Falling From Grace: Student-Teacher Forbidden Romance

Chapter 18

[RECAP: Things got a little physical between Leonie and Father Gabriel at the last rehearsal...]

Gabriel was in torment. What the hell had he done?

Hell, quite literally.

He was thankful it was the end of the day and he had no more classes. At a time like this the church should have been a refuge and place of expiation. But Gabriel felt too much in violation of his religion to go there.

He was angry. Angry with himself, angry with his vows, angry with the world. He knew that what he had done partly stemmed from his anger.

For he had felt anger towards his unknown rival. The unknown boy that Leonie had confessed to having feelings for.

Rival! As if it could be termed such. He was in no position to rival anyone: he was a priest, celibate, long removed from that arena.

She had asked him a question, a simple question. Surely she had meant nothing by it? Just a line from the play.

And he had responded by grabbing her, pulling her against him. Hurting her. Had he hurt her? He had held her so hard he feared he may have bruised her.

Yet the feel of her, the scent of her hair. The soft warmth of her as he had crushed her to him. He had wanted more of her, longer with her. To be even closer to her.

Gabriel had never before understood why a man might try to force himself on a woman. Even though this was still a thing he could never do, since he had enough self-restraint for that, he now understood the urge.

That driving, all consuming desire to possess. To make his.

Barely knowing what to do, he headed into the woods behind the school. To take a walk, to get away. Though he suspected it would take more than forty days in the wilderness for him to get over this. To get it out of his system.

Holding her had only made it worse. Now his desire to be with her raged more than ever.

As he walked through the wood, absorbing its damp and wild aromas, its stillness and peace, his mind calmed. His anger gradually dissipated to regret and sorrow.

The shame did not leave him, nor the guilt. But he felt weary.

He knew that he should resign and probably go into seclusion. Get as far away from this place and the girl as possible.

But even as he thought it, he knew he was too weak. As much as it was torment to be around her, as much as seeing her every day would be a torture, he couldn't tear himself away.

*  *  *

Leonie was left standing in the empty hall. She hardly knew what had just happened to her. What had overcome them? What had made her say those terrible lines to him, a priest?

She felt sick with shame and guilt. A priest, a holy man! A man who had made sacred vows and she had tempted him to break them.

She wanted to run away. She wanted to apologise. Maybe she could just leave the school and go back to her grandmother. Make up some excuse. Write him a letter?

She couldn't cope with the oppressive feeling of the hall anymore. It felt enclosed, a place of sin and darkness.

She went outside and sat on one of the stone benches, her head in her hands. It felt as though the weight of the sky was upon her.

She was so tired.

Yet when she remembered how his hands had felt on her: even more demanding than her dream, how real his heat had been, how strong his arms, she felt a shiver of exhilaration.

A tiny, deep buried, wicked part of her wanted more.

She also wanted him. When he had called her back, been angry with her about her poor performance, there had also been concern in his eyes. He cared whether she succeeded or not. He wanted her to succeed. And not just for his sake in vindicating his decision to cast her, or for the sake of a great production.

For her.

He had seemed to like her in the initial classes and at the auditions, before he had gone strange and cold.

Maybe her confession had made him think that she was a slut? Maybe that was why he had been tempted by her?

Or was it the play? Those wild words of Abigail, her forbidden lust for her married lover echoing through time?

Proctor's lust for her, that had led to his death.

Leonie shivered. A few hundred years ago, she might well have been put to death for what she had done. Even now there were countries when merely to have been caught alone with a man might result in being stoned or imprisoned.

It was a dangerous fire she had played with. She must do what she could to quench it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time for a fire extinguisher?

Or to throw some petrol on the flames?!