Penance at the Altar

Benjamin Scott

The day dawned with a cool temperature, which made me radiant for the ceremony I was about to perform. Spring arrived, bringing its flowers and the refreshing aroma that came from Central Park, along with a wedding to be celebrated in our church. I am the youngest bishop in our country, ordained three years ago, and now, at thirty-nine, I am beginning to see how much I have been blessed by divine grace.

I rise from my simple bed and lift my eyes to the wooden cross that hangs on the wall opposite my bed. A simple decoration fills my room in the parish house. I smile, grateful for another day in the vocation I worked so hard to fulfill. Gazing directly at the wooden cross, I kneel and begin my morning prayers, asking for mercy for the sins of my community and not forgetting to ask that they continue to be compassionate.

After finishing my prayer, I start getting ready for the most anticipated and carefully prepared wedding, that of Henrique Carter and Laís Carter's son. A wedding full of heads of state and even some members of royalty will be present, making it clear that the couple soon to be here is of great importance.

Already dressed, I look once more in the mirror, thankful that I don’t have a black eye after yesterday’s boxing practice. I may be a priest, but I don’t neglect my health, and one way I’ve found to take care of it and turned it into a hobby is boxing at a gym we have in the neighborhood.

“Bishop?” I hear my name called from the partially open door.

“Come in!” I say to Josh.

He’s one of the seminarians with great potential, but we all see he’ll struggle with the temptation of the flesh. Unfortunately, his calling came out of obligation to his family; his father forced him to be here, and he had to end a relationship with a girl he’s in love with. We can all see how bitter and suffering he is, sulking in the corners.

“Good morning, Bishop. I came to let you know that the groom’s parents have just arrived and requested to speak with you!” I smile and nod, grateful.

“Thank you, Josh. Could you please take them to the office next to the confessional? I’ll use it today and speak with them there,” I say, watching the seminarian leave.

Unlike everyone else who lives here at St. Patrick's Cathedral, I am not afraid of whom the Carter family truly is. I don’t condone what they do for a living or how they run the city from behind the scenes, but I am extremely grateful for all the charity work Mrs. Carter is involved in.

One of her projects is for street girls; she created a center where they can learn something, and she also set up a sort of shelter, allowing the younger ones to have a safe place to sleep and eat.

I take a deep breath before going to speak with the most important family in my community. Before leaving my room, I kiss the gold crucifix I wear around my neck, a reminder that my fidelity and loyalty are to the higher being who revealed Himself to me long ago. He has granted me great things during the years I have led this cathedral.

I leave my room, greeting each of the seminarians I pass by, saying “hello” to one of the few nuns we have in our cathedral, and continue on my way. An intrusive thought crosses my mind about the presence of women here, something I find risky for both the men and the nun in question.

Even though I understand the need for some women to handle specific tasks, like caring for the elderly who live in seclusion. On the upper floors of the cathedral, in the wing opposite the bell tower, as well as in the administration of our cathedral.

I smile as I see the nave fully decorated with seasonal flowers, filling the air with such a pleasant aroma. A smile spreads across my face as I feel as though I’m entering a small grove with the abundance of flowers in the church. It reminds me a lot of Central Park.

Before entering the office, I catch my reflection and am pleased to see that nothing is out of place, my clothes are impeccable, my hair is well-trimmed, and my beard is full and well-groomed. Just because I’m a priest doesn’t mean I don’t like to take care of my appearance.

As I enter my office, I am met with a pair of blue eyes and a pair of green eyes. Their gazes are full of pure happiness, and I could feel how eager they were for the ceremony that was about to take place.

“Good morning!” I say, approaching the couple.

“Good morning, Bishop!” Mr. Carter stands up and extends his hand to greet me.

“Good morning!” his wife says, holding her small purse in her hands.

“You asked to see me?” I ask as I walk around my desk.

“Yes, we came to clarify a small detail that I believe you haven’t noticed yet,” the man, who must be nearly six and a half feet tall, says.

Something that doesn’t intimidate me, as we apparently share the same height.

“I’m listening…” I say with a hint of curiosity.

“I’ve placed a few men to take care of our security inside the cathedral…” Mr. Carter says. “I believe you know what I do for a living?”

His question is posed, and I notice the relaxed manner in which both of them are, but how could I not know that the Carter name is more feared than that of the devil himself? That loyalty to this name is a reason to kill anyone who dares look sideways at a member of their family.

“I’ve heard some rumors. As you know, I need to take care of the sheep in my flock!” I say, laughing with the couple.

“The same goes for me!” he says, and I can see in his smile just how perverse and cruel this man must be. “Everyone inside here is under my protection, so to ensure that, I’ve stationed many men around the corners. Don’t be alarmed if you see some of my men armed around here!”

I nod in agreement; there’s nothing I can deny this family. I’m grateful to them for all that they do.

"No problem at all, Mr. Carter!" I say, standing up.

Mr. Carter's wife, who exuded an aura of cruelty, was already on her feet and walking towards the door. She looked happy, and I imagine it's because her son is getting married, and according to the social columns, the bride is a billionaire heiress.

"Bishop?" Mrs. Carter calls to me just before crossing the threshold.

"Ma'am…"

"There was a girl I saw at the shelter yesterday, Lessie, if I’m not mistaken, that's her name," she begins, and I notice a flicker of doubt and confusion in her eyes.

"I haven't been to the shelter this week, but if you'd like some information, I can ask the nuns…" I start to say, but she shakes her head.

"The girl must be around twenty years old, and I'm interested in knowing how she ended up in New York. I hope she’s not up to anything wrong, Bishop. I'm not ready to have to cut off the hands of a servant of the Creator!" I swallow hard at the not-so-subtle threat from Mrs. Carter.

"As I mentioned, I’m not aware of the details regarding new arrivals at the shelter, but as soon as the ceremony is over, I’ll make sure to get that information. You have my word!" I assure her.

"I hope so. The last person who gave me their word and didn’t keep it probably looks like a popsicle in the Hudson River by now!" She says with a sweet smile. "We’ll see you at the altar. Excuse us, dear."

I let out a heavy breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I sink into my chair and let my mind race, trying to figure out who this girl could be, especially since Mrs. Carter mentioned she was twenty years old. The last thing I need is trouble with this family, and I certainly don't want to end up as fished food.

I turn to the phone and start making a few calls until it’s almost time for the ceremony to perform the wedding of Leon Carter and Ella Walker-Miller.

To my dismay, no one had any useful information I could provide to Mrs. Carter, who seemed overly interested in some random stranger, which only made me more curious. With half an hour left before the wedding, I decide to leave my office.

I want to see how everything is going outside, and may God grant us a peaceful ceremony without any incidents.

As I step out of my office, I can feel several eyes on me. I offer a few smiles as I walk towards the altar. I notice a few altar boys and a young priest who were there to assist me with the liturgy.

While talking with the priest, I feel a pair of eyes fixed on me, as if I’m being watched from a distance.

"Perhaps we need a little more…" I say, scanning the sea of important guests present.

My eyes quickly sweep across the various people chatting with each other, and I can see how happy and excited they all are.

"Camilla, Camilla, you're lost in your own world again…" My gaze shifts toward the conversation happening in the front row of pews.

There was a woman with sensual blue eyes, looking at me with admiration, and I could see that her breathing seemed slightly altered. Her blonde hair was styled in a high bun with a few loose strands framing her face, making her look beautiful…

Beautiful?

What kind of thought is that?

The shock makes me stumble, and I take a step back, as if my body is instinctively retreating from the sin that could befall me. Even with my eyes fixed on her, I begin to feel an erection that should not exist.

I am a man who has renounced the pleasures of the flesh, and in my more than fifteen years of priesthood, I had never felt anything close to what I just experienced.

"I need to go to the office…" I say to the priest beside me.

"Is everything alright, Bishop?" he asks, concerned.

My erection begins to worsen, and I need to leave before anyone notices the bulge beneath my cassock. It was a terrible idea to leave my room without wearing underwear, just the priestly trousers. I decide to lie to the priest next to me.

"Yes, I'm just going to get something cold to drink. Did you feel it heat up?" I ask sarcastically.

Because, in truth, I feel closer to hell than to God right now.

"Alright, if anyone asks, I'll say you went to get some water!"

He says, and I quickly head towards my office, hoping there’s a change of clothes there so I can control the desire stirred by that stranger.

I enter my office, tormenting myself for the sin I just committed, feeling dirty and unworthy to perform the most important wedding in my cathedral. I go to the closet and breathe a sigh of relief when I see a set of my clothes there.

I quickly remove my shoes and trousers in a rush; I can’t take too long, or they’ll notice my absence. I touch my swollen and throbbing erection, driven solely by the thought that invaded my mind at that moment.

"I can solve that problem!" The voice of the demon makes itself known in the very place where I thought I would be safe from her.