“Hi.” I sound like a love-struck teenager, infatuated with her first crush. “Thank you for doing this,” I say once I’ve gained my bearings and remembered who I’m talking to.

“Hi Nate,” he says to my son. “Ready to see God’s house?”

Nate’s eyes widen. “This is his house?”

“Sure is, buddy. Let’s go inside.” Father Carmichael opens the chapel doors and ushers us inside.

“Wow,” Nate says, marveling at all the ornate detail inside the church. His eyes immediately focus on the altar with the statues of Jesus and Mary. He then looks at the stain-glass window. “I want to live in a house like this.”

“Well, this is a holy place so you can’t run or be loud.” Father Carmichael walks down the main aisle of the chapel and we follow behind as he fills in details about the church. Details I never knew about.

It’s obvious this man is truly devoted to the Lord’s work, and I don’t know why this realization hits me square in the chest like a ton of bricks.

I honestly don’t know why this is affecting me as badly as it is. Maybe it’s because since I’ve met him I’ve thought about him way too often. And not in a church-going way. More like in a pull-my-hair-and-call-me-names sort of way.

I blush at the thought. I’ve never in my life wanted sex in a degrading type of way, but for some reason seeing Father Carmichael standing strong in this church makes me want to explore it all with him.

Oh my god. I’m going to hell.

I'm in church right now. With my son. And a priest.

“Want to see my office?” Father Carmichael says to my son.

My son’s face lights up like the Fourth of July, and I really can’t believe how into all this he is. “Yes, can we, Mom?”

I nod. “Lead the way, Father.”