Never an Empire by James Green Read Free Book Online Page B

God whose only concern was the spiritual and physical welfare of his flock.
    As he made his rounds it was as if he was carrying some great heavy burden which threatened to crush him. At the last house he visited he suddenly felt an almost overwhelming urge to stand up and scream out the guilt of his sin and in his mind, as the good lady talked of this and that, he actually saw in his imagination his doing so. But slowly the gentle trickle of inconsequential words that kept coming from her lips dissolved the image. He was a sinner, not a hero, a Judas, not a repentant thief, and he began once more to sip his coffee, nibble his cake, and listen to whatever it was the good woman was saying.
    As he left the house and headed homewards he felt the burden lighten and his thoughts take a different direction. Would he see her again? Would she still be in his house?
    The crisis had passed.

Chapter Seven
    With his morning’s pastoral work behind him Father Enrique arrived at the church. Normally he would enter and spend time before the altar with Jesus. He paused at the doorway. Would she still be there? He looked into the dark interior. In the house she might be waiting, in the church Jesus was waiting. Finally he went into the church and knelt as usual.
    His mind, however, seemed not to have noticed that he was on his knees in front of the tabernacle. Last night his world had changed for ever yet today nothing had seemed to be different. How could that be? At the seminary he had been an outstanding student, especially gifted in moral theology. There had even been talk of his going to Rome for further studies although in the end it had come to nothing. Yet now, when he needed his mind to use all those years of hard study, to resurrect some solution to his impossible situation, it produced nothing. He knelt at the altar rails, his eyes fixed on the tabernacle but his thoughts were far from prayer. He forced himself to seek an answer to his problem. What was done could not be undone, but if there was no way to turn the clock back for his body, was there some way it could be done for his soul? He could leave the town on some pretext, go to another priest, confess his sin, and be forgiven. Except that to be truly forgiven one had to feel a sorrow for the sin and have a firm purpose of amendment. And he felt no sorrow, he looked back on his sin as one of the most wonderful things that had ever happened in his life and as for a firm purpose of amendment, he longed to believe that it might happen again, that the young woman might once more slip into his bed and they would come together. His mind began to wander back to the passion of the previous night and he lost himself in remembrance when a hand gently touched his shoulder. He turned and looked up. It was her.
    â€˜Your housekeeper sent me. You are late for your meal. She was worried.’
    He blessed himself, got up and stood facing her. This was the woman who encompassed his destruction, who had stained beyond repair the pure whiteness of his immortal soul. Yet all he could think of was how beautiful she looked and remember the softness and warmth of her body as he had felt it last night. He didn’t know what to say or do.
    â€˜There was no need to worry.’
    â€˜We should go, Father, your meal is ready.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    The young woman faced the altar and genuflected then walked away down the aisle. Father Enrique watched for a moment, his thoughts unchanged, then he came to his senses, turned and genuflected to the tabernacle behind the altar, and followed her.
    As he walked his mind tried to grapple with the situation. His housekeeper and his midday meal would be waiting as usual. But the young woman was still there. What would he do? What could he say? Would she stay in the house for another night and if she did would she come to him? Would they make love again? As he reached the church doors and he automatically put his hand in the holy water stoop and