The Confessions(6)

“Why do they do this to us?”

“Good reasons? They can send us anywhere without having to move whole families. We can get closer to people because there’s no wife or children at home to get jealous of how much time we’re spending with the sick or the scared. Bad reasons? The Church wants to control its clergy. Control the cock, control the man. We fall in love, get married, have children…suddenly we have something in our lives more important than the Church.”

“So much for being fruitful and multiplying.”

“You want to have children with her?”

“She’s the freest spirit I’ve ever encountered. I would never burden her with a child. She is a child and always will be. Child-like, not childish.”

“That’s not an answer to my question. You told me about her, not about you. Do you want to have children with her?”

“I have the standard male biological urge to father a child. Considering who and what my father is, who and what I am…”

“You would make a wonderful father.”

“I am a Father. That is enough for me.”

“And that girl you love is God’s child. Don’t ever forget that. She was His before she was yours, and she’ll be His during and after.”

“I won’t forget.”

They walked in silence for a time, past a hundred graves or more. Someday Ballard would be in a grave and all that would be left of him on this Earth would be the memory shared by those who knew him. Miriam…he’d leave her with too few memories. A thousand whispers. A hundred embraces. A dozen nervous phone calls. And not one single night together in his bed. He should have spent at least one night with her. It was all she’d asked. He’d made love to her a thousand times in his mind, taken her endlessly in his heart. Why hadn’t he had the courage to let his body go through with it? One night and he couldn’t give her that. He could have given her a good memory to cherish. Instead he’d only given them both a void in the shape of one night with the woman he loved.

“Tell me what she’s like,” Ballard said. “Convince me she’s worth you risking your entire vocation over.”

“What do you want to know? Height? Short. Hair color? Black.”

“What do you see in her?”

“She…she makes me laugh. I feel human with her. I don’t feel human very often, but I do with her.”

“You are human.”

“If I wasn’t sure I was human before, I am now. She makes me weak.”

“That’s why they call this sacrament ‘reconciliation.’ Yes, God and sinner are reconciled. But more than that, man is reconciled with himself. We are the most ourselves when giving our confession. ‘God have mercy on me a sinner.’ ”

“God have mercy on me a sinner,” Marcus said. “And God have mercy on me because I cannot repent of loving her.”

“Is she in love with you?”

“I have every reason to believe she is. Although she hasn’t said the words and neither have I.”

“Do you believe a 16-year-old has any idea what love is?”

“We’re Catholic priests, Stuart. We believe a 14-year-old girl gave birth to the Son of God. We believe God was incarnate as that infant child. And we believe children as young as seven can partake of Communion as they’ve reached the age of reason.”

“Nice speech. Now answer my question.”

Marcus sighed heavily. “Kingsley was 16 when he fell in love with me. He’s still in love with me eleven years later. If a 16-year-old can’t love, how do you explain that?”

“How do you know he’s still in love with you? Last time we talked you hadn’t seen him in months. And even then he was unconscious in a hospital bed.”

“I’ve seen him. I didn’t want to. No—that’s a lie. I didn’t want to want to see him. I was avoiding it although I knew where he lived. But I had to see him.”

“That must have hard for you.”

“It was agony.”

“Why did you do it?”

“I needed his help. We’re…friends? Working on that.”

“And now? Is it still agony?”

“Still and always.”

“Because you’re still in love with him.” It wasn’t a question.

Marcus nodded.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re not only in love with this girl, but you’re still in love with Kingsley who is now back in your life? Anything else?”

“Nothing else. For now.”

“This is going to be a long confession.”

“It was your decision to go for the walk. In August. While wearing a cassock.”

“I make poor decisions sometimes,” Ballard said.

“You agreed to be my confessor eleven years ago.”

“And that was my first mistake.”

Marcus had the decency to at least attempt to look apologetic. He didn’t quite succeed but the effort was appreciated.

“I dreamed of her,” Marcus said as they walked under a stone arch and into a shadier, cooler part of the cemetery. “Years ago, Kingsley and I were—”

“I don’t want to hear the end of that sentence.”