Chapter Thirty-six
“Come in!”
“Good morning, Father. How was your trip?” Sister Ellen Marie had entered the office and allowed the door to close slowly on its own behind her. She walked farther into the room.
“My sister’s wedding was lovely. She was the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen. I enjoyed spending time with my family. I hadn’t seen some of my relatives in years.”
“Well, you were certainly missed around here.”
“I assume Father Schmidt and Father Rivera kept everything afloat in my absence.”
“They did. Father Schmidt’s noonday homily was quite inspiring.”
“Great. Is there anything we need to discuss, Sister?”
“Yes, sir, there is. Don’t forget about the luncheon this coming Wednesday.”
“Luncheon? What luncheon?” Father Gregory honestly had no idea what the nun was talking about.
“The group of aspiring priests from the Boston College School of Theology will be stopping by the church Wednesday morning for a tour and fellowship. It was your idea for them to have lunch with you and the other priests at the parsonage. In fact, you requested that Mrs. Ellison prepare rosemary chicken, kale greens, and wild rice. I reminded her yesterday before noonday mass.”
After the trip to Chicago and his unexpected troubles with Royce fresh on his brain, Father Gregory wondered how he had managed to rise early, dress, and make it to the church without falling apart. There was no way he could’ve remembered the luncheon. His life was in shambles. He hadn’t slept very much the night before, worrying about his relationship with Royce, if they still had a relationship. Father Gregory truly loved her, and although their relationship was a forbidden one, he had fully devoted his heart to her. But Royce wanted more. She wanted his soul, but it belonged to God. He’d made a vow that he simply could not break.
“Father, are you all right, sir?” Sister Ellen Marie walked closer to his desk. “You seem troubled, distant, as if you’re someplace far away.”
Father Gregory rubbed both hands over his face. Exhausted and upset, he attempted to sound normal. “I’m tired from the trip. That’s all. I’ll leave here early today and go home to rest.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll leave you to your work now.”
Alone and surrounded by quietness, Father Gregory still was unable to concentrate on his sermon or any of the memos in his inbox. Royce’s sad face damp with tears at the airport was all he could think about. He had never meant to hurt her.
Life was so unfair. She certainly deserved a commitment from him, and he was worthy of a wife. If Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Episcopal, and other Christian ministers were allowed to marry and father children, why couldn’t he? Non-Christian holy men like Imams of the Islamic faith, Hindu pujaris, and some Buddhist monks, depending on the sect, were permitted to wed as well. Were these men of faith any less committed to their gods than he was just because they had wives and children? Father Gregory thought not. If he could marry Royce, he believed he would be better able to serve the church. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d be much happier, and his needs, both emotional and physical, would be thoroughly met. But the rule had been made over 2,000 years ago, and he and every other Roman Catholic priest were bound by it.
Father Gregory looked at the phone on his desk as if willing it to ring. “Call me, Royce. Just pick up the phone, darling, and call me.”
* * *
Tyler walked into the dark den and flipped the light switch on. He dropped his backpack on the recliner. “Seriously? You’re not going to work again today, Auntie?”
“I’m still recovering from my trip, sweet pea.”
“But it’s Wednesday. You’ve had two and a half days to rest. And what’s up with all the ice cream? I know you like pralines and cream and all, but too much of that stuff will make you sick.” Tyler laughed. “I should know.”
“It makes me feel better,” Royce mumbled. “After this carton, I won’t eat any more. I promise.”
“I better get to the bus stop. Old man Sanders will leave me if I’m not there at ten minutes ’til seven sharp. I’m so happy this is my last week of school. I’ll see you later.”
“Have a good day, sweetie.”
Royce got up, turned off the light, and plopped back down on the sofa. She preferred the darkness because it matched her state of mind. Her favorite ice cream was her medicine, although it wasn’t working so well. She wanted to talk to Father Gregory, but she didn’t really need to right now.
The few days they’d been out of contact had given her lots of time to search her heart and come to grips with some important facts. Zora was right. She had been deluding herself. She and Father Gregory had no future together. He did love her, though. Royce felt it every time he entered her, joining their two bodies together as one. No one, not even Zora, could convince her otherwise.
And it wasn’t just the way he made love to her. Royce felt Father Gregory’s love whenever he sat quietly and listened to her talk for hours about her businesses. He comforted her whenever she was sick and often surprised her with special gifts just because. The time he spent with Tyler was priceless, and it was all because of his love for her. Above all, Father Gregory had sacrificed his soul, sinning against God and the Catholic Church every day just to be a part of Royce’s life. But it still wasn’t enough. No matter how much of himself he gave to her, she wasn’t satisfied.
The telephone rang. More than likely it was Tabatha calling with an early morning report. Royce lifted the phone from its cradle. “Hello?”
“What’s up, cuz? I just hung up with Tabatha. Why aren’t you at work? Are you sick?”
“I’m under the weather today, Andra. How are you?”
“Were you under the weather yesterday and the day before too? For a woman who just returned from a trip to Chicago with her secret lover, you sound horrible.”
Royce’s back stiffened. “What are you talking about? Who said I went to Chicago with a man?”
“I’m not stupid,” Andra said, snickering like she’d just heard a good joke. “I know you’re seeing someone, cuz. Why are keeping him under the covers? I want to meet him.”
“It’s complicated and . . . and . . .” Royce started sobbing. “My life is so screwed up, Andra. I feel like I’m about to lose my damn mind.”
“I’m coming over.”
“What about the midday news?”
Andra smacked her lips. “Girl, that’s why I have an assistant producer. I trained Dreyfus well. He can handle it. I’m on my way. Do you need me to bring anything? Maybe a bottle of wine?”
“Can you bring me a carton of pralines and cream ice cream?”
“I’ll bring you two.”
* * *
“That was a mighty fine meal, Mrs. Ellison. And the peach cobbler was the best I’ve ever tasted. Thank you.”
The older woman smiled and continued gathering empty plates from the table. “It was my pleasure, Father Gregory.”
“We certainly enjoyed it. We don’t get good Southern cooking like this in Boston,” one of the young future priests said.
“We sure don’t,” another one confirmed.
The other young men nodded in agreement. Father Gregory and his housemates smiled. They were blessed to have Mrs. Ellison as their cook. But Father Gregory preferred Royce’s cooking.
“I would like for all of you to see our garden,” Father Rivera told the young men. “It’s in the back of the house. We have rows and rows of all kinds of vegetables. There’re rosebushes, too, on the other side. Come with me.”
Father Rivera stood and left the room with Father Schmidt and seven of the eight theology students following him. The other young man remained seated at the table with Father Gregory.
“Father, can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure,” he said, folding his hands on the tabletop.
The young man looked around the dining room nervously. “It’s a very private matter, sir.”
“I understand. Let’s go to the study. No one will disturb us there.”
Father Gregory led the aspiring priest to the spacious study and closed the door. He took a seat behind the antique cherry-wood desk. “What is your name?”
The young man sat in the vacant chair facing the desk. “I’m Darius.”
“How may I help you, Darius?”
“How old were you when you received the call from God to become a priest?”
“I was quite young actually. Seven years old to be exact.”
Darius’s bright green eyes widened with shock. It amused Father Gregory.
“I was fifteen. Since that day, I’ve been preparing for a life in the priesthood. I truly believed it was my calling to serve God and humanity through the Catholic Church.”
“Are you having doubts now, Darius?”
He nodded and lowered his eyes to the floor. “Yes, Father, I am.”
“Tell me why.”
“I met a wonderful young lady. Her name is Millicent. I literally ran into her at the bookstore on campus. At first, we were just friends, but then we started hanging out and having fun. Then one day I woke up and realized that I’d rather be with her more than anyone else in the world. She makes me laugh, and she understands my quirkiness. We just click.”
“Have you been intimate with her?”
“Oh, no, Father,” Darius said, shaking his head. “We haven’t done that. We kiss a lot, though.” He lowered his eyes again. “And I’ve thought about making love to her. Sometimes I want to desperately.”
“I’m happy you’ve remained pure, because once you cross that line, your life will change forever.” No one knows that better than I do, he confessed inwardly. “If you love Millicent and you want to spend the rest of your life with her, now is the time to walk away from theology school and chart a new path. Do not make the vow of celibacy or make any other commitments to God or the church if you’re having second thoughts about becoming a priest. This is a very difficult life to live. Don’t enter into it if you aren’t certain, because once you make the vow, God will expect you to keep it for life. Pray about it and search your heart. I’m sure you’ll do what is right.”
“Thank you, Father. I will.”