Page 11 of The Priest

The group of them rise together and walk out in silence.

They’d condemned her before they ever entered the room and I don’t know why I’m surprised. The anger of this town at the deprivation, at the men we lost during the Saar offensive, wants to be unleashed at something or someone. The Germans are far away but Marie is right here, an easy target. And it was me and my selfishness that put her there.

8

Marie

I haven’t seen Edouard since this morning. He walked out without a word, leaving me to wonder if I’d gone too far with what I said. To me, what occurred last night was a miracle, like discovering a magical portal in your own backyard, or mermaids in your well. But perhaps it wasn’t to him. Perhaps it felt like a violation. He broke his vows, and I suppose neither of us honored what the church teaches about intimacy. Maybe he regrets it, but I didn’t see regret in his face at the words. I saw hunger and temptation.

I thought I did, anyhow.

I teach all morning, trying to shake off the sense that I’m being observed. Maybe I’m just too conscious of how I feel – feverish, dazed, thrilled, ripe—but I feel certain it must show in my face.

Irene, in particular, has been icy to me. She cannot know what’s happened, but perhaps she senses it? We should be more careful, but I don’t know how to be careful with him. Especially not after what we experienced last night.

I’m just leaving my final class when Edouard finally walks into the hall. I smile, but he does not smile back. He stands by the coat rack, which is where I’m heading anyway, but as I approach his eyes grow wild. He looks around him, as if he plans to flee.

I went too far this morning .

That must be it. He wanted to hold me and talk to me and I replied by asking him to break his vows.

I feel like I’m drowning in shame by the time I reach him. “I’m sorry about earlier,” I whisper, my words tripping over themselves. “ I— ”

“Marie, it has to stop,” he says. His voice is firm, almost angry.

My mouth falls open. I’d assume he just meant my inappropriateness earlier, but I’ve never heard him angry like this. I’ve never seen his face so cold. “What has to stop?”

He glances over my shoulder, and his nostrils flare. “All of it. All of it has to stop.”

“I—” I look around in dismay. Irene is hurrying toward us, of course. She can’t stand to be away from his side for even a moment. “I don’t understand. Is it because of what I said?”

His jaw hardens. “It doesn’t matter. Just stay away.”

“Father,” says Irene, her voice sharp and unhappy, “I need your assistance, if you please.”

“I have to go,” he says. “Good day, Mademoiselle Durand.”

I stumble out the door. I’ve forgotten my coat entirely and the wind is so cold it burns my skin, but I don’t care. What just happened? I made a mistake, yes, but I never dreamed he would change his mind about me over something so small. Maybe it wasn’t small, though. Maybe he’s suddenly had second thoughts about my character, my purity. Maybe he thinks I’ve done all this before.

I press my hands to my face. It’s so cold that my tears are freezing against my skin. Is it wrong that I wanted more? Does he believe I led him astray?

Amelie and Henri make it all seem so easy, so natural. But neither of them is a priest. Or perhaps last night was only magical for one of us.

* * *

I spend most of the afternoon feeling sick.

Did I really ruin everything so easily? I still can’t believe how cold he turned at the end. I’ve never, not once, heard him use that tone with anyone. The problem is that I am unable to give up on him. I’m unable to believe last night meant nothing to him, or that he could judge me so harshly for what I said.

He wasn’t willing to hear me out before, but he’s a reasonable man. If I apologize, if I explain that this is new to me and I simply got carried away earlier, surely he’ll forgive me? He’s a priest after all. Isn’t that his job?

I prepare quiche for the dinner at the parish. Food is getting scarce but at least we still have eggs and milk and cheese. I borrow Amelie’s coat and walk back to the church that afternoon with a heavy heart. Just this morning I’d practically skipped over this entire path, wondering what I’d say when I saw him, wondering if I might persuade him to come to the barn again tonight.

I think of the way he was when I arrived. His face, his voice, his words. I need you, he’d said, with such longing. My God, the effect that had on me. I’d have followed him anywhere in that moment. How could such a small thing have ruined it all?

I arrive at the church and take a deep breath as I enter. Edouard glances over but looks away nearly as fast with his jaw clenched tight. Parishioners are already lining up and there’s obviously no chance of speaking to Edouard before dinner begins, so I carry my tray to the serving table and take my place behind it.

Madame Bonard looks at the quiche, her mouth pinched with distaste. “How nice that you still have eggs and cream,” she says, “while the rest of us struggle.”