Sins of the Flesh

Chapter 2 - Caleb

I stand at the church's door, shaking hands with my parishioners and accepting their compliments about my sermon and the well wishes to my family. I do this every Sunday, give my sermon to the devout. Stand at the front door and shake everyone's hand. Spend the week preparing my sermon, rinse, and repeat.

My family has overseen this church for the last 78 years—my father before me and his father before him, all priests. My life was planned out for me since before I was born. The priesthood has always been my duty as the firstborn son. I have spent 18 years performing Sunday mass, weddings, funerals, confessionals, and baptisms. I married my high school sweetheart at 20, and we had two well-rounded children together: Joshua, 21, and Ashley, who is 19. Both are currently in college pursuing their dreams. When Joshua said he didn't want to join the priesthood, unlike his grandfather, I encouraged his choice. My brother's son Bradley has chosen to do so. The legacy will continue. But I couldn't put on my son the expectations I had growing up. It's too much pressure.

I have not missed out on anything. I have a blessed life with a loving and devoted wife, wonderful children, and a lifelong career I love. Seeing the moment my message has saved a soul fills me with purpose. I just wish it wasn't so monotonous.

I shake Gregory Baker's hand. "Father, your sermon today was probably one of the best I have heard in ages." his eyes crinkle at the corner as he smiles at me. "Thank you, sir," I say, nodding. Gregory steps away, and Mrs. Abbot, a widower from the church, steps forward with a young man no more than 18 or 19 next to her, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans that seem to fit him snugly. He has blond curly hair cut short on the sides with the top longer. His cobalt blue eyes are assessing, but his smile reveals a dimple on each cheek.

I am assuming this must be her son. "Mrs. Abbot," I say, taking her tiny hand between mine. "Father Nichol's, this is Cole, my son." I nod and shake his hand. His grip is firm but not too tight. "It's nice to meet you, sir." his voice comes out confident, but his eyes don't hold that same confidence. He is nervous. "Nice to meet you, young man. Your mother tells me you are pretty handy and might be interested in doing some work for us?" "Yes, sir, if the offer is still on the table. I have done handyman work since I was 9 with my dad. He taught me a lot." I nod at him. I knew his father well. William was a very good man.

My wife, Allison, comes up beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist as I place an around her slender shoulders. "My wife, Allison, here can take you to the office to sort out the paperwork, and you can start Monday," I tell Cole. Vigorously shaking my hand, his face bright, he says, " Thank you, sir. Um, Father Nichol's." I lean in a while, still holding his hand, and whisper, "You can call me Caleb." I wink with a smile like it is our little secret and let him go. I could swear I saw a blush creep into his cheeks, but I am sure it was just an active imagination and exhaustion.