AN EMPIRE OF BROKEN HEARTS
AN ANTHOLOGY FOR CHARITY
Various Authors
Dare Empire eMedia
Smashwords Edition
AN EMPIRE OF BROKEN HEARTS
Copyright © 2011 by Dare Empire eMedia Productions
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published in Australia
Dare Empire eMedia Productions
ISBN: 978-0-9871750-3-8
Cover Art © 2011 Dare Empire eMedia Productions
Contents
SHARON LEA FORD
G.B HOBSON
GEOFFREY KNIGHT
SAVANNAH CHASE
JUSTIN JAMES
CASCADES IN THE MIST
SHARON LEA FORD
PROLOGUE
We’ve all had our hearts broken from time to time, and as the world spins from day to day, it’s guaranteed that many hearts are being broken right now as I tell my story. With time, all things heal, they say, but in my case, I can honestly say that’s not true. I’ve lived with a broken heart most of my life and still, it hasn’t mended.
The vigorous torment we endure to be able to bare our hearts being ripped out of our chests, shredded up into little pieces and left bruised and battered. It makes me wonder why we allow it to happen that way.
One thing is for certain; our hearts don’t forget. We may be able to push the bad memories back into the archive of our minds, but all the while, our heart’s tearing just a little; just enough to remind us that we’re only human.
And this is where my story begins.
CHAPTER ONE
In the clear, vast skies and theatrical landscapes rests a small outback property, set in the valleys of Central, Western NSW, where the pioneers of days gone by had settled during the Gold Rush. Now, only a glint of the brave men and women’s ghosts flicker in the passing breeze.
“Bag-of-bones” we call it—a dust bowl during the hot summer months and a bitter frosty abyss during winter. For as far as the eye can see, the sculptured landscapes are the color of the rainbow—golden grass, blue gums and the toxic purple of Patterson’s Curse, that reach far into the vibrant blue skies.
One rainy morning, during a mid-February summer, the pitter patter of rain fell gently on the tin roof of our modest homestead. As I lay there in bed, ready for the waking day, I thought to myself: What sweet relief from the sweltering heat we’ve had to put up with for the last few weeks. And Gran…she hasn’t been coping well at all. Now that she was in her late seventies with a bad heart, my brother Ricky and I wondered if she’d make it through another year of the extreme, Australian weather.
Life here on our grandparents’ farm has been tough on us all. Our parents died suddenly, five years ago, in a head-on collision on the way home from a trip into town. Some drunken idiot tried to overtake a car on a bend in a rush to get home and veered straight into mum and dad’s car, killing them instantly. My brother was fifteen at the time and I was two years younger.
Now that I’m eighteen, I’d love to travel the world and meet different kinds of people— other than the plain folks that my gran knows. But no! I’m stuck here, instead, having to get up at the crack of dawn, feed the animals and sweep the poop from the cow shed. Yeah, it would be nice to see the world.
Since Pop died last year and Gran is getting too old to do any chores, both Ricky and I feel obligated to stay; after all, they’ve been looking after us all this time and… it’s not that bad, I suppose, living with Gran.
Ricky has been staying away from the farm more and more these days. He gets his work done early, heads into town to hang out with the boys and drink at the pub until late, then gets up and does it all over again. I do miss him so!
Gran has been talking about putting on some extra help around the farm to take some of the work load off us kids, and I’m definitelyall for that. I’ve been waiting and hoping for a while now that she’d hire a young and handsome Jackaroo with blond hair, blue eyes and a body that a girl could only dream of. That reminds me, I must tell Gran about the broken gate in the north paddock. I must try to convince her that Ricky and I can’t do everything around here, and that another man to help out would be God sent.
CHAPTER TWO
I jumped up out of bed, pulled the bed covers up and chucked the throw pillows back onto the bed, carelessly.
I wandered across the hall and into the bathroom with a yawn and not a care in the world. Slowly, I brushed my long, brown hair and tied it up into a ponytail, brushed my teeth and gave my clear, but tanned, face a quick wash.
Living on a farm and working in the harsh, Australian sun, doesn’t give a girl the luxury of looking like a fine porcelain doll. And even though Gran says that I’ll be a good catch someday and make someone a fine wife, it doesn’t really give me the confidence of being a great beauty. I know with a little makeup and some fine clothes I could scrub up okay, but what would be the point anyway? It’s not like anyone’s going to see me.
I gave my reflection one last glance. My torn jeans, scruffy t-shirt and sad, green eyes gazed back. Well, this just won’t do! I must talk Gran into getting some help, or I’m going to go mad, I’m sure of it. I may even leave before my youth leaves me for good. Then there will be no possibility of meeting the young Jackaroo who appears in my dreams at night.
Leisurely, I stepped out into the kitchen where Gran was cooking some scones and cakes.
The smell filled my senses with awe and I was slowly transported to a quaint little café tucked away somewhere in France. The waitress wore a clean, white apron over her perfectly fitted dress and spoke the romantic language of French to one of her male customers, who noticed me standing there staring.
He gazed up at me with poise and whispered, “Hi,” with an Aussie accent. “Hello…anyone there?” he repeated.
I blinked and, suddenly, I was back in Gran’s kitchen.
She glared at me intensely, “Jasmine, you’re being rude!”
I blinked again and the male customer was standing in the kitchen in front of me, tall with blue eyes, olive skin and the most scrumptious lips I’ve ever seen on a man.
“This is Jake. He’ll be helping out for a while. Can you show him to the back spare room, please?” my Grandmother asked.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even speak. I felt like a five-year-old in a candy store with a purse full of money.
The large cowboy hat, which sat just on top of his ears, consumed most of his head and I couldn’t tell what color his hair was. His fair eyebrows framed his gorgeous, glistening eyes, which were the shade of the golden shimmers that dance across the lake. And I knew he’d discovered me staring at him when the corner of his mouth lifted to what looked like a mischievous smile, as if to say: You are so busted, girl!
“That’s okay. I’ll find my own way. Just down the hall, then?” he said. The handsome Jackaroo stole a glance at me as he lifted his backpack over his broad shoulders.
“Um… sorry, follow me.” I said coyly, stepping past him to go through the doorway.
“You’ll have to excuse my granddaughter, we don’t get a lot of visitors out here,” my Gran yelled, then chuckled.
“Gran—” I snapped. Embarrassed, I led the cowboy down the hall. I opened the large timber door to my parents’ old room and stepped inside. With an awkward stride, I strolled over to the window, unlocked it and opened the old timber frame. The clouds rolled past the grassy meadows as I watched from the window, which displayed a view past the surrounding veranda. The smell from the recent rain brushed past my face. Hmm…nice. I thought.
“You must love it here?” the cowboy asked.
I spun my head around and observed as he placed his backpack on the queen-sized spring bed. I imagined myself laying there with the handsome man standing before me. My cheeks suddenly filled with heat and I just knew the Jackaroo must have noticed my face turning rose red, when he asked, “You okay? You look a little flushed.”
Oh my God. I was so embarrassed. I tried to move my legs, which now felt like jelly and my feet were firmly planted in the carpeted floor. “Oh… no, I’m fine. It’s just the warm weather, you know.”
I started for the door the same time as Jake and we ultimately ran into each other.
He clutched my arm to prevent us from colliding any further but, unfortunately, it was too late and my breasts pounced into his hard chest, sending my heart into a frenzy.
I could smell the scent of his cologne mixed with that sweet, male smell. His warm breath fell through his lips as he opened them slowly to speak, but nothing was said.
He moved his hands around toward my back and brushed the sides of my arms ever so tenderly and, for a second, I sensed something transpire between us.
“I’m so… sorry,” I announced and stepped back out of his embrace. Without another word, I smiled and retreated, leaving him standing there alone.
CHAPTER THREE
After I fed the chickens and collected the freshly-laid eggs, I headed back into the house, where I placed the basket in the fridge and grabbed a cold glass of water.
My thoughts went back to the cowboy, where I imagined us together, lying in the grassy field, alone. The warm, spring flowers filled the air with their perfume and the golden warmth of the sun beat down on us.
My first encounter with a man—and a mature man, at that! Jake would have to be in his mid-twenties or even close to thirty, at least, and it would be so wrong for us to even consider a relationship given the difference in our ages. But God, it would be so nice to feel his firm body against mine. To touch the forbidden area that only married couples could.
Living an innocent youth on this farm certainly had restricted me from the outside world, leaving my naive thoughts to ramble in panic and desire.
My thoughts were miles away when I felt a soft touch on my shoulder. I spun around quickly to find Jake standing behind me. He stood close. I could see the slight creases around his neck where the dust and heat had remained from his working outside.
“Sorry,” I proclaimed and realized I apologized way too much when he was around.
As I attempted to step around him, I detected his glare, which looked a lot like lust. He grabbed a hold of my arm and tugged me back.
My breast brushed up against him, making my heart skip a beat, and at that point, I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Do I run? Or do I just stand here and let him do whatever he wants to me?
Before I could make any sense of my thoughts, he leaned down and kissed me. Not a kiss like dad or Ricky would give me, but a firm and passionate kiss.
I followed his lead and kissed him back with an untamed urge. My tongue slipped inside, meeting, then waltzing with his.
I felt his warm hand slide under my shirt and he pulled me in tighter against him. His muscular body pressed hard and uncomfortably against my stomach, causing my thoughts to spin like a whirlwind.
Finally, I came to my senses and pulled away from him. “This is wrong. Gran could catch us at any moment.”
I could see the disappointment mixed with realization in his eyes. “Of course,” he responded with an unsteady tone.
Regrettably, I stepped away and proceeded back outside to finish my chores for the day. My head was fuzzy and my heart still beat madly. I didn’t look back; I didn’t dare.
CHAPTER FOUR
The days dragged on and the weeks even longer. Not a minute went by when I didn’t think of Jake. That first kiss he stole from me in the kitchen. The cute way his mouth curled up when he smiled. And the hardness of his body when he squeezed me so tight. Was I ever going to feel what it was like? Other than watching the animals doing it when the females were on heat, I really had no clue about the act of intimacy.
Gran would say to me all the time: When you leave here, stay away from the boys until you’re married. That’s what good girls do. You don’t want to catch any dreadful diseases or get pregnant, do you, Jasmine? She’d say. No, Gran, not me. I’d always reply. Even though I was home schooled, I wasn’t stupid — just a little naïve.
* * *
Autumn was upon us and the days were a little cooler. The green foliage on the trees had turned colorful hues of yellow, orange and brown. White Cockatoos squawked as they flew past.
I was going for a ride to visit my most favorite place of all—the Ghost gum tree that’s nestled in the bottom paddock. It stands graciously among the long, golden grass, waving in the gentle, cool breeze. Its old branches span across the earth like arms reaching to be embraced by Mother Nature. It’s my favorite place of all because it’s where mum and dad were laid to rest. Time after time, year after year, I visit their grave, just to let them know what’s going on in the world, and also to let them know how much I miss them both. Even though my conversations go unanswered, I know they can still hear me.
Blaze, my trusty horse, stopped to feed as I reached the large tree. I dismounted and found a nice, soft, comfy spot to lie down and ponder.
As I stared into the cosmic, blue sky, watching the white, fluffy clouds roll across in the distance, who stepped into my view but Jake. He didn’t even utter a word, just stood tall staring back at me with that cute smile I’d grown to love.
“Hey,” I muttered.
“Hey, sweetheart. What are you up to?” he finally said.
“Nothing… just thinking,” I stated, and sat up to greet him.
Jake sat down beside me and sprawled himself out on the grass, pulling me down with him. “Stay there, I’ll join you.”
“Jake!”
“Shush… not a word,” he whispered and pressed his fingers to my lips. “It’s okay. I just want to lay here with you.”
My heart was screaming out for him. My lips yearned for his kiss. My arms longed for his embrace. Struggling not to give away my secret desires for the man I’d fallen deeply in love with, I stared into his bright, blue eyes. He must have seen straight through my façade, because he took my chin into his hand and pulled me to his lips. The passion that soared through my veins made it all the more difficult to pull away from him.
“Please…not yet.” It took every ounce of my strength to reject him, even though I wanted him so badly.
“It’s okay, we’ll take it slow. Meet me here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, until you’re ready. We have all the time in the world. I’m not going anywhere. As long as you’re here, I’ll be here.” Jake gradually got to his feet, tilted his hat in my direction and strolled away.
I didn’t say a word to him as he mounted his horse and trotted away that day.
We did meet the next day, and the next day, and the day after that. For weeks we met by the old Ghost gum and just kissed. And back at the homestead, we snuck in a few sultry glances and a few brushes of innocent touches.
Weeks went by, months went by and I lost the fortitude to hold off any further. I knew it was time, and that time was right now.
CHAPTER FIVE
An unforgiving storm developed vastly in the night sky and thunder was heard echoing across the valley.
It wasn’t a good night to be caught out in this kind of weather, but Gran had to rush into town to retrieve Ricky from the cop shop. He’d managed to get into a bar brawl with some “out-of-towners”.
I waved from the veranda as I watched Gran disappear down the dirt road and into the old, faithful Ute.
When I went back inside, Jake was standing by the old, wooden stove, which we still used on occasion, but mainly in the winter.
We glanced at one another and instantly knew what the other was thinking. “We’ve got about an hour, two tops,” Jake stated, with a suggestive look.
Before I had time to contemplate the idea, he gently but sternly grabbed my arm, spun me around and shoved me toward the hallway door.
Alone at last, cripes! We’re finally going to do it, I thought, as we shuffled swiftly down the hall toward his bedroom.
“For so long now, I’ve yearned for this,” he said with a look of determination in his eyes.
I was silent, not really sure what to say. I knew that I felt the same way, and in my heart, I knew I was in love with him. If only I could say the words. Would it change things between us? Would it scare him off? Or does he love me, too? My mind raced with confusion and then, I heard the words.
“I love you, baby.” he whispered.
I felt the corners of my mouth ache as I grinned from ear to ear. “I love…you, too.” And there it was. Nothing could have been more perfect at that moment. Even though I was only eighteen, I knew we were meant to be together.
Jake closed the bedroom door behind us and stood before me. He pulled his t-shirt off over his head and dropped it to the floor. I bit my bottom lip in anticipation as I gazed at the tight muscles over his abs and the toned ripples that ran across his hairless chest. Just the sight of him sent heat waves throughout my body and down between my legs. I blushed knowing that those huge, muscular arms would be holding me tightly in their grasp and against the body that I’d been yearning for for so long.
He urged me toward the bed, then slowly began to undress me.
Uncertain of what to do, I let him take the lead. A virgin I was, and soon I’d be a woman. I wanted him to take my body and show me what love was all about. With his maturity and worldly travels, I knew I had to put my trust in his hands.
The rain grew heavier and pelted against the roof; it was music to my ears and in total synch with my beating heart. At last, Jake slipped my panties off and let them fall to the floor.
The cool breeze rushed through the open window and brushed my bare skin. His soft touch caressed me, sending tingles over my entire body. He took his time, feeling every part of me, letting me know he cared and that he would be gentle since it was my first time.
What a truly wonderful man, I thought. My heart and body were his for the taking.
He gently laid me down on the bed and covered my body with his.
This has to be heaven. It’s not that bad.
Our bodies wrapped together as one, fulfilled in every way. After a few moments, he sat up and stole a glance at me before gazing out the window at the dark, stormy night.
Time stood still at that moment for the both of us. It was uncertain what the future had in store. One thing was certain, however; he loved me and I loved him and nothing was going to stand in the way of our happiness.
CHAPTER SIX
Time flew by and during the next few months, Jake and I met at our favorite meeting place. We made love in the long, golden grass in front of the open, wide skies. We were passionately in love and devoted to each other. So far, we’d waited patiently to find a way to spring the news of our relationship to Gran. After all, Jake was a worker and we weren’t sure how Gran would take our announcement.
My nineteenth birthday fell on a bitterly cold winter’s day. Gran drove into town early to collect some supplies and, I imagined, a gift.
Ricky helped Jake decorate the living room with streamers and balloons for my birthday bash, which we were having later on in the evening.
I nervously paced the kitchen floor and glanced out the window, waiting for Gran to get back so Jake and I could give her the news. But as I watched the hour hand on the old kitchen wall clock turn past five in the afternoon, I began to get extremely worried.
When the phone rang, suddenly, and it was Sergeant Peterson on the other end, I knew something dreadful had happened before he even said anything.
My heart drops to the floor when Sergeant Peterson informs me that while Gran was driving home, she’d had a heart attack and passed away.
I couldn’t believe it. Everything seemed so surreal at that moment and I could hardly breathe. The pain in my chest was a reminder of how I felt when mum and dad died. The memories flooded back, crashing against my scull, as I collapse to the hard timber floor. I thought it just couldn’t be possible for my heart to take it any further.
The shock finally hit home, when Jake pulled me up off the floor and wrapped his strong arms around me. His comforting embrace didn’t stop the tears from flowing, but it was nice to know I had his love and strength to help during this difficult time.
EPILOGUE
We never did get to tell Gran our news, and that was lucky, I guess. If she’d known sooner, we probably would have sent her into an even earlier grave, with her bad heart and all.
Ricky never did get over mum and dad’s death, and now with Gran gone, he decided to leave and see the world
Jake and I ran the homestead on our own for some years. We eventually got married and had a beautiful baby girl, whom we named Grace—after my mother.
Life was grand and I never thought that things could get any better. Jake was a loving husband and a wonderful father. And every now and then, we’d still go out by the old Ghost gum, lay in the long, golden grass and make love with the world passing by—just like we had when we first fell in love.
But life likes to throw us a challenge from time to time—and I can say that I definitely have had my fair share of challenges.
In the spring, three years after having Grace, my life took a tragic turn for the worst and, yet again, my heart had to endure the pain of losing someone dear to it.
Jake was helping one of our closest neighbors pull his tractor out of a billabong. It had gotten stuck after a downpour, and things turned from bad to worse when Jake’s leg got trapped underneath the tractor and it suddenly toppled over. Jake's leg was crushed under its massive weight and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t release him. Then when it began to pelt down rain again, it soon became apparent that it was going to be a struggle for Jake to survive and keep his head above the rising waters. After hours in the dying sunlight with no way to escape, Jake finally gave up the will to fight.
He drowned in the depths of the murky waters of the billabong while I was unaware of his pain and suffering. Our neighbor, whose tractor was finally pulled out of the muddy banks some weeks later, spoke of that day at Jake’s funeral. He said Jake had made him promise that he was to tell me, word for word, how much Jake loved me and no matter what, even the wrath of God wouldn’t have been able to tear him away from his sweet, sweet girl.
When Jake was buried deep in the earth next to mum and dad by the old Ghost gum, they buried my heart along with him.
* * *
Years have gone by and I still live on the farm. Jackaroos have come and gone, worked for a while, then moved on. Some have even tried to steal my heart, but little did they know that I’d already given it away to Jake.
My dreams of traveling the world flew out the window the day I met Jake. Even going to town, a short distance away from my love, is hard to bear.
I know my thoughts of him will gradually fade over the years, but my broken heart still ‘til this day remembers my one, first, true love…Jake.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SHARON LEA FORD
In Sharon Lea Ford’s spellbinding first book, “The Pages of Lost Time”, she challenges us to reflect on our lives and ponder our ideas of reality and imagination. Ford’s gripping story of different places and diverse times, of childhood vulnerabilities and chilling imaginings, will enthral you to the core. She writes a thrilling story that young fantasy fans will gobble up in one reading. With vivid imagination, she weaves reality and fantasy brilliantly, capturing the innocence of youth when faced with enormous challenges.
“When the day comes”, is her second book and somewhat different to the first; A paranormal romance/Erotica that any avid romance reader will get lost in. Fords imagination will take you into the depths of her characters thoughts and leave you wanting more.
Sharon lives with her husband, youngest son and two cats on the South Gold Coast of Australia. When she’s not writing, you’ll find her reading or cooking up a storm with a glass of wine or two.
FALLEN ANGEL
G.B HOBSON
PART ONE
There were comings and goings all day at St Michael’s. The following day was an important event in the life of the parish: Harvest Festival combined with Confirmations, made special by all the churches within the newly-formed Glenton, Longdale, Penningly and Bradmire Team Ministry, taking part.
Early evening, Glenton ladies were chatting to the local parishioners as they watered the sweet-smelling flowers and put finishing touches to the floral displays. While clearing away the mess, merry laughter sounded as they laboured with brooms and dusters. Furniture polish scented the air. The men from the two parishes joked and chuckled while sorting out the extra chairs. It was if the parishes reflected the congenial unity of their leaders.
The Reverend Paul Skinner — slender, tall, dark hair with heavy brows over smiling brown eyes — surveyed the happy scene. Surely it augured well for the future. Of course, none of them were yet aware of the homosexual relationship he shared with their Rural Dean — Canon Nicholas Palmer, Rector of Glenton and Diocesan Director of Ordinands. He sighed… would they ever be free to be open about their love for one another and, better still, to live together under one roof?
By eight in the evening, Paul had done all that was needful and left his churchwarden to lock up. In spite of the hard work, he was feeling happy and relaxed. It had been great to return to his vicarage for light meals kindly prepared by his pretty, blond secretary. But, although her light perfume still hovered in the hall, he certainly didn’t expect to find her waiting in the kitchen to make him a coffee.
‘Hello, Angela, you should have gone home by now, that young man of yours will be waiting for you. Didn’t you say he was taking you to a party?’
She put the coffee mugs on the table and sat down with him.
‘He came here for me an hour ago. He said he wanted to see his mates before the party. I told him to clear off. Anyway, I had that filing to finish. It’s all done now, but can’t say I‘m anxious to get home. Mum and Dad will be watching telly… the usual boring stuff.’
‘Don’t watch it much myself.’ He picked up his mug of coffee. As usual, it tasted just the way he liked it. ‘Well, thanks for everything; I don’t know how I’d manage without my angel.’
She smiled coyly and sipped her coffee.
He put down his empty mug. ‘I’ll drive you home. It’s the least I can do when you’ve been working here all day. I’m going out anyway… getting some fish and chips. Would you like some?’
Angela’s eyes lit up. ‘Lovely. I’ll put some plates to warm. Can we have mushy peas too?’
He hadn’t thought about bringing the fish and chips back to the vicarage to eat them with Angela. In fact, he hadn’t thought beyond buying them. On starry nights he usually ate alone out in the fresh air. But why not share the evening with Angela?
When he returned twenty minutes later, he found Angela had lit a roaring fire in his cosy sitting room. What with the heat and a tiring day, he was soon feeling sleepy. While he was eating his supper, he managed to keep up a light conversation about the coming events in the parish, but that ended with the meal. With bleary eyes, he saw Angela get up and take the tray into the kitchen, switching off the light as she left the room. She was saying something about making coffee.
Utterly relaxed, the flavour of salt and vinegar still present on his lips, he lay back on the cushions and watched flickering shadows through half-closed eyelids. His thoughts drifted to Nick… longing for his presence.
Blue eyes smiling, fair hair glinting in the firelight, Nick came up close, his full lips curling in gentle humour. His touch was light and pleasant, but somehow it seemed so unreal. Taste, scent and sounds were all wrong. He must be dreaming… yes, just dreaming.
Paul forced himself out of his stupor. He couldn’t believe what his eyes told him. Firelight was glowing on golden hair and almost naked flesh. Angela was all over him.
Horrified, he pulled away from her. ‘Get your clothes on, Angela.’
‘But why?’ She sounded hurt by the rebuff.
He stood up and adjusted his clothes. He tried not to show the anger he was feeling. ‘I know you think you’re pleasing me, but it has to stop.’
‘But you were enjoying it. It’s obvious. It isn’t hurting anyone. It isn’t sinful,’ she argued, standing up and rolling her hips seductively… a blue gem in her belly button sparkling in the firelight.
‘You’re going to marry Mark; that should be enough reason, Angela.’
‘But it’s you I love, Paul… only you,’ she murmured, moving up to him.
He held her away. ‘I’ve told you, Angela. I’m married to my vocation.’ He looked at her with compassion tearing at his heart. ‘I’m sorry, so very sorry.’
‘But I’m not asking you to marry me.’
‘Mark would be very angry. Think of him, my angel.’
‘I’m not an angel. I want you to make love to me. I’ve saved myself for you.’ She stretched her arms around his neck. ‘Only you, my darling.’
‘Oh, Angela. I really appreciate what you’re offering but it isn’t possible. Please get dressed. It’s time I took you home.’
‘I don’t want you to take me home. I want to stay here with you. I’ll let you do anything you want… anything.’
He took hold of her wrists and pushed her away from him. ‘Now stop it, Angela. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t give you what you want. Please get your clothes on.’
He pushed her on to the sofa and quickly left the room. He ran upstairs to the bathroom and locked the door, feeling completely at a loss. Girls had made passes at him before, but this was something else. Clearly it was his fault. He should have seen it coming. All the little hints and her willingness to please, should have told him that she was in love with him. Now his angel was badly hurt and there was little he could do about it.
The sound of the front door slamming informed him that Angela had left. Should he go after her and take her home? If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself. He ran downstairs, put on his coat and pocketed his keys. The phone rang just as he was about to leave. He quickly picked it up. It was Mark on his mobile asking if Angela was there.
‘She left a moment ago. I’m about to pick her up and take her home. Can’t stop. Goodnight.’ He put down the phone and hurried out. If Mark had been drinking, he didn’t want him picking Angela up.
She hadn’t walked far. He stopped his car just ahead of her and jumped out. She turned her head away and went on walking. He barred her path, trying to get her to stop before she reached the houses in the lane. Tears were glistening on her cheeks, causing pity to well up inside of him.
He held out his hands in a pleading gesture. ‘Angela, please let me take you home,’ he said with urgency. ‘Mark rang. He’s on his way to pick you up. He sounded half drunk. He shouldn’t be driving. Please get in the Discovery.’
‘No! I hate you!’ she snapped, her voice betraying the humiliation she was feeling.
She tried to dodge around him but he caught her arms. ‘Okay, you hate me. But let me take you home.’
‘Let me go or I’ll scream!‘
‘Keep your voice down, and be reasonable.’ He felt like shaking her. ‘You’re just tired. Let’s forget what’s happened. It’s my fault. I let things go too far. I didn’t realise what was happening.’
She tried to pull away. ‘I’ll scream,’ she yelled, opening her mouth in readiness.
Paul quickly put his hand across the open gap. ‘Now just stop it. You’re being hysterical.’
She tried to remove his hand but couldn’t.
‘Please, Angela, just cool it.’
Her blue eyes flashing in the light of the car’s headlamps, she lifted her free arm and made a grab for his face. He automatically backed away but she caught him with her fingernails across his jaw. Shocked, he quickly released her. She looked at him, horror distorting her pretty face.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ she said anxiously. She lifted her tear-soaked hanky towards the bleeding scratches. ‘Let me wipe it for you.’
Paul didn’t answer. He couldn’t handle her mercurial change-about. He pushed her arm away, turned around and walked to his vehicle. He pulled himself up into the driver’s seat. ‘You’re a grown woman, Angela. Choose what you want to do.’
She just stood there, looking at him defiantly. He started the engine, waited a moment, then turned the Discovery around and drove the short distance back to the vicarage.
He let himself in and wearily threw his keys onto the hall table. Walking towards the kitchen, he caught sight of himself in the hall mirror. What a mess. Blood was on his jaw, collar and shirt. He stripped off the stained clothes and put them to soak in the kitchen sink, watching the blood billow in the cold water. He put the kettle on for a coffee. While he waited for the water to boil, he sat with a cold damp kitchen towel pressed to his face, all the time thinking he should have handled the sad incident better. He should have seen it coming. Even Rita, his evangelical organist, had warned him about having the girl around him too much.
Poor little angel… falling for a gay priest!
He made his drink and walked to the sitting room to make sure the fire was safe. The heat in the room met him as he opened the door. He sat prayerfully meditating, but his mind was restless and thoughts refused to subside. So he let them flow by him, like autumn leaves drifting on a swollen stream. He couldn’t change the past; he could only ask forgiveness and rest in God.
When he opened his eyes, the fire was no more than a few glowing embers. He wearily climbed the stairs and walked to his bedroom. As he was about to close the curtains, he looked out of the window towards the church. There had been a shower and the lamp in the lane was lighting up the raindrops on the dark trees of the churchyard. It was half an hour off midnight and it would not be long before the church became a hive of activity.
He gripped the curtain to pull it across the window but then stopped. Something had caught his eye — light was coming from the windows at the east end of the church. Had a switch been left on, or had someone broken in? Thieves and vandals could do serious damage; he couldn’t just forget about it and go to bed. Groaning with annoyance, he pulled on the jumper and trousers he’d thrown over a chair and ran downstairs.
He picked up a torch and looked for his church key. It wasn’t where he kept it. A key that size could not be slipped into a trouser pocket and forgotten. Where was it? The only thing he could think of was that Angela must have it in that big shoulder bag she carried around. She might have used it earlier on and forgot to put it back.
Locking the vicarage door behind him, he hurried to the church. As he entered the porch, he heard music coming from inside. A key was in the lock. He carefully opened the door and stepped inside. What he saw and heard made him sick to the heart.
Under the spotlights, a couple were copulating on the altar. Clothes and bottles littered the chancel. Music was coming from a disc player. But what horrified Paul most of all, was that above the grunts of the dark-haired male participant, he heard Angela shouting, ‘Paul… you’re hurting me!’
‘Stop this at once!’ Paul bellowed.
The male looked up and Paul saw that it was Mark. ‘Stop this, Mark. Stop it now!’
But Mark was already withdrawing from Angela. He leapt for his trousers, leaving Angela moaning, ‘Paul, come back… don’t leave me.’
Paul ran forward to get hold of Mark, but he tripped over one of Angela’s shoes and fell heavily against a pew. Pain shot through his body. The torch rolled out of his hand and under a seat. He saw the unmistakable youthful figure of Mark running in front of the pews and down the south aisle.
‘She’s all yours!’ Mark snapped as he pulled on his trousers before leaving the building.
Angela was still crazily moaning, in rhythm with the love song coming from the disc player. Paul quickly switched off the music, leaving the girl groaning on her own. As he approached her naked body, she vomited and then rolled over towards him. He just managed to break her fall before she hit the hard sanctuary floor; a pain shot up his bruised arm as he did so.
As she lay on the floor, she gazed up at him and a little smile appeared on her vomit-smeared lips. ‘Darling, Paul, I love…’ Her glazed eyes went dreamy and her lids closed.
Paul shoved her belongings into her shoulder bag, stuffing the overspill into his pockets. Wrapping her coat around her, he threw Angela over his shoulder and carried her out of the church. With difficulty, he pulled the door closed and took out the key, intending to return later to clear up the debris and switch off the altar lights. He carried Angela to the vicarage and put her on the sitting room sofa, propping her on her side in case she threw up.
He sat looking at her. What had she and Mark been up to, that is, beside the obvious? It grieved him that Angela had been drinking heavily. Had he driven her to it? Poor girl, what a way to lose her virginity — desecrating the church altar. Mark had a lot to answer for.
Now what? If he took her home in that state, there was no telling what her belligerent father might do. Should he ring them up? And say what?
He couldn’t ring Nick. He had the bishop staying at the rectory overnight. He rang Rita, apologising for the late hour. Quickly explaining the situation, he begged her to come over and help him with Angela. She didn’t argue or fuss, just said she would get there as soon as possible. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to the kitchen to prepare coffee for them both.
The front doorbell rang. Too soon for Rita. Puzzled, Paul opened the door to be confronted by an angry Kevin Raymond.
‘Where’s Angela?’ he demanded, as he rushed inside the vicarage. ‘She’s been out since early this morning. I saw her in church this afternoon with the service sheets. She showed me that cross you gave her for her birthday. We expected her to be home when we got back. Mark was picking her up. But he bloody didn’t. I was on my way out when he drove past me like a bloody madman. So where’s my bloody daughter?’
‘Angela fell asleep on the sitting room sofa; she’s still there. She’s been working very hard. Best not to wake her,’ Paul told him calmly.
‘Not wake her? What’s she doing bloody asleep?’ Kevin yelled. Then he caught sight of Paul’s jaw. He looked at him suspiciously. ‘What’s happened to your bloody face?’