Communion (On My Knees Duet 3)

I get up and pace around my office, feeling numb except the hard pound of my heart as I stop at the window, watching a man in a blue uniform steer a cart filled with pallets of soft drinks toward one of the church doors.

I can’t stay here.

Why’d I think this could work?

The phone rings again—this time, it’s my office line—and I step over to the desk again. I can’t bring myself to sit down, so I answer standing.

“Luke, this is Paul Marshall.” I grit my teeth again, stepping over to the couch with the cordless phone.

“Hi, Paul.”

“Wellington and I just wanted to check up on you. See how things are going. I know maybe it’s not appropriate, seeing as how we only just attended that one men’s seminar, but—”

“No. You’re just fine, Paul,” I say as my shoulders deflate. “I remember you two.”

I can hear him smiling as he says, “You do?”

“Of course.” It comes out drolly.

“I guess that makes sense.” He sounds thoughtful. “Anyway, I had you on my mind last night and Wells said I should give you a call. Figured you might be getting other calls today, too.”

“Oh, yes.” I rub my forehead.

“We wanted to be sure you know how much your presence in your…post means to the rest of us.”

To gay men. “We have lesbian friends who attend Evermore as well,” he says. “In our circles, there’s been rejoicing. We feel…seen. And that’s not your job, that’s not your responsibility, of course. It’s just a happy side-effect. But we’re behind you, one hundred and ten percent. Anything you need, consider us your feet-washers.” He chuckles, and I cover my face with my hand.

“In the Jesus way,” he tacks on quickly.

“What other way is there?” I’m being dry, trying to put him at ease, but the ensuing small silence lets me know I’ve missed the mark.

“No other way,” he says, and I laugh.

“Paul. It was a joke.”

“Right. I know.” He tries to laugh, and I lie on my back on the couch.

“Thanks for calling.” I blink at the ceiling. “It’s appreciated. Truly.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe we could…I don’t know. Do you go out with church members?”

“Of course I do, at times.”

“Well, if you ever find a time, just let us know. We’d love to do dinner. We could host you. Both of you. Only if you have time.”

I shut my eyes, thinking of Paul and his partner Wells, plus Vance and me, around a table. Something shifts in my chest, making my neck and face warm.

“We’ll have to take you up on that sometime.”

“Just let me know.”

I can tell he’s nervous.

“I will. Thank you, Paul. You two take care of yourselves.”

He tells me they will, and then the call is over. I have maybe two minutes of down time—time in which I think of Vance downstairs. I think of biting his warm neck, of how I’d love to bend him over and—

The phone rings again. I blow a breath out before I answer.

“Pastor, it’s Ansley. I’m with Casey Blevins and Frank Piedmont, and we’re down in the lobby. They were wondering— Well, the three of us were hoping we could come up and discuss something, briefly. Just a few…nuances. All theological, not personal or anything. It shouldn’t take long. Maybe half an hour most.”

So, that means forty-five or fifty minutes. And what the does ‘not personal’ mean?

“Sure.” I push myself up. “I’ll be waiting.”

I fire off a quick text to Vance, refusing to let myself read the texts he’s sent already this morning. If I do, I know I’ll feel like crap.

Pearl is going to bring your lunch down. I had a meeting come up unexpectedly. The time slot after this is an international call, but I’ll check in right after that. I’ll be down.

I send another quick text. Love you, Rayne babe.

His text comes so quickly that I know he must have been watching his phone. Love you more, Sky. I’ll be waiting.

He sends me a heart, drawn on his phone with that fingertip drawing feature I can never figure out.

I send a bunch of hearts back. Before I can slip the thing into my pocket, there’s a knock at my door.

Vance

My phone says it’s 4:30. I'm trying not to feel too disappointed, but I haven't seen or heard from Sky at all today, except the one time near lunch when he texted.

It's okay. I knew it would be crazy. I can take it.

Doesn't mean he's checked out. He's just busy.

So am I. I'm working on a new commission—Mars in the forefront, with the other planets fanning out around it and the larger ball of the sun to the rear left. This one's been a bitch to work out the dimensions, but I did it, and I'm happy with the prelims. Going to come out pretty damn cool.