The Minister Takes a Break

I switched off the lamp and gathered her into my arms. She reached down to stroke me again, but I took her hand and brought it to my lips for a kiss.

"Not yet," I whispered. "I want to explore you first."

"I want you," she replied. "Now."

I grinned, sliding one hand onto her belly. "Too bad. I haven't done this in a long time, and I want to savor everything that happens. So let me, OK?"

She sighed.

"OK. I'm just not used to that."

I kissed the side of her neck and felt a little ripple of response from her stomach muscles. My eyes were adjusting to the low light, and her body, with its hills and valleys, looked marvelous, a landscape of temptations and delights.

"What are you used to?"

She snorted lightly. "Something much faster."

"Fast can be fun, but I'm not in the mood for that tonight. I want to take lots of time with you. I want to cherish you."

She smiled suddenly and kissed my forehead.

"You're full of surprises, Andy. I've never met anyone quite like you."

"A man likes to hear that at times like this," and I dropped my lips to her collarbone and slid my hand up from her firm belly to a soft breast, and I can't quite remember what happened next, only that I enjoyed it thoroughly.

There's a moment -- or there should be -- during foreplay when you realize your partner trusts you to see her safely to where she wants to go. When she feels sure you would never hurt her. When I saw that confidence in her moonlit face, I guided her hand back down my body and lay back so Sarah could explore me. At first, I closed my eyes to concentrate on the sensations she was creating with her fingers and hands, lips and tongue, but eventually opened them so I could watch her work her magic. Stroking her silky hair, I could even smell our mutual desire. I hadn't thought I could become more aroused, but I did.

"I want you," I said urgently, tugging at her hip. "Now."

The rectangle of light from the window framed her silhouette as she sat up, and the tastes of sweetness and desire once more passed between us as she kissed me. And then her slippery heat pressed down on me and surrounded me and my world became sarahsarahsarah and I couldn't help but cry out at the beauty and the pleasure of it all.

And it was good.

Very, very good.

Sarah

I woke up later than usual, morning light streaming in as I stretched and assessed Andy's bedroom in the daylight. Boring brown wooden furniture and an equally dull navy duvet anchored a treasure trove of bright and colorful prints all over his walls. I grinned. So cheerful! Lots of people are afraid of color, but we use it to stimulate or relax our patients, depending on the environment. I was glad to see it didn't scare Andy.

I felt the echo of last night's loving as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and headed for the bathroom. I could smell bacon and something with cinnamon baking as Andy sang a song I didn't recognize. I had no idea he sang, and he sounded great! Andy had a lot of layers, and I looked forward to peeling them back, one by one.

I wrapped up in some sweats I found in his closet and headed to the kitchen. He smiled when he saw me.

"Morning, sleepyhead! How are you today?"

"Very good, thanks."

"It's nice to see you smile, princess."

"Hard not to when a prince has given me exactly what I needed -- and made a delicious breakfast on top of it all! What's baking?"

"Oatmeal muffins with diced apples."

"They smell yummy! I had no idea you could bake -- or sing! Yet you seem to do both really well."

"You haven't actually tried the muffins yet. They may be awful. I've never made them with the apples before, but I enjoy a spot of experimental cooking now and then."

"I'm sure they'll taste great. They sure smell fantastic."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, sweet princess."

He bowed theatrically, making those little circles in the air with the bacon tongs, and I had to laugh. Nice guys were definitely underrated. Now that I had tried one, I doubted I would ever give him up.

"Does my princess need a cup of coffee or tea to wake up properly?"

I shook my head. "Just water for me."

"No caffeine? You're a very unusual lady."

"I'm disgustingly healthy."

He handed me a glass of water and smiled.

"Nothing disgusting about you, Sarah. I think you're pretty wonderful."

The oven timer dinged, breaking the mood. He grabbed a mitt and hauled out a pan of gorgeous brown muffins with perfect peaks. My mouth watered. Setting the pan on the cooling rack on the counter, he returned his attention to the bacon, which looked done to me. He must have felt the same way, as he plucked each slice from the sizzling fat and put it on a paper towel to drain.

"There's fruit in the fridge if you want it. Honeydew and some grapes, I think."

"I love grapes! Do they need rinsing?"

"Nah, I always do that when I get them home. That way, I don't have to think when I'm hungry."

"You're my kind of guy, Andy."

He looked pleased.

"I'm glad. You're definitely my kind of woman. I love your drive and sweetness, and your analytical mind. You think differently from me, and I like that a lot. It spackles up some of the holes in my own thought processes."

"No one has ever called me spackle."

He grinned.

"I meant it in the best possible way! Plus, that body. You work so hard to stay fit and healthy, and it shows. There's not an inch of you I don't want to caress and kiss over and over and over, for the next several decades."

My stomach fluttered.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying it's very easy to imagine a future with you, and I hope you feel the same way."

I nodded.

"Me too."

"But it's too early to make concrete plans, I think. We still have a lot to learn about each other."

"Like what?"

"Like a lot of things. How we are with money. Where our emotional landmines are. What family baggage we bring to a relationship. You know. Little things."

"You sound like a marriage counselor."

He laughed and buttered a hot muffin, feeding me the top half. I bit down and moaned with pleasure.

"It's my inner social worker. Plus, I have seen a number of friends get divorced over exactly those things. When I marry, Princess Sarah, it'll be for keeps. And that means I will spend as much time as it takes to figure out, and mitigate, all the obstacles that could come between us."

I felt warm, deep inside, and it wasn't just the delicious muffins.

His phone beeped with a text.

"Damn! Work issue. But we have time to finish breakfast."

"I had hoped we could spend the day together," I said.

"Me too. But duty calls. How about dinner tonight?"

"Sure! Why don't you come over, and I'll cook."

He smirked.

"Do you even know how to cook?"

I threw my napkin at him.

"Be over at 6 and I'll show you what's cooking!"

We finished eating, washed the dishes, and reluctantly headed back to the bedroom to get dressed rather than have more fun and games. He walked me to my car, and kissed me, gently but thoroughly. Even in the cold wind, his lips seemed to burn mine.

"I can't wait for tonight, princess. And remember -- we can always order pizza!"

I laughed and we went our separate ways, each wishing we could have stayed together.

Andy

I spent much of the day at the two hospitals most of my congregants go to. An older member had fractured a hip and needed me at Regional, then Stella's daughter called from Mercy and asked if I could come there -- her mother seemed to be sinking fast. I did my best to be completely present with the patients and their families, but my heart was with Sarah. John had been right; lying to her was the stupidest idea I'd ever had. I wished I had told her that I loved her, but I felt I couldn't until she knew everything.

With all the driving around, I barely had time to get home for a quick shower and change my clothes before heading to Sarah's.

En route, I received a text.

"Dinner fail. Plz stop by Mantoni's for pizza I just ordered. Under my name, already paid. Brownies in oven, not on fire yet, yay!"

I smiled, feeling my spirits lift. The pizza filled my car with sausage-scented steam and I laughed again as I turned on the defroster.

Her apartment smelled like both smoke and brownies, and my poor brain didn't know how to react to the very different stimuli. I placed the pizza on the table and felt her arms slip around me and her lips search for mine. I knew exactly how to react to that, and I did, with gusto.

We talked about her day when we finally ate our pizza -- she had spent it with her friend Julie and Julie's girlfriend, Alissa, riding horses and then getting pedicures. Her description of the horse scent vying with the chemical fumes made me laugh some more. I was glad to have the chance to re-center myself after my day, and she didn't seem to notice I chattered less than usual.

After ragging her about the burnt dinner, I made sure to compliment the brownies, which were unexpectedly delicious. She beamed like a child at Christmas and I smiled fondly back. I leaned over and collected a gooey, chocolatey kiss, which led to her climbing on my lap once again. I hugged her tight, enjoying the sense of fun she brought to the evening.

Later, as she washed the dishes and handed them to me to dry, she said, "Well, maybe I should have a look at this church you like so much. Why don't I go with you tomorrow?"

I nearly dropped the glass in my hand. I set it carefully on the counter.

"I thought you hated churches?"

She shrugged and gave a half-smile. "It's true I don't trust organized religion. I think most ministers are really crooks. But you really seem devoted to the church you go to, and if someone like you can be so into it, maybe I should try it. One should have an open mind, after all."

I thought hard, but no likely solutions bubbled up. I sighed. The moment of truth had arrived. I just couldn't lie anymore.

"I would love for you to join me, but there's one thing you need to know first. Well, several things, but one main thing."

She let the plate in her hand slide back into the soapy water and turned to face me.

"What?" she said.

"Um," I said, feeling less and less able to face this conversation. "Well. Well, um. This isn't easy to say, but I have a confession to make."

"What?" she said again.

I carefully put the glass in the dish rack. "The truth is, I've been keeping something from you."

"What?" and this time, her tone had cooled noticeably.

"It's pretty big, and I feel absolutely terrible about not telling you this before."

"What?" and now she sounded like a meat inspector about to condemn a side of beef.

"I'm not just a parishioner at my church. I'm ... the minister."

"What?"

I took a deep breath.

"I'm the minister."

She stared at me, and her resemblance to an annoyed meat inspector deepened.

"So, let me recap," she said, her voice hard. "We met three months ago, and became lovers last night. I have shared intimate things with you, things I have never told another soul. I trusted you. I thought at last, I might have found a man who might love me and who I could love without any of the usual games. And during all this, you have represented yourself as a computer tech."

"Um, yes. You are absolutely right."

She turned to me, and the look in her eyes made me take a step backwards.

"I know you're upset," I began.

"Upset does not begin to cover it, Andy. I am furious. I'm hurt. I feel betrayed. I feel stupid. I want you gone."

"Please let me explain..."

"What is there to explain? You lied to me, over and over. You knew how I felt. You knew. And yet you kept doing it! What are you, one of those crazy fundamentalists who dates heathens in hopes of converting them?"

"No," I said, feeling my own temper rising to match hers. "I am not crazy. I am not a fundamentalist. I am just a guy who found a woman he liked and wanted to find out what it would be like to be a normal man for once. Just a regular person whose job didn't push every frightened, needy, and/or demented button my date might have. You know, a regular human being like everyone else, not some ... some ... symbol for everyone to nail her emotional baggage to. Just a regular guy with a regular job and a regular life. That's all I wanted."

By now, we were facing each other, almost toe to toe, both our faces red as we shouted.

"And the only way you could achieve that was by weaving an entire tapestry of lies?"

"I thought so, yes. When you told me you hated religion and everything it stood for, yes, I decided to lie. Because I thought that was the only way I could have you. I'd have said anything to make you mine."

"You're an idiot. You're a fucking liar. Get the hell out of my house right now."

"Please. Try to see my side of this."

"I'm not interested in seeing anything but your body walking out that door. Get out."

Blinking back sudden tears, I grabbed my coat.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. And ... I think I love you too."

She stood there, stone faced, then turned back to the dishes.

"You're not the only liar here. I could never love you. Go away."

I went.

Back at home, I cried, then raged, then cried again. Desperate, I even tried prayer. But no Spirit came to comfort me no matter how much I begged.

Sarah

After the door closed behind, I grabbed his glass and threw it at the floor. It shattered. I knew exactly how it felt.

Andy

The call from Mercy General came at four a.m. Stella Gibson. I was awake, turning over in my mind all the things I should have said, should have done, with Sarah. When I heard Marcy's voice, tight with stress, I told her to hold on, I'd be there in 20 minutes. I got there in 15, running down the semi-dark hall to the familiar room. A nurse was just leaving. She put her hand on my arm and whispered, "Soon."

I took a deep breath to compose myself and walked in. I hugged Marcy and took her hand.

"Please pray with me, Reverend."

Marcy sat down, her face crumpling with grief. I pulled a chair up beside hers and placed my hand over her own. I could feel her shaking, so I started with something familiar: "Our Father, who art in heaven..."

By "Thy kingdom come," she had joined me. From the corner of my eye, I saw her relax into the prayer, and I wrapped my fingers a little more tightly around hers as I continued after her "amen."

"Lord, we know that you are here with us now, even as your servant Stella moves closer to your kingdom and further from ours. She and I have prayed together so often, Lord, that I know you will welcome your beautiful child with open arms when her time does come. We ask now only that you do what is best for Stella, and that you help us bear the pain of being left behind."

Stella's daughter nodded slightly, approving. I decided to quit while I was ahead.

"We ask this in the name of Christ our Savior. Amen."

"Amen," she echoed, and turned to me. "Thank you, Reverend. I know you have given her so much comfort these last few months. The whole family appreciates what you've done for her."

"She's repaid any favors I may have done her," I said, gently disengaging my hand so I could give Stella's shoulder a light caress. "Your mother is quite a character."

Stella moaned softly, and we both jumped.

"She must have heard you," her daughter said, amused despite her tears.

"Oh, yes. She knows exactly how much I love her, and you love her, and everyone loves her. Your family has done a wonderful job of supporting and loving her these last few weeks."

She sighed and dabbed at one eye with a tissue.

"We've tried not to leave anything unsaid. That's the big thing in life, isn't it? Saying what you need to say?"

I flinched slightly. "Absolutely. That's the biggest thing of all."

Marcy moved to the far side of the bed, taking her mother's other hand, then reaching for mine. Stella's skin felt cool and papery and her lips looked blue in the dim light. Her chest barely moved.

"Would you sing a little for her? She loves your voice. I think it would give her comfort. And ... me too."

I blinked back tears, swallowed and opened my mouth.

"Amazing grace..."

Halfway through the third verse, Stella went still. My voice shaking, I finished the verse as Marcy softly wept. Then my tears joined hers, mourning the lovely lady who had a heart full of love for us all.

Sarah

I woke up feeling like crap. My eyes were raw with crying half the night and my chest felt like that horse I'd ridden yesterday had danced a jig on it. I dragged myself out of bed, not knowing whether to rage or cry. Maybe I would buy a plane ticket for Australia so I could start my life over half a world away. Surely they needed good PTs there.

I trudged to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water and sat at the table, considering. I had spent a lot of the night thinking about what had happened, replaying the past three months in my head, looking for all the signs that I had missed that Andy was just like all the other liars who had broken my heart over the years. The thing was, I couldn't think of any.

In the end, I heard him shouting about how he would have told me anything just to have me. And I heard every snarky remark I ever made to him about organized religion and how could anyone believe in God, given the terrible things that happened in this world. I hung my head. He should not have lied, and I didn't know if I could forgive that -- but I could kind of see why he did.

I sighed and fired up my phone's internet service. It was Sunday morning, and somewhere in the metro area, the Rev. Andrew Simmons would be preaching. I meant to be there.

Andy

I showed up at church almost late, glad to pull a robe over my wrinkled clothes and thus cover up one issue. Unfortunately, no vestments could cover my bloodshot eyes or broken heart, but one had to work with what one had.

Naturally, the first person I ran into was Connie Atkins, perennial pest. I sighed, empathizing with Job on a whole new level. To my surprise, she called over a man looking at our framed mission statement -- the last refuge of the desperate visitor -- and placed a proud hand on his arm.

"Andy, this is my boyfriend, Joe Wainwright. Joe, this is our pastor, Andy Simmons."

She looked at me as if expecting me to conjure a rabbit from my vestments. Instead, I held out a hand to Joe, psyching myself up to sound sincere.

"Pleased to meet you, Joe. Welcome to St. Paul's. We're glad you're here."

"Andy, you look terrible," Connie broke in. "Like you stayed up all night. Are you OK?"

"Stella Gibson." I shook my head.

She put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh no! I meant to visit her today!"

"We'll announce it. You might call Marcy and see if she needs anything, though."

"Absolutely."

I nodded toward the sanctuary.

"Gotta go. But very nice to meet you, Joe. Again, we're glad you're here."

The worship leader took the congregation through the opening rituals, announcements and first two hymns, then handed the service to me. As I stood at the pulpit, I regarded the congregation through bleary eyes, barely seeing them. I couldn't pretend anymore, nor did I want to.

"Friends, we're going to do things a little differently today and change up the order of the service. I hope you'll forgive me, but I am absolutely worn out after losing two women I loved in the last 12 hours. One is a lady we all know and love, Miss Stella Gibson."

Even though everyone already knew -- word had spread like oil from a ruptured tanker -- I gave them a second for it to register. Hearing it from me made it official.