![]() ![]() My new mother-in-law didn’t make eye contact with me for well over a year. And we went to a different church - still Catholic, but we sat at the back, hoping not to be recognized. We married almost immediately, with a secret wedding license so it wouldn’t appear in the newspaper. My parents remained philosophical - because even a fallen priest was better than a drug-addled bully. The diocese and the brotherhood of priests burned with gossip. As soon as he found it, he left the priesthood. He eventually took a leave of absence and looked for a job in the private sector. He was moved from my parish to another church in another town but continued to drive back to my apartment to stay all night anyway. The bishop heard rumors, confronted Father W. It was, as if by McCullough’s own pen, our own “Thorn Birds” story. He told me afterward that we were both technically excommunicated by that private act – but that our love was bigger than the church or any rules of mankind. When I wondered about the future of the relationship, and how guilty I felt, he made me promise to love only him, and to recite the wedding vows with him one night to bind us. He came over every night, staying later each time, until he was creeping away at dawn. After giving me my First Communion, he took me into his private rooms in the rectory and we made love. We continued to speak or see each other often, pushing boundaries further, until the very night I was welcomed into the church at Easter. We went for dinner one night and ended up in the rectory, passionately making out. After the abuse and horror of my recent relationship, such kindness was irresistible. In our evening calls, he revealed to me that he cared for me more than I could ever know. I prayed daily my thanksgiving for such a wonderful priest. I was in the process of joining the church through the adult conversion program, and in my weekly class, I saw how beloved he was by the community. ![]() He was so tender, so concerned, and our intimate nightly telephone talks quickly became the highlight of my day. He was the most caring, compassionate man in the world. I was in the middle of a breakup from an abusive, drug-addicted boyfriend when I first went to Father W - for counseling. But in other ways, my story was nothing like that romance. I fell in love with my priest and later married him - the same torrid forbidden love story that fuels McCullough’s classic novel. She was the author of a book that, in some ways, read like the story of my life. I felt a small tug of personal loss when author Colleen McCullough passed away last week. ![]()
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