The morning after Epiphany, and so many times since, he’d “firmly resolved to avoid the proximate occasions of sin”…
“Might you reconsider?”
“It is the wisest course.” He withdrew from her and sat up. She followed him, her petticoats rustling. His arms and legs ached to enfold her again. His hands actually twitched. He fisted them in determination. “I suppose Hélène explained why she gave you the blue lamp.”
“Yes.” Tessa’s smile was brighter now. “Did she give you the garden key?”
“She tried. I left it in her wardrobe.” Gazing at Tessa was dangerous, so he stared at his fists instead.
“I wishIcould come to you. I wish there were a better place…”
Where? At the Bishop’s residence, in the shadow of the cathedral? Here, where hismothermight see? Joseph shuddered at the thought of Tessa flitting unprotected through the dark streets.
“We needn’t do anything more than this, Joseph.” She took one of his hands, uncurled his fingers, and laced hers between them. “Edward stays at the plantation for two or three days at a time; I could put out the blue lamp during the day, and you could visit in the morning or afternoon…”
Was that really what he wanted: afternoon teas with her, half an hour in the parlor or garden—when one of her slaves might interrupt them at any moment? He wantedthis: a time and place where they might be truly alone, where they might belong only to each other, when they might speak without censure and embrace without fear of discovery. But such a refuge would always be tenuous. Even if they never unfastened a single button, anyone who caught themtogether would assume they were committing adultery. Josephwould becommitting it, in his heart. “I need…”
“I needyou, even if you don’t need me.”
“I need time.” It was not entirely a lie. Tomorrow was Ash Wednesday. He kept staring at their joined hands. Whateverthismight become, Joseph knew one thing for certain: he could not begin it during Lent. “Give me until Easter?”
He felt Tessa’s hand tremble in his—whether from disappointment or anticipation, he couldn’t say. “If ’tis safe before then, I’ll still light our blue lamp, so you’ll know what to look for. ’Tis a double-burner Argand lamp. It will be on the second floor, in the right-most window.”
Behind the house, from the direction of the slave quarters, a baby began to cry. When Tessa drew in a sharp breath and turned toward the sound, he realized it must be her daughter.
“Clare is another reason I cannot come to you.” Tessa smiled an apology. “So the decision must be yours.” She squeezed his hand and left him.
He curled up on the bed again, basking in her warmth as long as he could.
CHAPTER 49
Rev. James Wallace…moved to Lexington District, within a few miles of the city, and devoted his declining years to meditation and prayer…
— Father J. J. O’Connell,Catholicity in the Carolinas and Georgia(1879)
Joseph held the aspersorium while Father Baker blessed the ashes with holy water. His pastor dipped his thumb into the damp black dust to make a cross on his own forehead, and then on Joseph’s. Finally, they offered this symbol of Penance to each of their parishioners. Over and over, they admonished: “Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.”
They echoed God’s words to Adam after his Fall. The ashes were supposed to remind them all to repent before it was too late. For a Christian who died in a state of grace, death was not something to fear. On the contrary, saints like Teresa of Ávila longed for death, because it meant they would finally be united with their divine Beloved. But Joseph could not help but think of his sister, alone in her tomb—or his brother-in-law, alone in their bed.
The ashes had stained Joseph’s fingers black and worked theirway beneath his nails long before Tessa approached the altar. Her eyes flitted up to his for only a moment. But a moment was all it took. Just as the crucifix was veiled for Lent, Christ vanished from Joseph’s mind.
As he felt that black cross on his forehead, as he placed that symbol of death upon Tessa’s soft flesh and he recited those ominous words, Joseph longed for another kind of union—while he and Tessa still had breath in their bodies. Eight weeks ago, he’d almost lost her to childbirth. A few days from now, on his journey to Columbia, Prince might stumble and throw him; Joseph might break his neck before he ever knew the taste of her skin. Thanks to his father’s carnal catechism (imprinted in his mind as surely as Priesthood was imprinted in his soul), Joseph knew there were ways he could make Tessa “unspeakably happy” without hurting her.
Every one of which was a mortal sin. As a Penance, he tried to reread the “Meditation upon Death” fromThe Imitation of Christ. “In every deed and thought, order thyself as if thou wert to die this day,” counselled Thomas à Kempis. “When it is morning, reflect that thou may not see evening…” Before her surgery, Hélène had said nearly the same thing, but she’d argued for an entirely different purpose—not that Joseph should prepare his soul to meet God, but that he should seize Tessa while he could. “Now the time is most precious,” agreed Kempis. “While thou hast time, lay up for thyself undying riches.”
The only riches Joseph cared about were the gold rings in Tessa’s eyes, the ruby curtains of her lips, the pearls of her teeth, the ivory of her throat…
He was writing another chapter of the Canticles, apparently. At least he hadn’t compared her hair to a flock of goats.
A noble benefactress in Europehad sent their diocese two monstrances. Even without the Real Presence inside them, these vessels were dazzling: rays of gold radiating from a center inlaid with jewels. Their benefactress wished one monstrance to remain in the cathedral and the other to grace St. Peter’s Church inColumbia, since it was dedicated to her late husband’s patron saint. Father Baker had decided not to entrust such an important delivery to the postal service.
Besides, the Priest who made the journey could visit the Catholic families between Charleston and Columbia, families who enjoyed the consolation of the Sacraments only a few times a year. Joseph had volunteered because he had Prince. He also saw it as a trial: how might he and his horse adapt to permanent mission work?
Prince seemed eager to stretch his legs in earnest. With the monstrance wrapped up securely, they travelled through Colleton District, south of the railroad. Joseph spent each night and morning with the scattered members of his flock, baptizing infants, hearing Confessions, and celebrating Mass. He even blessed a Marriage. Work only a Priest could do.
Yet every moment in-between, Joseph prayed—and dreamt—about Tessa. Might not God grant him this solace? If Joseph was gentle, might not Tessa grant him more than a clothed embrace?
Fortunately, Joseph had brought alongDignity and Duties of the Priestby Alphonsus Liguori. The saint devoted whole chapters to “The Sin of Incontinence, or The Necessity of Purity in the Priest.” He reminded Joseph: “the unchaste priest not only brings himself to perdition, but he also causes the damnation of many others.” He confirmed the wisdom of Joseph’s first instinct when he’d learned Tessa loved him: to flee at once from his occasion of sin. “In this warfare cowards, they that avoid dangerous occasions, gain the victory.”
