A Bad Habit - Taking The Leap

Over an hour and a half later, it begins to snow and still, there is no sign of him. He better have a good reason for forgetting about me, I think as I hail a taxi. After giving the driver the address of the church, I settle into the warmth of the cab as we begin the twenty-five-minute drive to Waukesha from the airport all the while I am getting madder and madder.

Rogue priest or not, I am going to give Father O’Riley a piece of my mind as soon as I see him.

Chapter Two

Father Jacob O’Riley

I have been a priest for two years now, but this is the first time I have been really in charge of anything. I have a bit of a reputation as being an above the law priest. A rouge who does things his own way and it has worked for me. The opening of a church in Waukesha, Wisconsin was never high on my list of priorities, but I go where I am needed, and this parish had no church. Now that the church, Saint Francis of Paola, is built, I am ready to begin services, starting this Sunday at eleven. Currently, I am walking the pews dropping Bibles and hymnals into the pockets on the backs of the seats in front of them. I have hired all of my supporting staff, who start tomorrow and am awaiting my secretary being sent from a convent in Pennsylvania.

Looking at my watch, I see I still have a little over an hour before I need to retrieve the woman from the airport just as the sanctuary doors burst open. A slip of a girl dressed as a nun walks in carrying a small suitcase. Not for one second do I think this is the old woman who is supposed to be my secretary. At least, I assumed she’d be an old woman. She’s entirely too beautiful to be a nun and looks absolutely nothing like the nuns who used to rap my knuckles with a ruler. If they did, I might have paid more attention in class.

“Darling, Halloween isn’t for at least eight more months,” I say without thinking.

“Excuse me? Halloween?” she seethes.

“Are you not dressed up as a nun as though this is Halloween?” I ask, getting bored with this, I have too much work to do deal with this.

“There must be some kind of mistake…” she starts.

“Are you here for confession then? That is Saturday at four, but I could make an exception,” I tell the girl. I wonder if she works at the gentleman’s club down the street and this is some kind of confession emergency or something.

“I am Sister Mary Elizabeth. I am here to work. Am I in the right place?” she asks. Suddenly, realization dawns on me that this really is my secretary. Her beautiful face looks haunted right now.

“Goodness. I am Father Jacob.”

“You were supposed to pick me up,” she says accusingly.

“You weren’t supposed to be here for another hour,” I tell her. Why can’t I stop staring at her? I grew up in the worst parts of Belfast, went to Catholic primary school and a public university before I joined the seminary and ultimately the Church, which is what led me here to the States. I have been around women before. I don’t know why this one woman, one completely covered from head to toe, is intriguing me so much, but she is, and I don’t know what to think about that. I shouldn’t have immediate thoughts of fornicating with her on the altar, but I do. To do so would be forbidden, wrong, taboo. Those words should deter me, but it, in fact, makes me want it more.

“My flight didn’t change, Father. You left me out there in the cold, alone, in a strange city. Now, if you please, where do I put my things? I am freezing,” she says, making me take notice that she just has her habit on and that she is shivering.

“Where’s your coat, lass? It’s negative ten degrees outside,” I say making the mistake of walking over to her and rubbing her arms. I tell myself that it’s just for warmth, but the second my fingers touch her slight frame I know that I am fucked. Beyond fucked.

“I forgot to grab it, Father.”

“You’ve got no sense, do you?”

“My name is Beth or Sister. I am not a little girl, so please don’t talk to me like that,” she says indignantly.

“Alright, Beth. You win,” I say holding my arms up in defeat, chuckling.

“So, my room?” she asks again, getting impatient.

“It’s in the rectory,” I tell her.

“W-with you,” she asks hesitantly letting me know that she is just as affected by me as I am by her. If only it were that easy.

“Not exactly. You will have your own space, Beth.”