Tempting Daddy by Ava Sinclair
Chapter Twelve
Carmen
I don’t look different. The face in the mirror is the same. I peer and squint, trying to see myself as another might. I search my eyes for some tell-tale knowing gleam of the newly deflowered.
It’s such an odd word, deflowered, as if virginity is a thing to be plucked. Between my legs, the soreness is receding. In a day or two, the tenderness will be gone altogether, a fact that nearly moves me to tears. I want to hurt. I want to be sore. He gave me this pain. It’s mine, and I don’t want to let it go, even though I know I must.
“Carmen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine…” I almost follow this with Father, but still can’t bring myself to call him that. I’m not ashamed that he was my first. But I’d already been awake for two hours before dawn thinking on the man sleeping beside me, and how what had happened between us could upend his world.
I pull my panties on under my skirt. I’d washed them in the sink and hung them over the shower rod to dry. The last time I’d put these panties on, I was a virgin.
I check my reflection in the mirror once more before opening the door. Father Dominic is still standing there looking handsome and fretful.
“You really don’t have to worry about me,” I say.
“It’s my nature, little one.”
“I know. You’re a priest. You worry about everyone.”
“Not like I worry about you.” His hand moves to my face and my heart soars. I thought this morning would find him reserved as he began the practical chore of distancing himself from me ahead of returning to the life he has to lead. But he’s not. If anything, the protective tenderness I’m so hungry for feels stronger than ever.
“I made breakfast,” he says. “And I heard your phone ringing when you were in the shower.”
“Oh no. My mom.” I cover my mouth with my hand, realizing I haven’t talked to her since right after the storm began. I retrieve my phone from the pocket of my coat hanging on the rack. She answers on the first ring.
“Carmen, thank goodness. Is everything okay there? Does the rectory have power?”
“Yes, Mom. Why? Do you?”
“No,” she says. “I had to fire up the wood furnace in the basement. Thank goodness there’s still some wood.”
“Why did you do it?” I ask. “Where’s Dad?”
“He didn’t come home. I thought he might be able to make it home since he has snow chains in his trunk, but I guess he didn’t want to put them on.” She grows quiet. “How are you? Has Father Dominic been good company?”
I shift from one foot to the other, aware of the fading tenderness between my thighs.
“He’s been very nice,” I say.
“Good. Please tell him how much I appreciate him taking care of you. I felt like I was letting you down, not being able to make it there, but maybe it’s for the best with the power out here.”
I think of her, all alone in the large cold house, and feel sad.
“Have you talked to Dad this morning?” I ask.
“No.”
“He hasn’t called to check on you?”
When she doesn’t reply, I regret asking the question. Of course, he hasn’t called. He probably hasn’t even thought about her.
“I tried to reach him, but Mindy said he was busy. I’m sure he’s just making sure everything is okay at the company. There’s likely a lot of rearranging of deliveries and the like to be done.”
“Yeah, but that’s what he’s got Mindy for,” I say. “He should be home. How much wood is left?”
“Enough,” she says, but there’s doubt in her voice, and after we’ve said our goodbyes, I worry my bottom lip with my teeth and stare at the phone before calling my father’s office.
“Angelo Fine Furnishings, how can I help you?”
I’m surprised to hear my father’s secretary.
“Hello, Mindy,” I say. “This is Carmen Angelo. Is my father there?”
“He is, but he’s busy.”
“Could you please put him on? Tell him it’s urgent.”
“He’s out on the floor, Carmen. Can I give him a message?”
I bite my tongue. I’ve heard my mother talking to Mindy more than once since I’ve been home and practically pleading with her to have my father call her. I think of my mother in the cold house, snow piled up at the door with no heat and her firewood running out.
“No, Mindy,” I say. “I need to talk to my father now. It’s an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“The kind that’s none of your business. I need to speak to my father. Now.”
Mindy doesn’t immediately answer. When she does, her tone is curt and cold. “Please hold and I’ll see if I can get him.”
“Is everything okay?” Father Dominic walks over, and I realize the irritation I feel is showing on my face.
As I explain the situation, he listens with a furrowed brow. I begin to pace, feeling angry and helpless. My mother has always been reluctant to intercede on my behalf where my father is concerned, but I see the hurt in her eyes when he insults me. It scares me sometimes to think that my father is seeking to make me subservient, too. But standing up to him yesterday has made me feel empowered. And last night… I’m not a child now. I’m a woman, and I feel better able to speak to my father as an adult, especially with Dominic at my side.
“Carmen, what’s the meaning of this?” A jolt of uncertainty runs through me when my father’s booming voice comes on the line. “Mindy said you were rude to her?”
I pause, uncertainty replaced by indignation. “Mindy’s opinion isn’t important, Dad. Have you talked to Mom?”
“No,” he says. “And why are you asking, anyway? Where are you?”
“At the rectory,” I say. “Mom couldn’t get me last night and she couldn’t reach you so Father Dominic let me stay in the guest room. I just talked to Mom and she said the power’s out. She’s been using the wood furnace but she’s almost out of wood. You have chains on your truck. Can’t you go home and get her and take her to work with you or…”
“You think your mom is the only person in town who’s cold and without power? It won’t kill her. The roads will be cleared by tonight, and I’ve got things to do here.”
I hear Mindy say something in the background but can’t make out what it is.
“And let me tell you something. There’s only one person at this company who gives orders, young lady. It’s me. When the roads clear, I’ll be out all right, but it won’t be to go home. It’ll be to go to that rectory and take you off Father Dominic’s hands. Then we’re coming back here where you’re going to personally apologize to Mindy before we have a little talk about that incident at the church meeting yesterday. I haven’t forgotten what happened.”
“Neither have I,” I shoot back. “And I’m not about to apologize to Mindy.”
“We’ll see about that,” he growls.
Father reaches out then, and I hesitantly hand him the phone.
“Mr. Angelo,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind my taking over the conversation for your daughter, but she’s clearly upset and I was wondering if there was something I can do.”
I can hear my father’s voice on the other end of the line. He launches into a diatribe of criticism, his words loud enough to be audible. He accuses my mother of being high maintenance and helpless and brands me as disobedient, but Father isn’t having it.
“Hold on,” he says. “I know the storm creates stress, but your wife needs you, Mr. Angelo. And I know your daughter to be a kind and respectful young lady. She only called you out of worry for her mother, and as your priest, I expect you as a deacon to see to the well-being of your family as God intended.”
For a moment, I think my father has hung up. Then his voice is lower and I can’t make out the words anymore, but the set of Father’s jaw leads me to believe what he’s saying isn’t good.
“Well, Mr. Angelo, if that’s your position then I’ll see if I can’t call upon some other men of the church to go look after your wife. As for your threats, Carmen is an adult, and it is her decision to remain employed here, not yours. She’ll resign if she wants to, and I don’t see her doing that.” Father falls quiet again.
“Well, I think that’s for the best. I’m sure your wife will appreciate your going home to check on her as a godly husband should. And of course, you can pick Carmen up this evening if that’s what she wants.”
My heart sinks when I hear this. Father says his goodbyes and clicks off the phone, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I don’t want to encourage disrespect, Carmen, but your father is a very unpleasant man.”
“I know.” I sigh. “Thank you.”
He holds out the phone and I take it. It’s still warm from his hand.
“He wants me to quit working for you?” I ask.
“He’s angry. He told me you weren’t working for me anymore. I told him it was your choice.”
“I heard. I appreciate it.” I pause. “I was thinking, though…” I stop, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “After last night, maybe it’s best if I leave. If I stay as your secretary, it’ll be awkward to just pretend what happened last night didn’t happen.”
“Is that what you were planning to do, Carmen? Pretend it didn’t happen?”
I look up at him, surprised by the comment. “Wasn’t that what you were going to do?”
He steps over to me. “No, little one. Because it did happen. The church is full of priests who do so much worse and then hide what happened.”
“What are you saying?” I ask. “You have to be celibate to be a priest.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give you what you need, Carmen. Last night was special. I don’t regret it, even if I must atone for the sin of breaking my vows. The trust that made you feel safe enough to give yourself to me isn’t something I take lightly, nor is it something I will betray. Do you remember what you called me before you drifted off to sleep last night?”
I flush scarlet and nod. “Yes. I called you Daddy.”
“Daddy.” He puts his hand to my chin and tilts it up. “I know what that word means to you. It’s safety and accountability and caring and guidance. I can’t give you sex, not as long as I serve as parish priest. But I can give you the experience of having the kind of Daddy you need. I want to fulfill your needs to the best of my ability without breaking my vows. I don’t want you to leave, Carmen. I want to keep you working at St. Thomas, not just because I enjoy your company but because I want to take care of you.”
My heart swells and tears blur my eyes.
“You don’t owe me anything for my virginity, Father. I promise I’m not going to say anything.”
“Is that what you think this is about, Carmen? That I’m offering my attention as some kind of consolation prize to keep you quiet?” He shakes his head. “Do you understand how hurtful that is?”
“Hurtful? You think I’m trying to hurt you?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t think it’s intentional, but to insinuate that I’m worried you’ll say something and would be kind to keep you quiet is exactly that. I may be a bad priest, but I’m not a bad man.”
“You’re not a bad priest, either,” I say, and cover my face with my hands. I take a deep breath before dropping them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that my father always said once a man has had his way with a girl...”
He reaches for me, taking me by the arm.
“Don’t,” he says, his stern tone sending a fresh and oddly intense tingle through me. “Don’t quote your father’s bile in my presence. Don’t quote him to yourself. Don’t let his negative dialogue affect you. If you do it again, I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
Father Dominic’s eyes are stern and hard. They are the eyes of a strict daddy, the gaze one I’ve always fantasized about, a caring father figure stepping in with guidance.
“I’ll punish you,” he says and there’s no humor in his tone, just a caring firmness that sends a tingle through my body.
