Chapter Eight

"Thank you for seeing me, Padre Estefan. I... really didn't know who else I could talk to."

"That is one of the reasons I am here. Go on, my child."

Susan twisted her scarf in her hands and looked at the worn inlaid floor of the sanctuary. Sunlight slanting through the slatted windows shone stripes on the stone. Dust motes like tiny fireflies winked on and off as they floated through the planes of light and shadow.

"I recently married a man. And... I want to know if I did the right thing."

"Do you love him?"

"Oh, I do," she said, looking up again at the priest. "At least, it feels like I do. He's a good man, and he loves me."

"But now you are having doubts?"

"Not about our love. But... yes."

"You're wondering if marriage is for you?"

"No," she replied. "But I wonder if it wasn't too soon."

"How long have you known each other?"

"Two days."

"Two days!"

"We met in a pub, and spent the night together, and in the morning when the church opened, we persuaded Padre Hernandez to marry us."

There was a pregnant silence. "Was there some reason why this wedding had to be so sudden?"

Susan looked confusedly at him for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Oh, no, nothing like that!" she protested. "We didn't... in fact, we still haven't."

"So the marriage has not been consummated?"

"N-no." She shook her head.

"So when you say you 'spent the night together'..."

"I meant, talking. We danced at the pub, had dinner, walked on the beach, watched the sun rise from the scenic overlook. But we didn't... do anything else. I wouldn't."

"Good. That's important, if you intend to seek an annullment."

Susan looked shocked. "An annullment? That's not what I want! That's not why I'm here."

Father Estefan leaned his elbows on his desk and folded his fingertips like a tent. "Then why are you here?" he asked.

"Well, our marriage was so quick, I didn't exactly get to know everything about him," she said. "There was... important information he didn't bring up, and..." She took a deep breath. "I've always dreamed of getting married to a good man, raising a family, but under these circumstances, I can't. It almost makes me feel as if, I don't know... we were married under false pretenses."

The priest waved a hand as if groping for a word. "He is... unable to perform as a husband?"

"Oh, dios, no!" Susan flushed a bright red. "At least, I don't know. We didn't... I mean, that's not why. It was because I was upset with him. I didn't want to."

"Why don't you tell me what has you so upset, then?"

Susan rose and began to pace the floor. "I agreed to leave my home, a very nice government house near my work, to live with him. But he didn't tell me..." She spread her hands helplessly. "He lives in a shack! A rusty tin shack, no bigger than this room. No running water, no stove, holes in the walls that let the wind blow the rain through. I can't bring a child into this world to live in a shack!"

"And did you tell him how upset this makes you?"

"He answered that he was not going to live off his wife's income, and that it was only a temporary situation until he could get a job more suitable for someone of his social class and provide for me."

"It does sound like he wants the best for you," the priest offered.

"The best for me? Living in a tin shack with old tires on top to keep the roof from blowing away is the best for me? He could have moved into my house if only he'd said something. But he didn't because of his stupid pride."

Father Estefan clucked his tongue. "That's an uncharitable assessment," he said. "Isn't it possible that he sincerely wants to do the proper thing and provide for you himself?"

"'Proper'? How about providing me with a house with proper plumbing and a proper stove to cook on?"

"If you don't want to listen to me, and you don't want an annullment, then I don't know what you expect of me."

"I was hoping for an understanding ear, maybe a little support!" she spat.

"As I said at the beginning of this conversation, that is why I am here," he said. "But if by 'support' you mean someone to tell you 'you are right and he is wrong,' that is not why I am here. I would remind you that however hurried or inadvisable your nuptials may have been, you did take an oath to honor and obey your husband, for better or worse, for richer or for poorer. Those are not just words we say because we expect the 'for worse' or 'for poorer' parts will never come. Those are sacred vows made before God."

He shook his head. "And if what you are asking of me is permission to break those vows, I'm afraid I cannot help you."

Susan stood like a statue for a moment, buffeted by the storm of the priest's chastisement. Then, wordlessly, she snatched up her white helmet and stormed out of the church, her heels ringing on the cold, unyielding stone floor.

To Be Continued