Page 25 of Possession

The ornate wooden door, carved with angelic murals, was heavy and creaked as it opened. The sound was eerily loud and seemed to echo in the small chamber between the outside door to the church and the actual door to the cathedral chapel. The soles of my shoes squeaked against the ancient slate flooring as I took the few steps needed to enter the building. The rain had quit but the sidewalk was still wet. It was an off hour for the church, so I was able to park in front, but my shoes still suffered the wrath of the large puddles along the walkway up to the massive building. I felt underdressed in my sweater and jeans and, as my hand wrapped around the large iron handle of the inner door, my heart caught in my throat. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

This door was just as heavy but made little noise, unaffected by the weather, it opened smoothly. The weight of it caused my arm to ache and, as the chapel was revealed to me, the honeyed scent of incense filled my nose. Each breath was difficult to take as my eyes searched the huge room. Pew after pew, my gaze lifted until it reached the altar. It was a massive sculpture of white marble, and just above it was a gruesome crucifix with a life-like version of Christ, blood spilling from his head, hands, feet, and side. I swallowed deeply at the mournful piece of art, and I was so transfixed by it I hadn’t noticed the man kneeling at the left side of the altar until he spoke.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

Declan’s voice was thick, as if he’d been crying, it seemed unsteady, and he kept his head down as he made the sign of the cross. He was kneeling in front of a table of candles, all lit and sparkling in the still air as if Declan’s breath brought the flames to life. He hadn’t heard me enter and he continued his penance as he began whispering again in prayer. This time, he prayed to the Virgin. He was wearing a black t-shirt and, as I inched closer, I could tell it stretched against his broad shoulders. I could see ink peeking up around the base of his neck just below his hairline. I wondered about what lay beneath the surface of the black cotton, what else he’d permanently inked into his flesh. I should have announced my presence, but as I grew closer, close enough I could smell his familiar scent of soap and citrus, my pulse thrummed so loudly I was sure it would be warning enough.

Instead, I quietly moved next to him and kneeled down onto the cushioned support. He didn’t jump, but exhaled sharply as his head lifted just enough that he’d be able to see who was bold enough to kneel next to a man in an empty church while he prayed. Maybe he’d caught my scent too and had been prepared, either way we didn’t speak. Both of our heads were bowed in respect. Respect for our loss, our love, and our God, the one thing that could possibly save us.

I licked my overly dry lips, my mouth was desiccated with nerves as I, too, began to pray. At first, I kept the comforting silence, but old habits die hard, and my words slipped easily from my lips in a beseeching whisper.

“Heavenly Father, I am wounded, and saddened. I am weak and miserable. Without thee, I am lost. I have sinned, dear Lord, and I do not deserve thy grace, but I seek it…” Tears spilled from my eyes and dripped past my moving lips. “I seek it.” I was desperate. “Heavenly Father, I seek thy forgiveness, I seek the forgiveness of thee, and of the one I love, the one I have wronged,” I mumbled the words over and over, and I didn’t even realize it, but I’d begun to gently sway back and forth.

I kept my eyes clamped shut. I let the smoky scent of the candles, the incense… Declan… fill my lungs with each insecure breath. I prayed and prayed, this time in my head, the words repeated until I felt numb, until the sensation in my legs vanished and it was only when I dropped my hands to my sides, my head still down, that I felt him. His hand was at his side too, and my fingers brushed his as I’d lowered mine. Heat billowed up my arm when he didn’t pull away. I felt his thumb trace along mine, and my heart pumped furiously and disjointedly as I wagered in my head if I should take his hand in mine. I didn’t need to make the choice and, as Declan laced his fingers through my own, I exhaled a shuddered sob.

This was what home felt like, and a blanket of peace, weighted with his touch, covered me. There were no more prayers, just a mute calm. He squeezed my hand gently and I raised my head, our eyes searching each other’s. His crystal blue irises were rimmed in red, and his cheeks were stained with earlier shed tears. His full lips parted as if he were about to speak, but instead, he raised his free hand and cupped my wet cheek. I didn’t dare close my eyes and miss a second of this. I kept them wide open as I leaned into the heat of his palm. I wanted to tell him I was sorry. He needed to know that I’d left it all behind, left the life I thought I needed to live to be saved. To save him.

I wanted to tell him I wished we would’ve kept the baby, gotten married, and lived in his tiny room with its shabby walls and brown carpet. At least it would’ve been love, at least I would’ve had the one person who always loved me for me. But, there was no reason to wish for a time that could never be, and the way he watched me now, with a tinge of terror, I had no idea where we could even begin.

He leaned in and my heart fell into my stomach. The room around me ceased to exist as the warmth of his breath played at my lips. He watched me as he slowly inched forward and, when I didn’t move, his eyes closed. He kissed me so lightly, like I was made up of the fine marble of the altar. I was eighteen again and he was slipping through my fingertips. Our lips moved together in a last dance, a last chance at remembering before his mouth dusted a whisper of promise and he pulled away. I was dazed, and the vertigo of his kiss lingered over me keeping me captive. The blue in his eyes flickered as he dropped my hand and stood.

His other hand still held my cheek as he said, “You’re poison, Paige. But, I’m tired of hating you. My father was a drunk, and I love you. It’s my affliction, and I’ll never be cured of it, never be rid of how I feel about you.” His voice was hoarse as if he was holding back his emotion.

I swallowed deeply, the pain of his words seeped from my eyes. He dropped his palm from my face and his chest heaved with each breath as he stepped away. Was there any worse punishment then seeing the damage you’d created and there wasn’t a thing you could do to change it, or make it better?

“Declan.” I breathed his name, said the word as if it had to be spoken, as if I had to utter it to prove to myself this moment had really happened.

When I stood, he shook his head and turned. I watched his strong posture fall as he continued to the front doors of the church. He’d kissed me, he’d told me he loved me, but I was his sickness, and it would be selfish of me to feed his addiction.

Selfish.

The word throbbed behind my temples, and the panic rose and squeezed my chest with each foot of distance that fell between us.Selfish.I’d given up everything for Clark. Everything for my parents. I’d given up on Declan, I’d lost faith in the love we had.Selfish. I’d sacrificed our child, so we could be together. He would never forgive me.

After everything was said and done so many years ago, I’d thought we’d be able to make it. But he’d hated me for the choice I’d made. And, in some ways, he’d been right. I’d chosen to run. I’d run to the shelter of a church that offered absolution, to my parents who offered me up like a lamb to the man who was supposed to give me back my soul. I hadn’t known Declan would come back to me a week later, a week too late. He’d despised me and I’d thought I’d given him his escape.

But, as the church door opened and Declan dissolved between the past and present, I was forced to make another choice.

And I was going to be selfish this time.

“He kissed you? In a church?” Lana’s smile was ridiculous.

“He also said I was poison, remember?” I carelessly shoved the lettuce around my plate.

“He said he loved you.” She quirked her eyebrow and popped a piece of grilled chicken in her mouth.

I nodded and the lump in my throat grew. Once I had gotten home from the church, all I’d wanted to do was to hide in my room, make a plan, figure out how I was going to try and repair the relationship I had destroyed. I wasn’t so self-assured that I didn’t realize it might be a battle I’d never win, but I had to try. Because if I didn’t, if I didn’t at least try to explain everything to him, explain why I wouldn’t see him the day he came to my house after we’d split, then he’d always think himself worthless, and I couldn’t let him believe that anymore. I’d hoped to fall into my dirty sheets and the despair of an impossible task. But Lana had made dinner, stripped my linens, and opened my blinds.

Lana poured us both a glass of red wine, and I eyed her as she sipped deeply from the glass. “Take a fucking sip, it’ll relax you.”

Lana had poured me a glass every night that we’d eaten together and I would leave it untouched. I lifted the glass to my nose and the aroma of wood, apples, and berries puckered my lips, and my mouth watered. I exhaled in defeat and took a small sip. The room temperature wine was bitter, and the urge to spit it out almost overwhelmed me.

“This is gross.” I winced as I gulped my water and Lana laughed.

“Maybe you’ll like white wine better. I’ll get some for tomorrow.” She gave me a coy grin and I shook my head.

“I work tomorrow.”

“That’s right… and you’re hoping Declan will be there?”

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