Sidelined: A Wilde Players Dirty Romance (29 page)

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#slowburn #forbiddenromance #beautiful

Reviews For A Beautiful Sin

A Beautiful Sin,
 told from dual POVs, is a beautiful life and love story. It is about 
dealing with painful pasts of abuse, guilt, and fear
 and taking control of one's life. The 
epilogue
 was my favorite, priceless! ... SueBee, 
Goodreads Reviewer
 
5 STARS! It had a unique plot through out the book... this was written in such a way that you could completely forget that you were reading, as you watch the book play out in your head and the character's personalities were well developed... Salsa Proud Book Worm, 
Goodreads Reviewer

5 STARS! This book is both heart wrenching and hopeful...sad yet healing. Loved it! 
A Beautiful Sin 
is a FANTASTIC story filled with pain, regret, blame, but also hope, understanding, and healing. I can always weigh my feelings of a book based on how much I absorb and how much I find myself thinking about it when I'm not even reading. This is one of those books... Allison,
The Reading Escapade Book Blog
 
5 STARS! Such an emotional story of two people struggling with their pasts. One finds their way with God, while the other expresses their way with art. Both finding themselves walking a fine line in which one could lose it all. A story of forgiveness and hope and one that is sinfully delightful and devastatingly beautiful ... Kristie, 
Love N. Books Reviewer
 
5 STARS! A breathtaking, gut wrenching, suspenseful, and just overall heart stopping story that keeps you captivated from start to finish!...Kat Grimes, 
Tsk Tsk What To Read

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Bless me,
Father, for I have sinned…

Words I’ve repeated how many times? It doesn’t matter. What matters is the confession that comes now. God and the church are my life, but sometimes we are given choices—choices that are neither good nor evil, but weigh heavily on one’s soul. Mine walks in the form of something so beautiful, she is the temptation I never thought I’d have. Or perhaps she is my salvation, my deliverance from my skeletons, the invisible chains that bind me, the very ones that have constricted my heart for far too long.

Believe me, I have no regrets, but I know I have sinned. When she stepped into my life, I didn’t see how much we would become entangled with one another—or how hard it would be to untangle those bonds. But I must admit the truth to myself, and to God.

This isn’t a love story. For that would go against my vows. Yet the sins we’ve committed could mean the end…or the beginning of everything.

Father, this is my confession
…

Fourteen Years Ago

I was a sinner, taught from an early age that I would fall short of perfection. If not by actions, I would eventually succumb to impure thoughts. And what kid my age didn’t have random thoughts that would contradict the laws of God? What I hadn’t known that day was how much of a sinner I was and the price I would have to pay.

“Canaan Michael, get out of bed now! Mass starts in forty-five minutes. You’re going to be late,” Mom shouted.

Blinking my eyes open, I glanced over at the clock and groaned. As much as I loved being an altar server, my bed felt so awesome right then.

“I’m up!” I called out as I threw the comforter off and climbed out of bed. I managed to do the necessary things in only a few short minutes in order to join my parents in the kitchen.

Dad glanced up from where he poured a cup of coffee. “That was fast,” he said. “Want some breakfast?”

“No, sir. Communion, remember?” As Catholics, we needed to fast an hour before we took Holy Communion.

Dad proudly glanced over at Mom. They were used to me spouting off rules of our faith and occasionally scripture, for that matter.

“You have plenty of time. By the time Communion comes, it’ll be way past an hour,” Dad said, patting my shoulder.

I glanced at the clock to check the time. “Okay, I’ll have some toast.”

Mom poured orange juice and milk for me while Dad handled the toast. As soon as it was set in front of me, I scarfed it all down, and they both laughed.

“What?”

“You act like you haven’t eaten in a month.” Dad shook his head and his tone changed. “If I didn’t know better, I might have thought you were a glutton.”

I nodded, realizing my mistake. “And gluttony is a sin.”

Dad gave me an approving nod.

“Sorry. It’s just that I don’t want to be late. I’m the lead server today.” I took my duties very seriously, more so than any of the other servers.

Dad winked at me. “Gotcha. Well, let’s go then. You ready, Susan?”

Mom smiled and nodded.

We pulled into the church parking lot and I eagerly got out. On my way inside I remembered something. “Oh, before I forget, don’t wait on me afterward. Father O’Brien asked me to help him clean up the sacristy after Mass. I think Sister Rita, the one who usually does it, has been sick. So I said I could help. I’m pretty sure he’ll give me a ride home.”

“Okay. We’ll see you later then. Dinner is at five.”

Not wanting to be late, I hightailed it to the room where the altar servers changed into their robes. While we were getting dressed, Father O’Brien stuck his head in. “Are you still planning to help afterward?”

Some of the other boys gave me curious looks, but I ignored them. “Yes, sir.”

He nodded and left. A few minutes later, we went out to light all the candles before the start of Mass. During the service, I kept my posture straight as I listened to the introduction rites, the Liturgy of the Word, and said all the prayers during the Liturgy of the Eucharist, which I had memorized by heart. My mind drifted a bit as I tried to pinpoint when church had become more than a place my parents hustled me to every week. Every time I entered I felt God within my soul. I never shared this with anyone, except my parents, because I was already the odd man out at school. When you’re fourteen, even in Catholic school, love for the church is fuel for bullying. My parents, along with Father O’Brien, were the only ones who knew how important my faith was to me.

As I stood at the altar waiting diligently for my part, I watched the other boys robotically go through the motions. They didn’t get it like I did.

Even though it wouldn’t be until next year that I would enter high school, I was pretty sure I wanted to become a priest. Leaving behind the elementary school here at Holy Cross was just one step closer to that goal. When I graduated from the eighth grade, I would move on to the Catholic high school clear across town. My parents had agreed to bring me to early Mass every morning before school because they understood how important it was to me. Church was my home and someday would be my life.

When Mass was over and my robes were hung in the altar server’s room, I reentered the sanctuary. Inhaling, the lingering scent of incense flooded my nostrils, and I thought of how much I loved that smell. There were items on the altar that needed to be returned to the sacristy, so I gathered them and picked up the soiled linen that was used during Mass as well. When I walked into the sacristy, Father O’Brien was waiting for me.

“Is everyone gone, Canaan?”

It was a strange question, one I didn’t think too much of at the time. Father O’Brien was someone I trusted.

“Yes, Father. The church is empty. I grabbed these on my way here.” I nodded toward the items I held.

“Good. Put them down there.” He pointed to the table where his vestments were usually laid out for him prior to Mass.

I did as I was told and turned to go collect the other things.

“Lock the door, Canaan.”

“Sir?” I faced him, only to find his eyes were dark as though he were angry.

“I said, lock the door.” The chill in his voice made me frown.

“But—”

“You heard me,” he snapped, pointing at the door.

At first I thought he wanted it locked because maybe he had the money collected at Mass, and he didn’t want anyone coming in.

“Yes, Father.” So I went and locked the door. I turned around to find his hard stare. He loomed before me, tall in stature, much bigger than me. And for the first time in his presence, I felt uneasy.

“Come here, Canaan.”

I did as he commanded. It was Father O’Brien, my pastor and priest, and to disobey him would’ve been a sin. Besides, I was always taught that priests were God’s ministers who represented Christ and the Church. Why would I not listen to him?

That day he gave me my first lesson as to why I was a sinner.

________

I stood there with my head hung low. My hands clenched the table—the table I had once revered because it was where the Holy Chalices rested—and I feared my knuckles would burst through my skin. I stared at the floor, where red wine from the cruet had been knocked off the table and seeped into the rug like blood. As the stain grew larger and larger, it seemed symbolic somehow—

“Clean up, Canaan.”

Father O’Brien’s voice was the knife that flayed my soul. His approach was silent, and I only knew he was near when his breath fanned across my neck from above. Spikes of fear chilled my blood. Although his tone was low, I heard him clearly. If only I were taller, like my dad, maybe I could have overpowered him.

“Canaan, this is God’s way, his path for you.”

His meaning burned a trail of confusion mixed with hatred into my heart. Foul air locked in my lungs and I was unable to breathe without choking on the scent of my own filth.

When his hands landed on my back, terror would have emptied my bladder. Only that had already happened. I prayed to my God who hadn’t come to my aid that I wouldn’t have to endure more penance for my sins. Father taught me a lesson I never wanted to learn again. My skin crawled as his hand slid down my back closer to a place I couldn’t bear to think about. I shuddered for what seemed the hundredth time.

“Now, clean up. We have work to do.”

He couldn’t be right. My teeth clenched together and I tasted dirt and rust. I spun around so fast Father O’Brien stepped back in surprise. I ignored the ache in my body and in my soul and found my spine instead.

“God would never do this to someone.” Tears threatened to spill over and I forced back the sob in my throat.

He stepped forward, towering over me, and I flinched. He was no small man. Large and intimidating, he reared up over me with his arms extended. I shrunk into myself, fear freezing me in place. His hand landed on my shoulder much like my father’s had that morning. However, Father O’Brien’s touch sickened me.

“You will see this is the way to become closer to Him.” His tone was hard and unyielding, much like he had been.

Him? God? I didn’t want to believe it.

“Now clean up,” he demanded before leaving the room.