Divine Temptation Read Online Free PDF Page B

florescent lighting to wash away the blackness, Father Tom turned on a single table lamp. He then pulled a key from his pocket and fitted it into a cabinet at the back of the room over a narrow counter and small sink.
    “I ran into Monsignor Sarto at the greenhouse today,” Maggie said. “He said I should talk to you about some changes to the archeology presentation.”
    Glass clinked as Father Tom pulled two tumblers and a decanter from the cabinet. “I’m afraid it’s no longer an archeology presentation.”
    “What? He changed the whole thing?”
    Father Tom filled one of the glasses half way with a tawny liquid. “Don’t get yourself worked up. We’ll reschedule my original presentation for the summer. And the new topic is not an unworthy one.”
    “But what about all the information we’ve put out there about an archeological talk? Aren’t people going to notice if the topic’s completely changed?”
    “Thus far no one outside the parish has registered, so a simple announcement of the change at the end of Masses and a blurb in the bulletin should be just fine.” He tilted the decanter toward the other glass.
    “None for me,” Maggie said, remembering how her throat had burned after the last time she’d accepted a drink from Father Tom. “But thank you. So what’s the new topic?”
    “The armor of God. Monsignor Sarto seems to think we could all use a refresher on steeling ourselves against Satan.” Father Tom sighed, and Maggie didn’t like the forlorn sound of it. He settled into the leather armchair with his glass not leaving his hand, but not touching his lips either. The drink took on a reddish cast directly under the dim blaze of the lamp. “You have something else you’d like to talk about,” he stated.
    “Yes. But it can wait.”
    “Sit down, Maggie.” He tilted his head toward the overstuffed leather chair on the opposite side of the coffee table. Maggie lowered herself into the seat, but stayed on the edge with her legs tensed. “What’s on your mind, dear?”
    “I’ve been thinking about an annulment again.”
    Father Tom nodded and tapped his finger on the edge of his glass. “What’s changed since last year when you decided against pursuing it?”
    “Nothing…and everything. I still can’t see ever getting remarried myself, but Carl’s been seeing someone, and it seems serious. I know he doesn’t buy into the Church’s position on divorce and adultery—he’s satisfied that a civil divorce was enough to free us both to remarry and doesn’t see the need for a decree of nullity. But I guess I buy into it enough to think I should reconsider setting him free in the eyes of the Church too, should that become important to him down the road.”
    “Nullifying a marriage is more than just a matter of wanting it. As we discussed before, the tribunal would need proof that at least one of you entered into the marriage without proper intention to either stay faithful or procreate.”
    This was the point on which Maggie had stumbled and given up last time. She hadn’t wanted to face the possibility that her marriage had never been what it had seemed. “I think a case could be made that Carl never intended to stay faithful, or, at least, was ambivalent about it on our wedding day.”
    Father Tom set his glass down and folded his fingers together, resting his joined hands on his portly stomach. “You were married for twelve years before his indiscretion.”
    “Before he confessed to indiscretion. Who knows how many others there may have been?”
    “He told you there’ve been none. Do you not believe him?”
    She hesitated before answering. “I do.” But she’d also believed him when he’d told her he was working late, or that he was going on a fishing weekend with the guys. Even if she could’ve brought herself to forgive him, she knew she’d never forget. Every time he was out of her sight, she’d have doubts about what he was really doing. She couldn’t have lived