„What the ...," Tommy mumbled and stopped in the doorway.
"What?" Arthur asked and tried to get a look over Tommy's shoulder. "Oh, fuck!"
"That's what I'd call a classic execution," Tommy said and entered the sacristy where he took a big step over Father Callum's dead body.
"Right between the eyes," Arthur stated and bit on his lower lip. "He must have known his murderer, mustn't he?"
"Aye," Tommy answered and looked around. "Hear that?" He then asked and lifted his head, listening closely.
Arthur nodded. Footsteps, fast, echoing through the nave, heels clicking on the lithic floor. There was a woman in the central aisle, without any doubt.
"Father Callum?" She asked in a hushed tone, matching the place she was in – one doesn't yell in church.
Tommy nodded with his head in the direction of the aisle and Arthur shook his head: "What the hell should I ..."
"Just go. Don't let her enter the sacristy. Whoever she is, she doesn't need to see this."
"But ..."
"Go. Improvise, holy mother of god!" Tommy hissed and shoved him out of the door.
Arthur took a deep breath and closed the door behind him, leaving Tommy with Father Callum's mortal remains behind.
"Father Callum?" Once again, her voice came from the middle aisle, nearer now.
"Good morning." Arthur greeted and stepped out of the shadows of the side aisle.
"Good morning. I'm sorry, I'm late." She gave him a smile and Arthur felt his heart stop for a second.
God, she was beautiful. He didn't think he'd seen someone so beautiful before. Her smile was warm and genuine, her dress caressed the most likely most perfect body he'd ever laid eyes on. Green eyes watched him and a little confusion let her furrow her brows. He, for sure, didn't look like a priest.
"Late?" Arthur asked and shook his head.
"We've got an appointment, Father Callum. I'm Maud Armstrong."
"I see," Arthur said slowly and squinted.
"My fiancé talked to you about the wedding. He asked you to give me some spiritual advice. But maybe you'd like to ... change ... first?"
"Change?"
"You're in plain clothes, Father Callum. What about your cassock?" She lifted one brow and gestured to his dark blue suit.
"Oh, oh ... yes, but ... no, I won't change right now. There's ... the cleaning lady in the sacristy." Arthur stuttered and hated himself for being so ... insecure.
But her beauty and her charisma made it impossible to think straight. Wait, did she say something about a fiancé? Oh, dammit! Fuck.
"Ah," she said with a nod. "So, where?"
Arthur was tempted to suggest a pub or a fucking teahouse, but this would be absolutely not being priest-like.
"Uhm, right here?" He said and pointed to one of the pew.
"Alright." She said with a smile and took a seat.
He sat down, right at her side and took a deep breath: "So, uhm, spiritual advice?"
"Regarding the marital life, Father. That's what my husband-to-be has in mind. I'm ... unfortunately, I might be catholic by christening, but ... I weren't raised in a catholic household. Andrew wants me to be a good Christian housewife and you know ... I'm not sure what he expects. I hoped you'd be able to help me."
"I see, I see. Now I remember. I'm sorry, I've been so busy during the last weeks. Easter and ... and all that ..." Arthur stopped himself in time, before the word 'shit' slipped out of his mouth. "So, I totally forgot about our appointment. Please, accept my apology."
Arthur tried to imitate the way Father Callum used to speak as good as he could.
"Apology accepted, Father Callum. So ...?"
"Yes?"
"Where to start?" She asked and shrugged.
"At the beginning?" Arthur suggested without even knowing what the beginning would imply.
"The wedding night?" She asked and blushed a bit. "Pretty straight forward but that's alright for me."
He cleared his throat, thought for a few long seconds about the newlywed Mrs. Arthur Shelby, née Maud Armstrong, spread out on white sheets, wearing nothing than red lipstick and a welcoming smile. He felt his cock harden, swallowed hard and asked: "What do you know about ... the consummation of marriage?"
"Nothing?" She answered and for the first time he sensed insecurity and a little bit of fear on her.
"That's not true," he stated and gave her a stern look.
Just as Father Callum had looked when he caught someone at a downright lie.
"Just what ... my foster mother has told me."
"And that's what exactly?"
"I have to do whatever Andrew wants me to do, without complaining, without delay. It's my duty as a wife to give him this pleasure. I'm not supposed to complain about the consummation, even if it hurts. I'm not allowed to deny him the access to my ... body. And, as a respectable, Christian wife I'm not allowed to ask for consummation. The consummation of marriage is the exclusive right of a husband and I have to grant him the exercise of his rights."
"That's ...," 'pretty much bullshit', he thought, but he had to be Father Callum, so he continued aloud "... that's what they tell all the young women. But ..."
She cocked her head and gave him a prompting look.
"If it's done right, you'll never have any reason to complain and ... and it won't hurt." He answered and felt that he started to sweat a little.
"What about Genesis 3:16?"
For someone who weren't raised catholic she seemed to know pretty much. He had absolutely no idea whatever was written in Genesis 3:16.
"Aye, that's ...," he stuttered, but – thank God – she went on: "I will multiply thy sorrows, and thy conceptions: in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children, and thou shalt be under thy husband's power, and he shall have dominion over thee."
"That's a little bit antiquated, don't you think?" Arthur said and nodded emphatically. "The ...the conception part, especially."
"I guess I do. But Andrew doesn't. And it takes me by surprise that you think it's antiquated." She furrowed her brows and gave him a thoughtful look. "What about lust? It's a sin. A deadly sin."
"Pretty much overrated," Arthur stated and lifted one eyebrow.
"Beg your pardon?" Maud asked and the confusion made her face even more attractive.
"Do you love him?" Arthur asked, eager to drop the theme – he wasn't the right man for discussions like this.
"I ... I don't know."
"That's what I've thought. How old are you, Miss Armstrong?"
"I'm turning 21 next month," she answered. "By the way, you know what's funny? Andrew speaks a lot about you and I had a clear picture of you in my mind. About 65 years old, a very well-fed, old-fashioned and principled man – and now you turn out to be pretty young, almost lean and very ... modern."
Arthur shrugged and cleared his throat: "See how you are mistaken." He nodded thoughtfully and went on: "I think ... you should marry someone you love. You shouldn't have to think about loving him or not. If you'd love him, you'd know."
"Father Callum?" Tommy's voice came from the sacristy. "We have to leave. The funeral of Mrs. Miller at St. Albert starts in about 30 minutes and you've promised Mr. Miller to attend the funeral."
Arthur asked himself for a split second, how Tommy was already listening and stood up, just to sit down again. He took her hands in his and whispered insistently: "Leave him, for God's sake, leave him, will you?"
He stood up, turned around and left the church at Tommy's side without looking back.
To his surprise, Tommy didn't drop one word about the miserable show he'd pulled off.