Reborn

6

"Carol?" Bill said, watching her. Her face had changed, as if the lighting had shifted to give her a strange, almost malevolent look. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am. I just want you. Right now. Right here."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I've never been saner," she said, fixing him with her bright, slightly unfocused eyes as she slowly pulled off her sweater.

"Stop that!"

"You say that, but you don't really mean it," she said, smiling. "You've wanted me since high school, haven't you? And I've wanted you. Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

She reached around behind her and began unfastening her bra.

"Carol, please!"

Then the bra came loose and she shrugged free of it, letting it drop to the floor. Bill's mouth went dry as he stared at her bare breasts. They weren't the big, bouncy kind he had seen in the men's magazines he had confiscated from the boys over the years, but they were round and firm with pink nipples and they were right within reach.

"Who's going to know, and who's it going to hurt?" she said in a softly reasoning voice as she drew long strands of her sandy hair over her shoulders, pulling them taut and strumming them back and forth across her breasts until the nipples stood out hard and erect, just as Bill felt himself becoming hard and erect within his trousers. "After all this time, don't you think we owe it to each other? Just this once?"

"Carol—"

"Come on. It's sort of like unfinished business, don't you think?"

Bill closed his eyes. The idea was so appealing. It was almost as if she were echoing thoughts from his own subconscious. In a way it really was unfinished business, a ghost from his past that would haunt him indefinitely if he didn't do something to exorcise it. Just this once, with Carol, his old love. What could be more perfect? How good to surrender to this delicious warmth spreading from his groin and suffusing his whole being. Just this once and then he could put her behind him and get on with his vocation unencumbered.

When he opened his eyes, he stared in awe. She had slipped out of her jeans and panties and stood completely naked before him. She was beautiful—so beautiful! His eyes were drawn to her light brown pubic hair. He had never seen a completely naked woman before, even in a photo, and this one was naked for him, in the flesh, and she was Carol.

"Come on," she said, smiling and moving closer. She took his hand and placed it against her breast. He could feel the nipple arching against his palm. "Just for old-times' sake."

Just once? In the long run, would it matter if he broke his vow of chastity just once? He tried to reason against that seductive thought but his mind didn't seem to be working too well at the moment.

She released his hand and went down on her knees in front of him.

Just this once. In the long run, in the big picture, what could it matter?

7

He was weakening. She could feel the arrogant bastard's defenses crumbling as she knelt before him and ran her fingers over the bulge behind his fly. A wave of exultation engulfed her. She felt strong, powerful, as if she could conquer the world. The feeling was better than sex, better than the best orgasm she had ever had.

She reached for the zipper on Bill's pants. If she could get her mouth on him, he'd be hers, she knew it. There'd be no turning back for him then.

She smiled.

So much for keeping the spirit unsullied by the flesh, Mr. Jesuit priest!

Suddenly he backed away two stumbling steps. His face was flushed, tortured. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead and upper lip.

"No."

The word was spoken softly, in a hoarse, agonized voice, but it was like a red-hot spike driving into her pelvis. Suddenly the powerful feeling was ripped away. The world seemed to teeter, the walls of the mansion leaned toward her, as if about to crash down upon her.

And the pain—the pain inside was like hell.

Bill had turned away. His words were hurried, breathless, spoken to the empty rear section of the front hall.

"Carol, please! I don't know what's gotten into you, but this is no good!"

More pain, but she forced out the words.

"It's love!" she said to his back. "It's sex! What's more natural than that?"

"Yes, but I made vows, Carol! And one of them was chastity. You can argue all you want about the wisdom and utility of that kind of vow and whether it's productive or counterproductive—and believe me, I've heard all the arguments—but the fact remains that I made it freely, and I intend to hold to it."

The pain drove Carol to the floor. It felt as if something were slowly ripping apart inside her.

"But you of all people, Carol. I can't understand you," he said, his voice slowly returning to normal. "Even if you think my vows are stupid, you know what they mean to me. Why would you try to get me to break them? Especially now with Jim barely cold in his—"

He turned and saw her.

"My God! What's wrong?"

Something felt hot and wet on her thighs. Carol looked down and saw blood gushing from her vagina. The room swam around her. And the pain was so much worse.

"Help me, Bill! I think I'm going to die!"

Twenty

1

"Do you really find comfort in all these little statues and knickknacks?"

Grace regarded Mr. Veilleur with a mixture of fondness and wariness as he finished gluing the head of the Archangel Gabriel back onto its body. Brother Robert was at the far end of the living room, sorting the pieces of the large Mado

If you had my past, she thought, you'd take comfort wherever you found it!

"Comfort," she said. "Yes, that's a good word. They do bring me comfort. Just as the two of you do today."

Brother Robert wasn't listening, but Mr. Veilleur looked up at her with his intense blue eyes. Grace felt an immense attraction for the man. Nothing sordid. Nothing like that. He was perhaps ten years older than she, and talked freely of his wife, to whom he seemed very devoted. There was nothing sexual in the warmth he inspired in her. It was just that his presence gave her such a safe, secure feeling, and heaven knew, after last night's terror, security had become a precious commodity.

"It must have been a terrible experience for you," he said. "I thought you wouldn't want to be alone."

"I didn't! But how did you know?"

"I called—or tried to—to see how you were faring after Sunday. The phone was out of order. I came by and learned about the break-in from the super."

She hadn't been able to stay here last night. The young patrolman had been kind enough to drive her over to Martin's home. He and Brother Robert had been shocked by her story. They gave her the use of one of the spare bedrooms. But even with the coming of this bright, su

Then Mr. Veilleur had shown up at the brownstone this afternoon. He had offered to escort her back. Brother Robert had come along. The super had replaced the lock on the door and went looking for a spare phone to lend her until the phone company could replace the one that had been smashed.

"Why are you helping me fix my things when you no doubt think they're just a silly woman's toys?"

"I doubt that you know very much at all what I think," he said. There was no hostility in the remark. The tone was casual, as if stating a simple fact.

"I'm quite sure that you do not believe as we believe," Grace said, gently challenging him. She wanted to draw him out. He intrigued her so.

"I thought I had made that quite clear."

"Then why do you keep coming back to us—I mean, the Chosen? And why are you here today? I'm enormously grateful for your presence, but surely you have something better to do with a Friday afternoon than help me repair my apartment."