Tempted by Evil (12 page)

Seeming restless, he turned toward the trail, exposing a flawless back with thick, bronze shoulders imprinted with some sort of silvery scar. Without thinking, I slowly rose to my feet and reached out my right hand to touch his shoulder just as he turned to face me. He eyed me suspiciously as I let my arm fall quickly to my side.

"What is it?" I managed to verbalize, despite the fact that my heart was lodged in my throat. "A scar or birthmark?"

"Come on," was his only response as he scooped me up like I weighed no more than overnight bag.

I did my best not to move or breathe while he carried me down the path, past the docks, and toward my loft. I was nearly overwhelmed by the proximity of him and having his skin pressed up against me. I could only imagine the kind of penance I would suffer for the feelings I was having.

Carrying me up the stairs, he placed me gently on my feet while I pulled my key out of my pocket and unlocked my door.

“Um, thanks for your help,” I said, standing inside the doorframe, my arm cradled into my chest. “How did you know where I lived?”

“Small town,” was his only response as his gaze moved from my door to my eyes.

“Would you like to come in?”

“No,” Merrick replied gruffly. “I should be going. And
you
should be resting. Your wound isn't as deep as I thought, but it won't close unless you keep it still for a while. Can you manage that? ”

“Right,” I replied dazedly. “Resting . . . sure, I can manage that.”

He turned to walk back down the stairs, and I was once again mesmerized by the silvery mark on his shoulder. As I stared at it, the throbbing in my arm reminded me that the shirt clinging to my injured limb belonged to the man retreating down the steps.

“Merrick, wait,” I called after him. “Your shirt?”

My voice was hesitant as I moved to pull the stained fabric away from my skin, the blood already dried to a deep red color.

“No! You need to leave it there for now,” he ordered, stopping momentarily to look back at me. “Just keep it. It’s only
The Who
.”

“
The Who
?” I questioned stupidly.

“Exactly.” I could almost hear the hint of a smile in his voice before he disappeared entirely from sight.

The sound of his footsteps on the landing told me that he was gone. Feeling slightly ashamed, I lifted my arm and a clean part of his shirt up to my nose and inhaled deeply. I could smell him as though he were standing right in front of me―like the ocean after a storm. The scent of my blood, however, ruined the perfect seaside mental picture I’d created and brought to mind unpleasant images of all sorts of ominous creatures lurking below the deep.

I truly do have one fantastic imagination,
I thought to myself as I closed the door to my apartment.

While I managed to avoid breakfast with Alexa, saying no to Julian twice in one day was next to impossible. Thus, I found myself one slice of bread on a Julian sandwich with his sister comprising the other as we sat on the sofa for what he called the “greatest trilogy of all time.” Apparently my education in fun would continue with a Star Wars movie night, and Alexa had decided to join us.

I mentally crossed myself for thinking that spending an evening with someone who openly hated me didn't sound even remotely fun. Mother Superior’s chiding rang through my ears even after my absence from convent life, so I decided to smile and make the best of the situation. And, with any luck, Alexa would try to get to know me. It had been at least twenty minutes, and she hadn’t said or done anything rude. I wondered if maybe the evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Grabbing a piece of popcorn from the bowl on Julian’s lap, I listened intently to Princess Leia’s message that Obi-Wan was her only hope. Snuggled into Julian’s side, I relaxed and let the movie transport me to its galaxy far, far away.

*

The first two movies went by so fast that I didn’t even have time to think about being tired. But by the time the third rolled around, I was exhausted.

“I think it’s time for me to head home,” I said through a yawn, leaning forward and stretching as Julian stood up to put in the next movie.

“Awww, really?” he complained, his blue puppy dog eyes pleading with mine.

“It is late, Julian,” Alexa chimed in, excusing herself to head up the stairs. “Night.”

“Goodnight, Alexa,” I added a bit too eagerly, still unsure why I wanted so much for her to like me.

“Night, Lex,” Julian called out to her before turning back to me. “So, I think it’s a bit late for you to be heading home. You should just stay over in the guest room tonight.”

“I don’t mind walking home, Julian,” I countered.

“I know,” he replied with his boyish grin, strategically placing his arms around my waist. “And I don’t mind driving you either, but I like knowing that you’re right down the hall. I sleep better.”

“Is that so?” I responded as flirtatiously as I could. “However could I deny you then?”

“Let’s not find out,” he said as he placed a tender kiss on my lips.

“Oh, wait!” I cried out as I remembered something important. “I can’t stay over. I was going to mass in the morning. I haven’t been in so long, and I really feel that I should―”

Julian silenced me by placing his index finger to my lips.

“You worry too much,” he stated, his sense of calm somehow beginning to radiate through me. “Mom has clothes in the spare room for you. You can get ready for mass here. It’s all good.”

“Have I told you how wonderful you are?” I asked him, biting my lower lip.

“Not today.” His blue eyes twinkled as an impossibly wide smile took over his entire face.

“Well, you are.”

Guiding me up the stairs, he opened the door to the spare room that had been mine the first night I had stayed in the Casey home. It was just as I left it. Pulling me into a gentle hug, he quickly released me to look into my eyes.

“Sweet dreams, Aspen.”

My night was filled with dreamless sleep until a beam of sunlight assaulted my eyes. I rolled over and pushed the curtain of unruly red waves out of my face.
Sun?
I never slept past sunrise―or at least I never used to. How quickly my life was changing.

My mouth fell open in astonishment as I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Had I really slept in until 7:30 without the alarm going off? Annoyed with myself, I bounded out of bed and rushed toward the guest bathroom until I came to my senses and realized that I wouldn't make it to Sunday mass at a new church if I followed my normal routine. Although I felt in desperate need of a shower, I opted to forego it in favor of being on time―punctuality was a compulsion instilled by the sisters that would not easily be dismissed.

Opening the closet door to choose my attire, I briefly pondered a skirt and sweater set similar to the one I'd worn a few nights ago to dinner, but thought better of it when the debacle with Julian's sister began to replay itself in my mind. Stifling a groan, I decided that a pair of jeans and a sweater would to have to suffice.

My hair was another matter entirely. The two minutes spent brushing my teeth offered much time for contemplating myriad possibilities for styles, including shaving my head like a Buddhist monk. Instead, I tossed it up into a messy bun and slathered on some lip balm. Grabbing my coat and tucking my cell phone into my pants pocket, I closed the bedroom door behind me, tiptoeing down the stairs and out the door into crisp New England air.

As I hurried down the sidewalks of Beaufast, eyes cast down and hands buried in my coat pockets for protection from the chill, my thoughts began to wander to the last time I sat in the pews of a church. Constance's familiar smile shone down on me from the choir loft as I listened to the nuns' song fill the vast cathedral with a reverence that left me silent and deeply reflective. Perhaps it was that same sense of introspection I had been dreading at the mere idea of stepping foot back into a church.

Since I’d left the convent, my life had become nearly unrecognizable, and I was beginning to feel as though I was becoming a bit unrecognizable myself. I reflected on the uncharitable thoughts and words I had spoken that week, and guilt flooded through me. Shame washed over me as I added lust and envy to my list of transgressions. The simplicity that accompanied life with the sisters had lent itself more readily to the virtues I had come to expect from those around me―myself, most of all.

I was finally discovering that the concrete and stained glass that had sheltered me from the world had also sheltered the world from me.

*

As I climbed the steps of Our Lady of Good Hope Church, anxiety and peace warred within me. While I was nervous to be attending mass at a new parish, my soul felt the comfort I imagined one felt when returning home from a long absence, like Odysseus returning to his wife and son in Ithaca after ten long years. Making my way inside the large wooden doors, I admired the beautiful sanctuary with its stained glass, ornate woodwork, and abundance of flowers and candles for several moments. When I knew I could stall no longer, I clumsily lumbered down the center of the aisle. I knelt before I entered a pew and thought about how lovely it was to be able to choose my own seat for a change.

In the convent, I was required to sit in the first three pews, and it was common knowledge that the father watched everyone in the front more closely. Despite my awareness of that fact, I couldn't quite bring myself to sit in the back with what Mother Superior called the "riff raff.”

Perhaps one day
.

Compromising slightly, I contented myself with a seat somewhere in the middle.

I closed my eyes for just a moment to allow the rest of my senses to drink in the atmosphere. The aroma of burning candles mixed with sweet perfume filled the air and the pipe organ hummed low in the background. The familiarity was so overwhelming that I found my eyes opening themselves up to stare at the choir loft as if expecting Constance to be there. Instead, the priest was making his way down to the altar.

Father Flynn, as he introduced himself, was an older man with a distinguished air about him. His kind eyes seemed to welcome everyone in the church, and I quickly fell into a peaceful rhythm with the recitations and responses of the service. However, when the father began his sermon, I quickly fell out.

His face had gone from looking warm and friendly to serious―troubled, even. He stood before the parishioners, scanning each face until his gaze met mine.

"I'm afraid I'm quite at a loss for words this morning, ladies and gentlemen," he began as he cleared his throat and shook his head slightly, breaking eye contact with me. "You see, I had a lovely Sunday morning sermon planned for you, but I feel as though God is leading me in a very different direction this morning."

His words piqued my curiosity because I had never heard Father de Palo, the priest from my former parish, deviate so radically from his intended course.

"Brothers and sisters," the unorthodox priest started again as he pinned his stare disconcertingly back on me. "It is imperative that you make every effort to turn from all evil and choose good. A time is coming and may already be upon us when He will remove His light from the golden circle and we shall walk in darkness. His veil of protection will be removed, His curtain sheltering humanity from the pervasive evil that seeks to reign will be no more. All things unholy shall plague creation."

Without understanding why, my hands began to tremble and I could feel tears forming, but I refused to let them spill over―I had no reason to be crying in that moment. The priest made me feel extremely uncomfortable with his intense gaze and disconcerting rant. His sermon of utmost importance was that we needed to make good decisions or else God would punish us all with evil? And why was he staring as if his message were intended solely for me?

Looking around at the other parishioners, I was stunned to discover that most of them were oblivious to the absurdities coming from the priest. Cell phones or small children distracted most, but some seemed to be on a mental hiatus. I couldn't take anymore; I had to flee from the house of insanity before I became caught up in the madness.

Father Flynn was still spouting some nonsense about good and evil when I stood to exit the pew. As soon as I did, he fell silent. The entire church was so quiet that the only sound I heard was my own breathing as I darted down the aisle and out the wooden doors without so much as a backward glance.

*

Once I reached the safety of the fresh air and sunlight, I breathed a sigh of relief, allowing my heart to settle back into my chest. Scanning my surroundings, I spotted a man standing by a tree a few yards away. I immediately thought of Julian because I had spoken to him of my plans to attend mass that morning. His back was facing me, but his haircut and confident stance resembled Julian, though the clothes were all wrong. As I approached him, I saw that he wore khaki shorts, a navy blue polo shirt with a sweater tied around his neck, and some brown topsiders―none of which were a typical part of Julian’s ensemble.

Continuing on my way, I couldn’t help but stare as the man turned around to face me. His eyes were glazed over in a familiar way that made me want to run in the opposite direction, and yet my feet were suddenly frozen, leaving me unable to take another step. He closed the space between us slowly and methodically and was standing so close when he finally stopped moving that I could feel his warm breath on my face.