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  “Thank you, honey. You take care of everything... everybody. Not much of a life for you, sometimes, I guess. But I'm proud of you, honey.”

  Beverly felt tears come to her eyes. She had never felt so close to her father before.

  “Maybe you should go fix Joe some chicken soup or something. He looked pretty bad.”

  “I gave him a drink,” she said, her voice quivering.

  Charlie made a sound that was like a laugh. “Good,” he said. “Good for you. Don't give him too much; preachers have no tolerance.”

  “I know. I told him that.”

  “You tell 'em, honey.”

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Yep. I'm a lucky man.”

  “I'm going to go so you can sleep.”

  “Okay, honey. Don't take any wooden nickels.”

  She said something like a prayer on the way home. Actually, it was more of a question. Is it time? she asked. For him? He should have a little time left, shouldn't he? At least he got his kids raised. There were a lot of things she hadn't told him yet. A lot of things he should know—like about the prom. She wanted to ask him if he remembered the prom. It hadn't gone very well; she hadn't been asked to go. And he took her to a sad movie—so she could have an excuse to cry. She refused to cry about a stupid old prom, but her dad knew that she really needed a good cry.

  They couldn't let him down, she thought. He had gotten them raised and they had to let him know they were okay.

  She walked into her quiet house. Obviously the boys had been put to bed. The living room was dark and the television was turned way down, low, so they could sleep. Joe was sitting on the couch, and she saw someone else that shouldn't be let down.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. “I wasn't exactly there when you needed me.”

  “You can't be every time.”

  “You were there for me though.”

  “Good. You can't have all the fun, you know.”

  And there was more truth in her words than she realized at that moment.

  Chapter Nine

  The most remarkable thing in the entire world must be bypass surgery. Charlie went home within ten days of his admittance, and in better shape than ever. The day after the surgery he was up and walking. Two weeks after the surgery he was home. He had a new diet, a few pills to take, an exercise routine to follow, and the doctor was going to let him go back to work part-time in six weeks. Even Delores, who loved to worry, settled down.

  April came and the snow melted. So did Bev. A little. She could say “I love you” to Joe without looking devastated. She was saying it with a smile now and then. To the congregation at Joe's church she wouldn't confirm or deny any specific relationship. She admitted to liking Joe yet steadfastly promised never to marry him. She would not ever be a minister's wife. So she joined the Bible study and started helping Joe with the youth group. Beverly wasn't very convincing.

  Beverly let April turn into a month of debates. She didn't always agree with Joe and was amazed that he didn't seem to expect her to. In fact, he seemed to encourage her own ideas. But she didn't buy it yet. She wouldn't pray with him.

  In private she tried it out. You could get out of practice with that sort of thing. She only needed a sign.

  A minor miracle would clinch it. She didn't consider the current happiness in her life to be any special favor. That was Joe. And Joe was mortal.

  Beverly admitted to Joe that she didn't think they could make it together. They were too different. She liked a stiff drink and sex that wasn't sacred. She didn't ask him if that mattered, she just assumed it would. After all, he was a minister. Wow.

  Joe checked with her from time to time to see if she was making any progress. He was only in a hurry, he explained, because being with her all the time and not being married to her was extremely hard on his nerves.

  But Beverly didn't want to change her life. She lived a good life, did not commit any really serious sins; well, so what if she said damn a lot? Damn was a damn good word if you wanted the meaning of something to really stick, right? But she stopped putting God in front of it without really noticing. Joe told her to shut up and listen and maybe she would find out that He didn't even have any changes in mind. And she said she didn't want to be spiritual and pure and dull. And he laughed.

  Beverly quit smoking. It didn't have anything to do with God or with Joe. She quit because she wanted to quit. You couldn't smoke at church and she was spending so damn much time there, she had just about lost the habit. There were some definite changes in Beverly and everyone could see it but her. John was glad. Delores was elated. Terry was confused. That's when Terry called Joe.

  “Sure, I can see you, Ter. What's up?”

  “Listen, I've never done anything like this before. It's personal. I don't want anyone to know I called you.”

  “Fine. When do you want to come over?”

  “Soon. As soon as possible. Before I lose my nerve.”

  Joe laughed. “Come on, Terry. You're not afraid of me, now, are you?”

  “Terrified,” she murmured just before hanging up.

  Joe didn't usually borrow trouble, but Terry was special to him. He hoped it wasn't as bad as she made it sound. He didn't feel much better when she tapped lightly at the office door and stood there looking humble and scared.

  “Okay, Terry, why don't you tell me what's got you so upset?”

  “I don't want to anymore. I think I want to leave. I'll sort this out on my own, okay?”

  “Okay. You know my number.”

  “Okay, see ya.”

  “Bye.”

  “Joe?”

  “Present.”

  “I don't know what to do.”

  “Neither do I. Want to talk?”

  “No. No. I want to get out of here. Fast.”

  “I won't grill you, Terry. Let's talk about something else. Something not personal. School. How's school?”

  Tears. Instant tears. Jackpot.

  “The problem is school?” Joe couldn't hide his shock. Terry was a straight A student. Brilliant. She had a great future.

  “Sort of. I'm all mixed up. The problem is... Joe, can I ask you something personal?”

  “Sure. I don't know if I'll answer, but you can ask.”

  “Do you love Beverly?”

  “Yes,” he said with a big grin. “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you sleep with her?”

  “That is a little personal. Very.” She dropped her head, ashamed. It was personal, but then, so was her problem. “No, Terry. I guess what you want to know is if Bev and I have a sexual relationship and the answer is no. Not that I'm entirely happy about it.”

  “So, you really want to?”

  “Now, that is personal. Too personal. Sorry, honey, but that's between me and Bev. I don't see what the answer to that could mean to anyone else. My business and my problem. Altogether too personal.”

  “You might have just said yes. It would have been a lot less windy in here.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugged. “So, what does that have to do with you?”

  She raised her chin a notch. “I'm sleeping with Steve.” She held her head high, daring him. Challenge. Terry wanted to fight it out. If Joe would be tough and unreasonable, she could run away and do as she pleased.

  “So?”

  “So? What do you mean, so? It's a sin.”

  “I don't think you came here to tell me that. We're not Catholics. You don't have to confess to me.”

  “Well, what do you have to say about it?”

  “Nothing. Now, what's the problem?”

  “I thought you would make a problem out of that.”

  “My job isn't making problems. And you just told me you were sleeping with Steve, which doesn't sound anything like a problem. That sounds like you've made up your mind. Did you expect me to try to talk you out of doing it again?”

  “I know I'm going to do it again.”

  “Then why are you here? To ask me if I'm sleeping with Bev
?”

  “No.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because I don't feel good. I need something. Because I know it isn't wrong, yet it still doesn't feel right. What kind of minister are you anyway?”

  “Now I know the problem. Here, blow your nose. Take it easy.”

  “So what can you do?”

  “What you want me to do. Talk this over with you. Sensibly.”

  “It won't help.”

  “Why don't you wait and see.” This whole family, Joe thought, is in such a blasted hurry all the time. And plain unreasonable too. “Why don't you give me something to work with here? Tell me if you love him, how this got started, where you want to go with it.”

  “Of course I love him. What does that have to do with sin and sex and feeling bad?”

  “Not a heck of a lot, unfortunately. So, what do you want to do about it?”

  “We want to get married and we can't. Our parents are paying tuition and they both have decided that the financial help will stop if we get married before we graduate. They say if we love each other, we'll wait. We didn't tell them that we already haven't waited. We couldn't make it, Joe. We can't say it makes more sense to quit school. This time it sounds like it makes more sense to make love on the sly and stay in school.”

  “It sure does.”

  “You agree?”

  “No. I said it sounds like that.”

  “Steve has talked about quitting school and working for a year or so, long enough to get us started. We've both applied for scholarships and financial aid programs, but aren't having much luck. I'm the one with the shot at a scholarship or aid, and poor Steve—well, his family has plenty of money. He has only one year left, Joe. And I'm not even halfway through. I'm afraid if I quit, I'll never go back, and if Steve doesn't finish for some reason... Oh, we want to be together, and we couldn't wait. We tried. It was just too painful.”

  “But you're not happy now, either, so it didn't solve much.”

  “Oh, Joe, you're wrong. It solved almost everything. We're happier, less frustrated, we even get more studying done. No doubts about anything anymore.”

  Joe had a flicker of recognition. Was even Terry, who had never been married, concerned about the sexual shape of her future marriage? Was bad sex that common? He had trouble relating. The worst sex he'd ever had was terrific.

  “But it isn't enough and I'm moving in with Steve. I told my parents I'm taking an apartment with a girlfriend, but I'm really moving into Steve's place. I'm determined to do it, but the tension is killing me. I'm worried they'll find out and be crushed. Make a whole scene. But it isn't enough to keep me from doing it. Okay, Joe, do your stuff. Talk me out of it. And hurry. I'm packing.”

  “I can't. You don't want to change your mind.”

  “Do you have any alternatives?”

  “Yes, get married anyway. Tell your parents the truth about your intentions and do what you have to do to be together and feel right about it. There is nothing wrong with your love for each other, but there's something really dangerous about deception and fear and torment.”

  “We've talked to our parents about wanting to get married. They won't budge. They don't believe we're capable of this kind of decision at our ages. They think we're too young. It seems to be a test of some kind, a test in the form of punishment. They're willing to pay tuition, but only on their terms. They think they're protecting us from making a big mistake or something.”

  “Of course they do, Terry, and you have to understand that. Their motives are the purest. The younger the marriage, the higher the risk of divorce, statistically. Keep yourself from getting mad, keep your perspective. Parents feel an overwhelming responsibility to share in this kind of decision-making. I'm sure if they had a crystal ball that proved your marriage would last in spite of your youth, they'd okay it. Right now they're scared to take that kind of chance.”

  “Understanding that doesn't help me.”

  “It might.” Joe was a little puzzled, which wasn't unusual. There was no need to quote Scripture; Terry would know all the right passages. And she could know as well now as next year if she loved Steve enough to marry him. She was bright, mature, and had that good old healthy need. The bothersome one.

  “I wonder. Terry, look, would you give me a little time to see if I can think of a better solution? I'd like to have a few facts and then see you and Steve together. What's his major?”

  “Hospital administration.”

  “Doing well?”

  “Real well. Three point two.”

  “And you're still in liberal arts, right?”

  “So far.”

  “Okay, now, come back in a couple of days. Friday. And bring Steve. How about two o'clock?”

  “Steve doesn't know I came to see you, Joe. I don't want to make him mad. We don't discuss our personal relationship with—”

  “I'm not going to discuss sex. That's your business. Just bring him.”

  “Okay, but don't get me into trouble.”

  “Um, Terry?”

  “Huh?”

  “If you're so sure, so decided, why the tears?”

  “I like you, Joe. You're good. It mattered. I didn't want you to be ashamed of me.”

  “Ashamed of you? Oh, honey, I couldn't be that.” Joe rose from behind his desk and moved toward Terry. Terry, like Beverly, was going to cry some more. And Joe was going to hold her and tell her it was all right and that he understood, because he did.

  Actually, Joe hadn't had a course on weeping women in the seminary. But he had done some homework on temptation, all kinds, and he knew something about that. He also knew when to pray and when to use his brain. He was a multifaceted preacher.

  “What are you going to do, Joe?”

  “See if I can find a way for you and Steve to keep sleeping together.”

  “Is that any way for a minister to talk?”

  “I think you'll sleep a lot better with God's blessing, right?”

  “I think so. I don't know.”

  “I know.”

  Terry went out with a sniff and Joe got on the phone. He had a nice talk with John, a nice talk with Charles Sullivan, the pastor and head honcho of the church, a nice talk with the administrator of student affairs at the college, and a not so nice talk with a bank officer.

  “But I don't owe anybody any money. Why can't I co-sign a loan?”

  “Because, Reverend, you don't have a credit rating.”

  “But I have a savings account. Number four two six eight seven three four nine oh eight.”

  “A very small savings account.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “What?”

  “Look, the guy is real dependable, hard-working, pulling great grades in school. I have him all lined up with a good part-time job that will turn into full-time after graduation if he does well. It's not a gamble at all. I swear.”

  He thought the banker might say, “We already know you swear,” but he just said, “Probably wouldn't be good enough. Sorry.”

  “Listen, could a single woman who is not a relative co-sign?”

  “Anyone who qualifies can co-sign, Reverend.”

  Well, Beverly lived frugally, but Beverly was loaded. She didn't act loaded, but there was a healthy trust for the boys, more insurance on top of that, and a lawsuit with the trucking firm that had paid off right away. And social security. And she bought the duplex rather than renting. Cash.

  Beverly didn't have many bills and she had a ton of charge accounts. She was sitting pretty, thanks to Bob's careful planning. Educations were set, there would always be plenty to eat, and beyond that Joe didn't know the bottom line. He thought it would be pushy to ask.

  But now he had a good reason to ask.

  “I know the kid personally, Bev. He's a fair risk. I wouldn't even ask you if I thought there was any chance he wouldn't make good. I'm willing to share responsibility with you. I made that offer to the bank, but they don't trust me.”

  “Well, if you thin
k it's safe and he's in need, why don't you let me make him a loan? He can pay me back at a little lower interest rate. I can spare it.”

  “That's nice, but remember, honey, this is a business proposition only. He didn't ask for any favors. I don't want to bruise his pride.”

  “It's on your conscience, big boy.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know. You said that already.”

  “Can I come over tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have never been invited to your place. It's rude. Very tacky too.”

  “Worried?”

  “Ha-ha. Got a roommate you don't want me to meet?”

  “I'll make you and the boys some hot dogs on my grill if it doesn't rain and you can check out my bachelor pad. How about six o'clock?”

  “See you then, preacher baby.”

  She was dynamite. Sexy and wild. Beautiful. He asked again: Wouldn't it be all right just once? Just once and I won't do it again until she marries me? One night? Please?

  No.

  That's what I thought. Don't get sore, I'm only checking. Amen.

  Joe believed that God had a good sense of humor. There was time enough for all the serious praying, time for holiness and righteousness, and in his spare time he talked to his good friend, his Holy Father. God would never have let the world exist this long if He were short on patience or tolerance. That was what the Son was for. Anyway, Joe figured God was getting a real kick out of his control. Control? Something like that.

  While he was praying more earnestly for Beverly's soul, really giving it the old concentration and urgently pleading. He was also doing a lot of complaining about his waning resistance. “See, it's like this, Lord—I just don't think I can take any more of those dreams. I really am getting too old for that kind of thing. Beverly is about to hit her prime and I'm about to lose mine. Now, if we're going to have a baby together, we had better get married and she won't marry me until she stops thinking I'm on some kind of crazy God trip. And about temptation, well, you just don't know temptation until you start hanging around with Beverly. And about that baby, I'd like a girl. Amen.”

  Joe admitted to Beverly that he hadn't rushed home to clean his apartment. He didn't have to. He was fussy, neat, and tidy. It wasn't much either. Clean as a whistle, sparsely furnished, and small. Very small. One whole room.