Festering, that was what this sin of his was doing. Thanks to Nessa he had a name for it now, and it was eating him alive inside because he was fooling good people. And Sister Ruth was at the top of the list. It was worse that he was doing it to her because he was courting her too. Fortunately, he knew just what to do to get rid of this anxiety.
It was the last place he should go in given his disguise and the chance someone in there might recognize him, but the siren call of the liquor it held was too strong to ignore. It beckoned for him, and he answered the call.
"You here for some communion wine, Preacher?" the bartender asked, sending the saloon crowd into a round of raucous laughter. "Cause we don't serve that here."
He smiled good-naturedly. "No, whiskey."
He got the bottle and started to pop the cork, but Kid corrected him right away. "Not a glass, I want the bottle."
"For medicinal purposes then?"
"You could say that," he answered as he paid the man and left the saloon.
It was probably going to be all around the church tomorrow that the pastor drank whiskey, but he really didn't care.
He smelled it, and the smell was like a sickeningly sweet rubbing alcohol. A sip of it proved to taste worse than it smelled. It tasted like he was drinking kerosene, or at least it was how he'd guess kerosene would taste. It was definitely the cheap stuff, but it would do the job just as well. Maybe better.
sss
She was talking before he saw her.
"Joshua, I've been thinking, I don't think it'd be appropriate for me to continue coming here alo-"
No reason to wonder why she'd left the sentence unfinished. He was sitting on the floor instead of the bed with an empty bottle beside him. A hand through his hair told him it was laying every which way but straight and a look at his shirt reminded him of how he'd tried to take it off but had too much trouble with the buttons and so had buttoned back the two or three he'd managed less than successfully.
And just in case she still wondered at the state of his sobriety, he erased all doubt from her mind when he shouted, "I love you, Ruth." Probably not how a woman wanted to hear those words for the first time.
The truth was he'd forgotten again that she came to the church on Saturdays, which was strange, because she was almost all he could think about these days. If he'd remembered, he would have waited until after she left to do his drinking.
She looked gorgeous. More beautiful than usual, in fact. His blurred vision gave her an ethereal glow. "You're more beautiful than the last time I saw you."
"I'm not sure that's a compliment. Everyone looks a little better through a drunken person's eyes, I'd imagine."
He laughed. She was funny. He'd never realized how funny before. Then again maybe it was the alcohol making him laugh so hard.
And then just as suddenly as the laughter, the remorse came. "I shouldn't be here," he said, looking at the church around him.
"I don't know about that, but you shouldn't be drinking," she said sternly as she helped him up off the floor. She'd entered his bedroom, and he wondered if she even realized it.
Her hands were so small in his; they were also warm and gentle. He didn't want to let go, and she wasn't pulling away. He closed his eyes, soaking in her nearness. She must have been doing some baking earlier because she smelled like vanilla. It was driving him wild, she was driving him wild. He opened his eyes again, and there she stood, so near that stealing a kiss would have been easy and closing the little space between them even easier. And he ached to do it and not just because he was intoxicated. "You'd run right now if you knew what was good for you. I'm not a good man."
She didn't seem frightened as she looked up at him. She should have been. His chest heaved in barely controlled restraint and the backs of his knees were touching the mattress.
"You're too hard on yourself," she said, her voice so soft it was if it were caressing him. It was hypnotic, and he struggled to listen to what she was actually saying. "Everyone's done things they're not proud of. It's the choices you make now that matter. And you've made some pretty good ones lately, barring this one, of course."
He released her hands and sat down on the bed. One of those things he wasn't proud of wouldn't be giving into his baser desires at the expense of a godly woman. Giving into that kind of temptation before they were married would destroy her, especially when she found out he wasn't the man she thought he was. "What do you think of a preacher who drinks?"
"I think he's just as human as the rest of us and that he only has to give his mistakes over to God."
It may have been the booze talking, but he knew he had to tell her everything. "Ruth, I'm not really-"
"Shh," she said before he could finish. She lightly pushed back on his shoulder until he was laying down and then she covered him with the quilt. "Morning comes quicker than you think. You need to sleep this off before church."
He shut his eyes. It was probably for the best. He was feeling overwhelmingly tired, especially since his head had hit the pillows. She laid a ghost of a kiss on his forehead, and it lingered there long after she'd gone.