… solipsubmissive …

This is a continuation.  You might want to go back to the beginning by clicking on this link:  Part 1.

Zoe stiffened when his fingers touched her face.  Unaware of the smudge on her cheek, to her it felt like a caress, dumping her into a strange abyss of swirling confusion.  She hastily let go of his arm and stumbled backward into the sanctuary.  One hand flew to her cheek and covered the spot he’d touched.  “You’re a priest,” she said, her tone accusatory.

He chuckled.  “Yes.”  He raised a brow, waiting for the next words to tumble from her lips.  He hadn’t long to wait.

“You touched me.”

“Mmm hmm.”  He nodded slowly.  “I take it you are of the impression that celibacy extends even to touching?”

Zoe wasn’t sure what to say to that.  She considered and discarded several options while he waited.  Finally, she said, “It felt like a friendly touch.”

He almost laughed aloud at the cute little tone of suspicious emphasis she placed on the word “friendly.”  One glance at her face told him she was taking this quite seriously, and he made a conscious effort to school his features into an expression of sobriety.  “Well, it was rather a friendly touch,” he said.  “As a friend, I thought it might be nice of me to wipe the small smudge from your face before someone else saw it.”

Zoe suddenly wished the floor would open beneath her feet and swallow her whole.  She bit her lip and looked down at her feet a moment, then lifted her eyes to his face.  “I’m sorry, Father David,” she said.  “I’ve been unconscionably rude, both outside and in here.”

She looked, for all the world, like a child admitting some act of wrongdoing which was entirely insignificant, but of enormous significance to her.  David felt his heart soften.  Without responding, he indicated a nearby pew.  “Perhaps you’d like to sit and talk about whatever made you seek entrance here?”

Zoe hesitated only a second before sitting down where he’d indicated she might.  He stepped into the row in front of hers and sat down as well, then turned sideways to face her, waiting patiently for her to begin.  He watched as she clasped and unclasped her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast.  She waited a long moment before whispering, “I’m not sure I can talk about it.”

“You might find you feel better if you do.”

She shook her head vigorously.  “No, telling you would only make it worse, I think.”  She glanced around.  “I shouldn’t have come here.”

David could feel her panic, knew almost the instant it began as a tiny spark in the pit of her stomach, watched as it swirled outward and consumed her calm with hot, voracious flame.  He felt helpless before it, knew only that he didn’t want her to leave, not without knowing she could always find her way back.  “What is your name?”  His voice was gentle.

She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.  “Zoe.”

“Well, Zoe.  Perhaps tonight is not a good time for you to talk.  Perhaps I am not the person with whom you will be comfortable speaking.  But please know that you can always come here for solace, or sanctuary, and that you can be at peace here, either alone, or with me.”  Her eyes widened at that, and he supressed a wry smile.  “Or someone else, if you’d rather.”

Her eyes locked with his, and time stopped for a moment.  Then she stood and fled, her running footsteps ringing through the vestibule and out into the night.

Father David stood as well, then rubbed his eyes wearily.  The encounter, he knew, would do nothing to help him sleep.

Continue to:  part three