Sacred Sins

stared back at her. Then the mirror melted away into another corridor.
    So she ran on, taking the straight path. The weight of the briefcase hurt her arms, but she pulled it with her. Muscles strained and burned. Then she saw the door. Almost sobbing with relief, she dragged herself to it. Locked. She looked desperately for the key. There was always a key. But the knob turned slowly from the other side.
    “Ben.” Weak with relief, she reached out a hand for him to help her over that final step to safety. But the figure was black and white.
    The black cassock, the white collar. The white silk of the amice. She saw it come up, knotted like pearls, and reach for her throat. Then she started to scream.
    “Tess. Tess, come on, baby, wake up.”
    She was gasping, reaching up for her throat as she dragged herself out of the dream.
    “Relax.” His voice came calm and soothing out of the dark. “Just breathe deep and relax. I'm right here.”
    She clung hard, with her face pressed into Ben's shoulder. As his hands moved up and down her back, she fought to focus on them and let the dream fade.

    “I'm sorry,” she managed when she caught her breath. “It was just a dream. I'm sorry.”
    “Must have been a beaut.” Gently, he brushed the hair from her face. Her skin was clammy. Ben pulled the covers up and wrapped them around her. “Want to tell me about it?”
    “Just overworked.” She drew her knees up to rest her elbows on them.
    “Want some water?”
    “Yes, thanks.”
    She rubbed her hands over her face as she listened to the tap run in the bathroom. He left the light on so that it slanted through the door. “Here you go. You have nightmares often?”
    “No.” She sipped to ease her dry throat. “I had some after my parents died. My grandfather would come in and sit with me, and fall asleep in the chair.”
    “Well, I'll sit with you.” After he got into bed again, he put an arm around her. “Better?”
    “A lot. I guess I feel stupid.”
    “Wouldn't you say, psychiatrically speaking, that under certain circumstances it's healthy to be scared?”
    “I suppose I would.” She let her head rest on his shoulder. “Thanks.”
    “What else is bothering you?”
    She took a last sip of water before setting the glass aside. “I was making an effort not to let it show.”
    “Didn't work. What is it?”
    Tess sighed and stared at the slant of light on the bedroom floor. “I have a patient. Or I had one, anyway. This young boy, fourteen, alcoholic, severe depression, suicidal tendencies. I wanted his parents to put him into a clinic in Virginia.”
    “They won't go for it.”

    “Not only that, but he missed his session today. I called, got the mother. She tells me that she feels Joey's progressing just fine. She didn't want to discuss the clinic, and she's going to let him take a breather from his sessions. There's nothing I can do. Nothing.” It was that, most of all, that had slapped her down. “She won't face the fact that he isn't progressing. She loves him, but she's put blinders on so she doesn't have to see anything that isn't in straight focus. I've been slapping a Band-Aid on him every week, but the wound's not healing.”
    “You can't make her bring the boy in. Maybe a breather will help. Let the wound get some air.”
    “I wish I could believe that.”
    It was the tone of her voice that made him shift, and bring her closer. When he'd woken to her screams, his blood had run cold. Now it was pumping warm again. “Look, Doc, both of us are in the business where we can lose people. It's the kind of thing that wakes you up at three in the morning, has you staring at walls or out windows. Sometimes you've just got to turn it off. Just turn the switch.”
    “I know. Rule number one is professional detachment.” His hair brushed her cheek as she turned her face to his. “What turns the switch best for you?”
    In the shadowed light she saw him grin. “You really want to know?”
    “Yes.” She ran a hand down his side until it rested comfortably at his hip. “Right now I especially want to know.”
    “This usually works.” In one easy move he rolled her on top of him. He felt the give of firm breasts pressing against him, smelled the fragrance of her hair as it curtained his face. He took a handful and brought her mouth down to his.

    How well she seemed to fit. The thought ran through his head. The brush of her fingertips on his skin was like a blessing. There was something about her