"John, what's the matter?" Mildred asked with concern, reaching to touch his shoulder.
It was the evening that she had heard of George's impending homecoming, but - as was now so routine - Mildred had still gone to John, although she didn't find him in his usual state.
It was the first time she could remember that he had not come to greet her the instant she snuck into the rectory via the back door. In fact, he didn't even stand at her presence, let alone hungrily claim her lips with his the way she had grown used to. Instead, he remained seated on the sofa, bible at his side and rosary in hand.
He glanced up at her briefly as she reached out to him, standing without a reply. Sighing, Mildred sat on the now empty loveseat and watched him as he paced, worrying, his rosary still threaded between his fingers.
John had found the news of George's return unsettling. While he felt a little easier upon finding out that Mildred's husband would just be there on temporary leave, the prospect of him coming home still brought up a lot of uncomfortable thoughts and feelings, ones he had managed to push down into the dark recesses of his mind until now.
"It's just I worry," John finally said, stopping his pacing to stand and face Mildred, although he still lacked the courage to meet her inquisitive gaze. "I worry that I've…" He took a breath. "That I've taken advantage of you."
Mildred shook her head furiously. "You know that's not true."
"Your husband's away, you're vulnerable…" John shook his head, sighing as he finally sat beside her, crumpled in defeat of his own emotions. "Even outside of the vow of celibacy that I made to the church, my job is to care for you, to look after you, and I've…abused that."
"John," she said, putting her hand on his arm, "I chose to do this too." She smiled weakly as she took in the guilt and worry on his face. "I wanted you too. I love you."
He nodded solemnly, letting out a breath of relief. "I know, I know. I love you, too. So much…" He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips and kissed it. "So much that it makes me question myself."
"I know." She touched his face and kissed him tenderly. "But my love for you is real," she assured him, having questioned her own feelings enough to know, "and your love for me is real. Maybe it didn't happen in the best way or at the best time-"
John nodded, laughing a little as he wiped at his eyes lest any tears escape.
"But it's real," Mildred continued, her own eyes glassy. "Our love is real." Nodding in agreement, John pulled her to him fiercely.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair. "I love you," he whispered, pulling back and kissing forehead. "I love you," he repeated, this time kissing her closed eyelids. "I love you," he continued, this time kissing her nose. "I love you, so much," he finally proclaimed before kissing her lips.
Inevitably, they moved into the bedroom, and after John had unbuttoned Mildred's blouse, he reached for the zip on her skirt only for her to stop him.
"No," she said, mustering a small amount of self control.
John froze, wounded and mortified that he had somehow misunderstood. "I'm sorry, I-"
"No, it's not that I don't want you," Mildred said with the kind of reassuring smile that reached all the way to her eyes. "Just…I want to show you… Let me show you how much I want you. Please."
"OK," John agreed with relief, remembering her promise from the day before, although that now somehow felt like weeks earlier instead of hours.
After removing his shirt and encouraging him to slip out of his pants, Mildred proceeded to kiss her way down his chest, his hips already twitching in response. When she got to his groin, she paused.
"I've erm…never done this before." She blushed shyly. "So if it's…if it's bad, let me know."
"Millie," John said with a warm smile, reaching down and tilting her chin so she looked at him, "nothing you could ever do would be bad."
Reassured, Mildred gained the courage to reach out and slide John's underwear past his hips and down his legs. She could see he was more than ready, with even the tentative first brush of her fingers against him making his breath catch in his throat.
She touched him, familiarising herself with his feel and shape before placing a cautious kiss to the head.
"Oh God," John uttered breathlessly. She had never heard him take the Lord's name in vain before and there was something thrilling about this situation being the thing that tipped him over the edge.
She took the tip in her mouth, gradually taking in more of him. There was no way she would be able to take him all she realised, so instead her fingers encircled the remainder at the base. She took John's throaty moans as encouragement that she was doing something right, so she proceeded to suck gently, carefully.
"Oh," he gasped, and glancing up Mildred saw his eyes closed in ecstasy. "You should," he gently encouraged her to move away, so she removed her mouth and instead took him in her hand. "I'm not going to be able to," he gasped. "Millie, I'm going to-"
She watched him cum, oddly fascinated by the spectacle as the fluid streaked out.
"I'll go and clean up," John told her with a blush once he had come back to reality.
By the time he returned from the bathroom, Mildred had already slipped under the covers, and after climbing in, John nuzzled against her. She hummed in contentment, her eyes closed, but was taken by surprise when she felt him kiss her deeply - a promise of more. When his lips moved to her jaw and then her neck before going lower, she knew what he was planning.
"John, you don't have to-" she began, fighting against her desire for him to continue, but worrying that he felt obligated.
He paused, looking up at her and touching her face so she would look at him. "Let me show you how much I want you, too."
Mildred smiled and nodded. Satisfied, John continued his ministrations, the opened mouthed kisses he placed on her inner thighs making the heat pool rapidly between her legs. She shuddered when his mouth finally reached where she desired it most.
It may have only been his second time performing the act, but she could tell he had remembered how her body had twitched and shaken, knowing more accurately where to place his tongue and how to use it. She came more suddenly than the night before - the orgasm almost taking her by surprise - but with an intensity that was equally powerful.
"You're getting good at that," she joked as they lay side-by-side, both blissfully content.
"There's always room for improvement," he teased. "So I think I'll just have to keep practising."
Mildred chuckled, enjoying this lighter side to their relationship, and for a brief moment, she forgot about God and husbands and even Crockett Island. They lay quietly in the dark, facing each other, John's fingers absentmindedly stroking the curve of her body with an easy, unconscious intimacy.
"We can still see each other when he's home, but I won't be able to come to you, not in the evenings, not like this," she told John as her thoughts returned to the inevitable.
"I know," he whispered. "That's OK, we'll get through it. It's not forever. "
The corners of Mildred's mouth attempted a smile, but her eyes remained sad in the knowledge that one day George's return would be permanent.
The next two weeks went quicker than either Mildred or John wanted them to. While they maintained their now regular clandestine routine, Mildred used her free time to make sure her and George's house was as good as it could be, even making a new pair of curtains for the living room from some beautiful new material she found on the mainland. She made sure she had all of George's favourite foods in too, going so far as to try three stores before she found the exact brand of mustard she knew he liked.
John knew the ferry George was getting the day of his return, and he knew that Mildred would be waiting at the dock for him. He also knew that it was his duty as the island priest to welcome a man home from war, no matter how much he wanted to pretend the whole thing wasn't happening at all.
He stood next to Mildred as they watched the boat approach, the water choppy and the air bitingly cold. John made sure to keep a safe two metre distance from the woman he loved so he wouldn't reach out and touch her, but he ached to take her hand in his own and comfort her; she looked so uneasy, so lost and overtaken by worry.
Once the ferry had docked, John watched Mildred's reaction as the people alighted, knowing immediately when she saw it was her husband from the bracing breath she took and the smile she painted on.
John supposed there were pictures of George throughout his and Mildred's home - wedding photos and the like - but had never gone any further than the porch to see them. Mildred had never explicitly told him that he couldn't come in, but he felt the invisible boundary, felt that Mildred decided that at least George's home should remain his own to come home to, even if his wife's heart now belonged to another man.
Regardless, the approximation he had in his mind of George's appearance was fairly close to the truth: fair haired and clean shaven, he was stockier than John, and while not short, he was still a few inches shorter than the priest.
"Hi Millie," George said roughly as he leaned in to hug her, allowing a small amount of affection showing through.
John watched, flinching when he heard George address Mildred by her nickname. It was stupid of him to imagine he was the only man who called her that - George was her husband after all - but still, it smarted.
"Welcome home, George," Mildred replied, kissing him awkwardly on the cheek.
"And you must be…" George said, turning to John before pausing to think for a second. "Father Pruitt, isn't it?"
"That's right," John told him with a nod, putting out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Gunning."
"Call me George," he replied, giving John a brief but hardy handshake. "It's nice to finally put a face to a name, Millie's mentioned you so much in her letters."
"Mil-" John began before he thought to correct himself "Your wife is an asset to the church, I'd truly be lost without her."
The double meaning of John's words was not lost on Mildred, who stood between the two men with a tight smile and a slightly flushed complexion. "You must be starving," she told her husband brightly. "I've made your favourite, beef stew."
"I'll have to come home from war every day, hey Father?" he joked rhetorically to John, who just offered a slightly uneasy smile at the joke in return.
John watched as the pair walked off into the distance, George with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and Mildred beside him, close but not too close. She looked back just before she and George disappeared from sight, giving John a smile so sad that his stomach dropped in response.
John didn't sleep much that night, but it was because of more than just the visions of Mildred with her husband that ran through his head. He missed her presence; while she could never stay the whole night, having her there for just those precious hours made him feel less empty, like he was a person outside of just being a servant for God.
"Millie," he beamed when he entered the church the next morning.
"John," she smiled, standing to greet him.
After a moment's deliberation, he threw caution to the wind and embraced her, right there in the aisle.
"John," Mildred said blushing as she pulled back. "Anyone could come in, we must be careful."
"I know, I know," he agreed, guiding her to sit with him in the pew where they always did. "How…how was it? I mean," he shook his head. "How is he?"
"He…he seemed fine at first, on the surface, but…he's-he's different, quieter," Mildred said with a sigh. "He doesn't want to talk. I don't know what he's seen, but it's changed him. There's a…darkness there."
John nodded, he'd dealt with enough men coming home from war to know what she meant. "He should come to mass, or even confession," he offered. "I can offer him counsel." He knew it was the right thing to offer, it was his job as a priest to look after the residents of the island, but from a conflicting personal standpoint, he hated the idea of even being in the same room as George, never mind offering him advice. He was all too aware that these kinds of conflict of interest were one of the reasons priests were forced to take a vow of celibacy in the first place.
"Thank you," Mildred told him gratefully, fully aware of how hard it must have been for him to make the offer. "I'll do my best, but he's… He was never exactly devout, but he seems even more…disconnected from God now. I can tell he's been drinking more too," she said with a sigh. "I don't like it but I don't know how to stop him. He downed half a bottle of whiskey last night just to sleep."
"Is he…" John took a deep breath. "Has he been violent with you? Because if-"
"Oh no," Mildred shook her head. "Nothing like that, but it seems like he's," she sighed, "fighting a battle in his mind and he doesn't want me in there."
"Hmm," John agreed solemnly. "It can be difficult for men to adjust when they come home."
"Last night, we…" Mildred bit her lip, reluctant to say the words. "Well we, George and I, we-"
"I understand," John interjected, fully aware of what she was trying to communicate, equally as reluctant to hear the words come from mouth. "He's…" He swallowed. "He's your husband, after all."
Mildred nodded, looking down. "I know, I know that but it felt like…a betrayal."
John shook his head and took her hand in his, soothingly rubbing his thumb across the back of it. "It's OK."
"The thing is, it wasn't…it isn't how it is with us." She took a deep breath. "It's wicked of me, but the whole time I was thinking of you. I was wishing he was you. I just feel so disconnected from him."
He squeezed her hand. "He's only here for another week," he said, repeating what he'd been telling himself for the last 24 hours.
"I know," Mildred accepted. "But one day, he'll come home for good."
The days passed and John had to guiltily admit to herself the relief he had felt when Mildred had attended Sunday mass alone. Given there was only one day left until George was due to return to Vietnam, John thought he'd gotten away with having very minimal contact with the man - until an unfamiliar voice and the scent of Malboros filtered through the divide of the confessional.
"Welcome, my child," John told George routinely.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned, it has been…" George paused, thinking, then laughed. "It has been I don't even know how long since my last confession…four or maybe even five years."
"It is never too late to find God again," John assured him calmly. "What is it you wish to speak of today?"
"As you know, I've been at war. I've committed terrible acts of violence. I've…" George paused. "I've killed men," he uttered with shame.
"But if there is harm, then you shall pay life for life," John quoted. He had been thinking of it for days, ever since Mildred had shared with him the darkness she now saw in her husband, knowing he might have to offer the words as some comfort.
"But I've killed…innocent people. Women and children have died because of me,"
"Innocent lives must sometimes be lost for the greater good, if that's part of God's plan."
George snorted. "'God's plan'? You're telling me those people were meant to die? That's bullshit. You don't believe it anymore than I do."
John remained silent, sensing there was more George wanted to say.
"I killed people and I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life," he said with a bitter laugh. "I knew this was stupid, I only came because Millie wanted me to. Maybe God will judge me at the end of my life, but he sure as shit ain't here for me now."
John heard rustling on George's side of the box indicating he was leaving. "Mr. Gunning-" he started, but it was too late, he could hear the man walking away and a few seconds later, the church door slamming behind him.