Jesuit

“When you say you responded, you did back what she was doing to you?” came the calm response.

“Yes, Father. I responded in kind. And, the thing is, I enjoyed it!”

The Jesuit spoke, still calm, unhurried: “You are forty years old, my daughter, and you will have looked back on your life. No matter how contented that life may have been, you will have felt that your freshness is beginning to pass. You will feel less attractive to the male; not quite as active as you used to be; not as quick of mind and nimbleness.”

Mary listened attentively, as did the awaiting sinners, straining their ears to the limit.

“This is a natural reaction when women reach that time in their lives. You are in the company of thousands in the same turmoil. It is like starting to — what term would you use? Court. Is that it?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued: “ You would be courting again. Young love: fresh, open and pleasant. My child, good though that may now feel, it is probably not your true self. You are human and simply reacting in a human way. God will not punish you for that. However, this is not the place to receive my fullest advice.” The Jesuit then lowered his voice a tone, effectively preventing the listeners from hearing what he now said.

“I would like to meet you privately, my child; away from here. Somewhere where your mind can relax; take in the surroundings of nature.”

Mary’s interest was aroused. “Yes, Father?”

The voice came to her like a soft breeze whisping through a tunnel. “Is there a place nearby where we can meet? Somewhere in the countryside,” he said. “With the sounds of birds, the breeze and the scent of flowers? God’s little trinkets.”

Mary knew just the place. “Yes, Father. About three miles south of here, there is a beautiful little copse.” She spoke in a voice little above a whisper. “It lies a little off the main path and the area is well signposted. It’s called Bluebell Dell. It is gorgeous.” Mary’s eyes were alight her embarrassment now vanished. “I could go there on Wednesday next, if that’s okay with you. I will have a free day then.”

“Yes. That will be fine. Could we make it around nine-thirty in the morning?”

“Yes. Yes. Whatever time is best.” Mary was now eager — another courtship, a secret tryst!

“Do not let anyone know of this, my daughter. Unfortunately, in this day and age, people are overly suspicious; see bad in everything.”

“Oh, Father, I won’t. No, no I won’t!” She wanted to please. She wanted to feel again the holy experience that was even now cocooning her body. Take me! Rape me! Abuse me! Scourge me! The thoughts flashed through her mind again — and she was not ashamed. Through the near-trance, she heard her penance announced. “Four Hail Mary’s and the Rosary once. Go in peace.”

Mary now looked fearlessly at the plaster crucifix. It’s eyes were still sad, but no longer searching her soul. She blessed herself, noting the tiny trickle of blood that seeped from both her hands where she had gripped the beads too tightly, and left the confessional.

As she shuffled past the waiting people, she was smiling. A great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. As she passed the first person, a woman in her sixties, she was acutely aware of the steely glare, the unyielding look of condemnation. The woman rose, almost pushing Mary onto the wooden seat, as she entered the booth. The next person, a woman around her own age, craned her head to glance slyly, a look of disgust in her expression. Mary continued along the row. The next person was a boy of around twelve, who, red-faced, smirked as he attempted not to laugh aloud. He would now have a further sin to confess!

Mary then passed an attractive woman, clothed in a rather inappropriate red dress that clung to her, pronouncing every curve. She would be around thirty years of age. The lush, dark hair swung to one side as she looked Mary full in the face. The woman was smiling and looking deeply into her. The look was unmistakable. She was interested in the same way as had been her friend, Jacqui.

Squeezing past the woman, undeniably enjoying the closeness of the flesh as their bodies were pressed together, Mary at last reached the aisle. She moved to a vacant pew and knelt to carry out her penance.

CHAPTER NINE

That evening, back in his motor home, having enjoyed a thoroughly satisfying meal with Father Rafferty, Ignatious settled down to ponder the words of wisdom and advice he was to give to the wretched sinner whom he had arranged to meet. He lay, fully clothed on the comfortable bed and closed his eyes.

He would listen again to the woman’s feelings and obtain the real truth from her. Her experience would be lodged in his brain, filed in its own compartment, contributing to the unending dossier of life that he had assembled through the years. His advice would be absolutely correct; he never made mistakes in that department. His holy presence would render the sinner incapable of any resistance to him or his words. She would be comforted, forgiven, absolved. He would suggest that, as she had encountered lesbian feelings, she should make contact with the holy Virgin Mary; confide in Her, accept Her embrace. Then he would send the woman to Her.

After an hour of pondering and considering options, Ignatious undressed and lay, naked, beneath the single cotton sheet. The night was sultry and sweat broke out over his body. Again, he closed his eyes, tenderly squeezing his manhood, enjoying the pleasantness. He did not see this as sinful, it was a natural action and not to be degraded into such a category, as The Church so easily did.

He did not sleep immediately as his mind wandered. Back, back in time to the Mission he had been selected for, under the guidance of the experienced priest, Father Jonathan Peter Christian, a tough, 43 year-old veteran.

Arriving in Brazil by air, the small group, consisting of four men and two women, were welcomed by a priest, Father Vincento Aloise, who drove them in a rickety, ancient truck, to his church nearby. They sat on roughly made wooden benches that had been fitted down each side of the vehicle, and the canvas covering flapped about wildly as they travelled, due to it being rotted with age and years of heavy rain. The amount of canvas remaining would offer no protection against the elements and would have been better removed.

After being introduced to the two other priests of the parish, whom they met lounging against the church entrance, both smoking long, dark coloured cigarettes of an unknown brand, they were ushered into Father Aloise’s private quarters. The group was a little surprised at the good size and cleanliness of the place, somehow expecting wooden seats on a straw and dirt floor. Why, no one could have explained. The exception to this view was Father Christian, who had visited this church on four previous occasions.

After a very good, wholesome meal, the accommodation was sorted. The men shared an adequate apartment, situated in the rear yard of the church, whilst the two nuns were placed in a smaller apartment in the same courtyard.

The two who formed the group apart from Christian and Saviour, were Father Thomas Lassiter, a young man of twenty-three years, who hailed from Australia, and Father Gerard Ottomier, an American from Detroit, thirty years of age.

Sister Evangelica, a young Englishwoman of twenty-five, had been a nun for five years and this was her first sortie abroad. She had learned comprehensive medical skills and was considered to be a useful asset in the remote areas into which she was to travel. She was looking forward to the venture with eager anticipation.

Evangelica’s companion, sister Dolorita Vasquez was a nun with two years full experience. Under the severe habit, she was a pretty, dark-skinned Brazilian, 24 years old, who had gone to England for training in nursing and languages. She had passed the courses with flying colours. Like Evangelica, she was excitedly anticipating the task ahead.

At five-thirty, the following morning, a raggedly dressed young boy of about eleven years of age, ran around waking up the group so that they would not be too late in setting off on their mission up the River Amazon. The boy entered the female accommodation quite unabashed and shook the ladies vigorously until their eyes shot open. Yelling something unrecognisable to them, he shot out like a rabbit and disappeared through the now open courtyard gates.

Ignatious’s eyes opened wide but saw nothing. His body functioned but his brain was locked in a time past, in a world far away. The eyes closed again, aiding the restful period.