Bodies and Souls Read Free Page A

self-occupied.
    “Liza,” he had said after a moment, “I love you in the way I love all the members of my church. And you are a lovely woman, which I’m sure you know without my saying. But I’m a married man, and a minister. I don’t lust after you. I’d like to be your friend. I’d like to help you.” Surely, he thought, he could not be any plainer than that.
    Liza had studied Peter for one long moment with her gambler’s eyes—Peter had felt the gaze upon him, and had concentrated fiercely on the winding road. Then she had looked away again. “Of course,” she said.
    When Peter glanced over at her again, he saw that she had rearranged herself seductively, so that ostensibly she was looking out the window, but with her body positioned in such a way that her skirt, which was one of those incredible new things with a slit up the side, exposed almost the entire length of one long, sleek, expensively stockinged leg. And she had placed her arm on the armrest of the car door in such a way that her blouse curved open, exposing a touch of creamy lace and of even creamier, curving breast. Again he nearly ran off the road. He was offended, and deeply disappointed. He had attempted to minister to her, and had been affronted. Churlishly hethought: the hell with it then, there is nothing more I can do. He had to drive a good five miles before he could forgive her or himself for his anger.
    They had parted pleasantly enough, as if nothing had happened, and Liza had continued to attend church, and Peter had said nothing more to her. But he was despondent at the thought of his failure, at his inability to reach her, to let her know that she was God’s child and owed something both to God and to herself. How could he ever reach her? At this very moment, she was staring at him directly, with a frank come-hither look on her face, and Peter thought that if he were a different kind of minister in a different kind of church, he might stop the hymn and openly chastise her.
    Of course he would never do that. It was not his style. And it wasn’t done, not here in this great New England pocket of reserve and propriety. He would never be able openly to confront Liza with her wickedness; and so he would never be able to help her. Every time she came to church she stood there in front of him as a blatant sign of his inability to be a true minister. But the most he could do at the moment was to try to turn wrath away from his heart.
    No. He could do more than that. While the ushers seated latecomers and the organ music carried them through the final verses of the hymn, he could use these few moments to admit the truth to himself. It was not wrath he was trying to turn away from his heart, but lust; and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to turn away the lust, either. It was such a pleasurable sensation.
    If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he liked having Liza in his church, that he enjoyed her presence and looked forward to it—wasn’t she the first person in the congregation that his eyes went to every time? She was a beautiful, sexy young woman, and his feelings about her were complicated. When he had invited her to help him with certain church tasks, had he not been secretly hoping for something more reasonable than a religious conversion? He had been hoping that she would find him desirable, and would express that desire in some definite way. When they were riding together in his car and he reached out to touch her hand, he had done so only partly from genuine human concern: he had also quite simply wanted to touch her. It was too bad that she had been so blatant and definite in her response; if only she had been subtle and shy. Then he could have had the joy of knowing they were physically attracted to each other without the attending responsibility and moral concerns. But no, she had immediately asked him if he wanted to sleep with her, and what could he do but reply as he had? Hewas a minister, a married man.
    But