Joan grabbed the knob and the bathroom door and, as slowly and as quietly as she could, turned the handle. She eased the door open just a crack and peeked out. She did not see anyone in the hallway. So she opened the door a little wider. If she were to go down the hall to the left, that would take her into the living room where the front entrance was. But the living room was also where Father Ben would be waiting for her.
If she were to instead turn right, that would take her into the kitchen and the back door, which led out into the churchyard. If Joan were to take that route, she would have to hope that the doors to the church were unlocked. Otherwise there would be no way out. The stone walls of the churchyard where too high and slippery for her to climb. She would have to go through the back door of St. Vincent's, run down one of the lengthy aisles and out the front entrance. That would then bring her to the front steps of the church and out onto the street. From there she could hopefully run home.
Taking a deep breath, Joan exited the bathroom. She stepped lightly, hoping that the wooden floor would not creak. She looked to her right and peered into the living room. She could see the back of Father Ben's head as he sat on the couch. His left shoulder was moving up and down. He was clearly doing some sort of repetitive motion with his left arm or hand. And it did not take Joan long to figure out what that repetitive motion probably was.
"Joan!" he called out. "Are you alright? You've been in there a while. Hurry up! I have something for you that I think you'll like. You've been asking me for it since the first evening I met you."
Joan blushed as she remembered her first night working for Father Ben at the rectory. The forward and amorous way she had come onto him. Knowing what she now knew of Father Ben - or at least what she suspected - that first evening seemed life a lifetime ago. Even though it had only occurred a few nights prior.
Joan turned to the right and began to creep towards the kitchen.
"If you don't come out soon, I'm going to have to come in there and get you," he warned.
Treading as lightly as she could, Joan entered the kitchen. She eyed the back door from across the room. She silently prayed that she would be able to open and close it without Father Ben hearing her exit the rectory.
As she tiptoed across the linoleum something, which was moving around on the floor under the kitchen table, caught her eye. It was long, thin and grey. And had a white stripe running down the center.
It's the snake! Joan thought with alarm. The snake from her nightmare. The snake, which had slithered into her mouth and crawled down her throat. It was here in the kitchen of the rectory. Joan could not stop herself. She involuntarily screamed.
"Joan, what's wrong?" The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard thudding down the hall.
"It's a snake!" Joan cried as she recoiled away from the kitchen table.
Father Ben appeared in the hallway at the threshold of the kitchen. He swiftly tucked his erect and exposed member back into his pants.
Joan was cowering in a corner near the back door, pointing at the floor under the table.
"A snake? Where? Under the table?"
Joan fearfully nodded. The young priest stooped down and looked to where Joan was gesturing. A smile spread across his face as he broke into laughter. Joan looked on in confusion. "What's so funny?" she snapped.
The handsome cleric reached under the table and retrieved a grey strip of fabric with a white stripe stretching from end to end. "It's not a snake, Joan. It's a stole."
"A what?" she squinted at the garment.
"It's part of my vestments. When I'm all dressed up for Sunday mass, wearing my priest's robes, this piece goes over my shoulders."
"Oh ... I could have sworn ..."
"It's funny what the mind sees when it senses danger. You know, cats often mistake cucumbers for snakes. So if you're a cat person, I guess you're in good company," Father Ben teased.
"But I saw it move!" Joan insisted.
"Your eyes are playing tricks on you," he shrugged as he placed his stole on the kitchen table. The then turned to her and asked, "What are you doing in the kitchen?"
"I ... uh ... wanted a glass of water," Joan nervously swallowed.
"I thought you went into the bathroom for a glass of water." He gave her an puzzled look.
"I ... um ... I wanted some ... uh ... juice," Joan mumbled.
Father Ben opened a kitchen cabinet above the sink and grabbed a glass. He then opened the refrigerator and took out a jug of orange juice. He poured the vibrant orange liquid into the glass and extended it toward Joan, offering her the beverage.
Joan cautiously accepted it and slowly brought it to her lips. She took a timid sip and lowered the glass. She stood, frozen in an awkward pose as Father Ben scrutinized her from across the kitchen table.
"So, are you going to come back into the living room? Or would you prefer to go up stairs?" He placed the jug of juice back onto the shelf next to the milk and shut the refrigerator door. He reached down and began stroking himself through his black trousers. He looked at Joan with a rakish smile.
Joan's hands began to tremble. "I ... uh ... I ... I ..." Before she could finish her sentence, the glass she had been holding slipped from her shaking fingers and shattered all over the floor. The sound startled them both as juice splattered all over the linoleum.
"Jesus Christ!" Father Ben swore, as he looked down.
Joan decided to use that momentary distraction as an opportunity. She raced to the back entrance, flung open the door and bolted out of the rectory.
"Joan!" Father Ben hollered. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Joan leaped down the stairs of the back porch and took off running through the yard, down the stone path that led to the church. A moment later she heard Father Ben's feet as they hit the stairs not far behind her.
Joan was not confident that she could outrun the young clergyman all the way to the church. To the left she eyed the baptism chapel. If the door was unlocked, maybe she could run in there and lock the door behind her. So she veered off to the left, departing from the stone path, and sprinted towards the smaller building.
She grabbed at the door handle and pulled. Miraculously it was not locked. She yanked the door open, scurried inside and slammed the door shut behind her. She looked down and saw a locking mechanism on the knob. She pushed the button and then jiggled the handle to make sure that it was secure. She also noticed a dead bolt a few inches above. She turned the thumb latch and heard the deadbolt slide into place.
Not even a second later, a thunderous pounding was coming from the other side of the door. "Joan, open the door!" Father Ben commanded.
