His heart thrummed in his chest like an enraged hummingbird as he walked back to the pew. Feeling eyes on his back, he glanced over his shoulder and caught Cantrell’s eyes from across the nave. Illias’ breath caught in his throat. Those steel blue eyes were filled with an unmistakable hunger. Just like they were last night. Heat gathered in Illias’ stomach. He looked away, casting his eyes down as he awkwardly sidestepped in front of the pew.Don’t get your hopes up. He sat.He’s repressed, not interested.
Daring another glance at Cantrell, Illias saw the priest’s attention was elsewhere. Focused on seamlessly transitioning from communion to the end of Mass. Cantrell gave the after-communion prayer before stepping aside to allow the other priest to give the final blessing.
Illias tried to focus on the final blessing, but his attention drifted back to Cantrell. Hoping he would catch Cantrell’s eye again. Not once did he lift his eyes from the velvet carpet. Feeling like a teen with a crush, Illias tore his eyes away from the priest once dismissal was finished and stood.
“Hon.” His mom grabbed his wrist. “Before you head out, I want to introduce you to the new priest. He started shortly after you stopped coming.”
He forced a tight-lipped smile that he knew she saw through. “Lead the way.”
Together, they walked towards the sanctuary where Cantrell remained after dismissal. Surrounded by lingering congregation members and adorned in his church sanctioned vestments, he looked like a proper priest. However, in the bright light of the church, Illias could see the dark rings beneath Cantrell’s eyes and the age lines in his face that were hidden in the dingylighting of Nirvana’s. Seeing Cantrell standing at the sanctuary in his holy clothes stirred something devilish in Illias.
“Father Cantrell!” his mom beamed.
“Lauren,” Cantrell greeted her warmly. “How’s Henry doing?”
“He’s doing well, still battling some nasty reflux.” She took a small sidestep so that Illias was in full view. “I wanted to introduce you to my son, Illias.”
Cantrell looked past her at Illias and offered a polite nod of acknowledgement. His eyes darted down Illias’ body and back up. “It’s nice to meet you. Lauren has spoken very highly of you.”
Illias’ stomach churned but he forced himself to match Cantrell’s indifference. “Nice to meet you as well, Father.”
Illias’ mom placed a hand on his arm, smiling ear to ear. “He’s finally decided to start coming back to church.”
“That’s wonderful.” Cantrell’s smile was stiff and uneasy. “I’m assuming that I’ll be seeing you around more often then?”
Illias couldn’t help but eye the priest like he was The Last Supper. Dragging his eyes down Cantrell’s body, imagining what might be beneath all the layers he wore. Illias met Cantrell’s eyes again. “Every Sunday.”
Cantrell cleared his throat, shifted his weight. “Good. It’s important that one hears the word of God on a routine basis.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Henry appeared next to Illias’ mom. “Sorry to cut in, Father, but we’ve got plans to meet with friends and if we want to get there in time, we need to head out.”
Cantrell gave a small nod. “Of course, have a blessed day and may God be with you.”
Illias watched his mom and Henry walk down the aisle towards the exit, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. He turned back to Cantrell. “Will you be providing next Sunday’s sermon?”
Cantrell clasped his hands in front of him. “I will.”
“What will the topic be?” Illias’ lip twitched upward. “Resisting temptation?”
Cantrell’s entire face flushed red. “Perhaps.”
“I look forward to seeing you—I mean, hearing,” Illias winked, “your sermon, Father.”
Somehow, Cantrell turned even redder and sputtered out a polite excuse then walked away. No longer having a reason to linger, Illias left the church with only one pressing question. Does Cantrell flush like that in bed too?
Chapter Three
Cantrell
“For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted.”
- Hebrews 2:18 KJV
Tuesdays were empty at the church. Filled with menial tasks and waiting for someone to need guidance or seeking the rite of confession. Cantrell watched in mild amusement as Rier paced the nave, complaining about no one seeking Christ the way they should. After a few minutes of ranting, he declared he was retiring early to get some rest. Cantrell let out a sigh of relief, thankful that he did not have to endure more incessant moaning.
Sitting in the silence that filled the nave, Cantrell listened to his own heartbeat. The slow, rhythmic beat was almost enough to put him to sleep after a late night. To avoid dozing off, Cantrell retrieved the Saint Anthony’s binder from his office and broughtit down. He would have stayed on the upper level, but he needed to be in the nave in case someone came by.
He settled into a pew then moved his glasses to the top of his head so he could read. He flipped through the pages until he got to the list of repairs that needed to be done. The HVAC system at Saint Anthony’s was top priority with summer right around the corner. If the budget for the shelter wasn’t so tight, he would use those funds to fix it instead of submitting a repair request to the bishop. However, there was only so much he could do with what was provided. He often dipped into his own meager income to provide necessities when the budget couldn't cover additional expenditures.
