Page 5 of Forgive Me Father
Finding Zoey in the crowd, she gives me an "I told you so” look.
People around me begin clapping and sobbing in shock. A few even leave the room dramatically to hide their intense emotions after hearing the news.
Who the hell would want to take over-
"Father Briar," Father Kevin motions to the back of the room, my body going rigid as Roman pushes away from the wall and confidently makes his way to the front of the altar.
Zoey’s jaw drops as she takes in the sight of Roman, her eyes wide with awe. It’s clear that his striking looks have left her and the other women in the pews breathless. As he shakes hands with Father Kevin, the women’s attention is riveted on him, their gazes lingering with undisguised hunger. Meanwhile, their husbands sit seething with barely contained frustration, their hands clenched tightly in a mix of jealousy and anger as they watch their wives’ obvious fascination with him. "This is FatherBriar," Father Kevin smiles. "He’s just finished his duties at a previous church and is thrilled to step into my shoes-"
"Is he not a little young for the role, Father Kevin?" My father questions, nudging my mother, whose eyes are glued to Roman.
Father Kevin’s eyes sparkle with pride as he introduces the new priest. “Father Briar has shown extraordinary promise from a young age,” He begins, his voice tinged with admiration. “His brilliance in seminary was matched only by his unwavering faith and dedication. He overcame significant personal trials, including the loss of his family at a young age, which deepened his compassion and resolve. Despite his youth, he has already demonstrated a profound understanding of God’s will and a rare gift for guiding others. His journey has been one of remarkable resilience and divine purpose, and he is uniquely prepared to lead this congregation with wisdom beyond his years."
In this light, Roman looks much more approachable than he did in the confession room, feeding the audience his warm smile and soft, welcoming eyes.
Taking the mic from Father Kevin, he clears his throat, the low rumble of his voice making my stomach somersault.
"Thank you, Father," Roman smiles, taking in a deep breath. "I know what you all must be thinking right now. Who the hell is this kid standing up here?" Audible gasps slip out from some of the more traditional congregation members at the crude language.
Feeling a smile creep along my lips, I force the expression back down, eyeing the gold band wrapped around his finger.
So, it’s not a woman he’s devoted to, but rather God.
"I know I have big shoes to fill following in Father Kevin’s footsteps, and I cannot hope to match the legacy he has built. However, I promise to lead this congregation with unwavering faith and dedication. I am committed to getting to know each of you personally and guiding you with sincerity and compassion. Together, we will seek to follow God’s path and strengthen our faith.” His eyes linger on mine as he surveys the room.
Feeling as if the last part was a personal attack, I react without thinking, holding up my middle finger in the center of my chest.
Seeing a smirk spread across his lips moments after the gesture, I quickly lower my hand, feeling more exposed under his gaze than I have all evening, despite the lingering stares I've faced throughout the service. Lowering my head, I stare at my feet, keeping my focus far away from Father Briar and his aggravating, cocky attitude.
"With that," Father Kevin interjects, "I suppose it's time to begin Communion."
Our family is one of the last to funnel our way to the altar. Trailing behind Aiden, I step on his heels every chance I get. Biting back the need to scream at me out of frustration, he continues to follow our father dutifully without saying a word. Meanwhile, I watch as the congregation passes baskets around, the church persistently collecting donations as if it were still in need despite the apparent wealth displayed all around us.
Stepping on his heel so hard he nearly loses his shoe, Aiden finally turns around, raising his fist. I point my finger to the large cross hanging above the altar.
"What would Christ say?" I question, forcing a sympathetic tone.
"That you should have been aborted," He hisses, his insult doing nothing to pierce my hollow insides. When it’s finally our turn to receive Communion, Aiden quickly puts on a kind smile as our parents take their places before the altar servers holding the chalice. My brother steps up to Father Kevin, who gently places a piece of bread on his tongue. I move to the one empty spot, intentionally avoiding the chalice due to my complex relationship with alcohol. When I stand before the altar server, I open my mouth to receive the Eucharist, only to be startled when a hand, commanding and impressive, with long, strong fingers that taper to firm, square tips, unexpectedly grasps the shoulder of the young altar server beside him.
"I'll take over." Roman smiles, grabbing the metal bowl filled with bread. He moves to stand in front of me, and I’m only slightly aware that I might be gaping up at him.
"Not one for the blood?" He questions, my mouth snapping shut.
Saying nothing, I don't feed into his teasing remark. At that, I’m ready to reject all of Christ's sacrifices. At this point, it feels like I'm already damned.
As I begin to step down from the altar, a sudden, unexpected pressure on my bottom lip makes me freeze. His hand finds my face, his thumb slipping between my lips with a commanding touch. He gently but firmly drags my lower jaw downward,forcing my mouth open. As he maintains a steady pressure on my jaw, his gaze lowers, studying me intently. I stare back at him, my eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. "Stick out your tongue," He demands. My family is too focused on receiving Communion to realize what's happening.
Hesitantly, I do as he says. Roman places the bread on my tongue, his thumb slightly tugging on my lower lip before his hand slowly moves away. A dizzy haze creeps over my senses, pressure coiling between my thighs at the gesture.
"The body of Christ," Roman whispers, my mouth quickly closing.
"Amen," I say instinctively, still shocked by the feel of his finger on my lip.
"Good girl. See, you can submit. Try to remember that the next time you feel inclined to open that pretty mouth out of anger," He whispers, his lowered eyes quickly lightening the moment my mother approaches him.
Backing away, I touch the parts of my face he’d touched, unsettled by how easily he was able to get me to do what he wanted.
Unable to shake my nerves, I take a deep breath, making the executive decision to leave the building and spend the rest of Mass overthinking in my car.
