A Light in the Window (34 page)

Marcy blinked, Evan’s hesitant tone giving her pause. Her gaze flitted from the instant crimp of concern on Julie’s face to Evan’s sober manner, and apprehension settled on her shoulders like the coat Sam had just helped her put on.
Is Evan upset with Julie
? Worry gnawed as she absently reached into her pocket for her gloves and then groaned, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Oh, goodness—I forgot the check Mr. Mulholland gave me after the play, a last-minute contribution for, and I quote, ‘the most fun he’s ever had at a fundraiser.’” She slipped it back in her pocket with a sigh. “I guess I need to deliver it to Father Fitz before we go,” she said with a final glance in the kitchen. “Good night and thank you, Miss Clara, Rupert, Rose—the cookies and punch were wonderful!”

Julie and Evan echoed her goodbyes on their way to the front door while Sam handed Marcy her reticule with the snow globe tucked safely inside. Hand to her waist, he ushered her out behind Julie and Evan.

Halfway to the street, Julie groaned and slapped a hand to her head. “Oh, drat, I left Mama’s crystal candlesticks on the stage, and I promised I’d bring them home tonight.” She whirled around with a plea in her eyes. “Sam, would you be a dear and get them for me?”

Sam froze, glancing at Evan as if half expecting him to retrieve them instead. He gave his sister a stiff smile. “Sure, Jewels—where are they?”

She flashed a smile of her own, gratitude radiating from eyes so like her brother’s. “I think I left them in the far corner at the left side of the stage, in that tattered box Mama stores them in, you know?” She chewed on her lip. “I think.”

A grin tipped one side of Sam’s mouth. “You think?” He shook his head and reached for Marcy’s hand. “Never mind, we’ll find them.”

“Actually …”

Everyone turned at Evan’s remark.

“I forgot Father Fitz said he needed to see both Marcy and me before we left tonight,” he said, offering a conciliatory smile along with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “So, Julie, maybe you and Sam should go after the candlesticks and head on over to Robinson’s, then Marcy and I will meet you there as soon as we’re done.”

Sam paused, his gaze lighting on Marcy. “No problem, Evan—we’ll wait.”

“Well, I know Father Fitz wanted to go over some numbers, Sam,” Evan said with a nervous scratch at the back of his neck, “so I’m not all that sure how long it will take. I’d really feel much better if you just took Julie to Robinsons to save us a booth.”

“Okay …” Sam said slowly. “We’ll see you at Robinson’s, then.” He looped an arm around his sister’s shoulder. “Come on, Jewels—we should have time to cart those candlesticks home before we head over.” He sent Marcy a wink. “See you there, love.”

“All right, Sam.” Marcy smiled. “And nab the back booth if you can, Jewels,” she called.

“Sure, but hurry every chance you get, okay?” Julie’s smile over her shoulder was marred by a tiny pucker above her nose. “We have a lot to celebrate.”

 
“Will do.” Evan watched them head toward the auditorium and released a heavy exhale, unleashing clouds of smoke that rolled into the cool night air.

“Are you all right?” Marcy asked, head tilted with concern. “Is everything okay between you and Julie?”

His jaw seemed tight as he hooked a hand to her arm to escort her to the rectory. “Yes, everything’s fine between Julie and me … or at least it was until tonight.”

Marcy’s heart stopped along with her feet as she turned. “Evan? Tell me, please—what’s wrong?”

Facing her, he buried his hands in his pockets, his lips now as compressed as his jaw. “It’s not about Julie and me, Marcy,” he whispered, “it’s about Sam.”

Marcy’s body went to stone, the air in her lungs refusing to budge while Evan stared at her with empathy in his eyes. “Please forgive me, Marcy, but you need to know—Patrick was telling the truth about Sam.”

She stumbled back as if he’d slapped her, cheeks stinging from the assault of his words. “I cannot believe, Evan Farrell, that you would take that scoundrel’s word over that of Julie’s own brother! What in heaven’s name is wrong with you? Patrick only befriended me in the first place to steal me away from Sam, but it’s obvious that he’s cozied up to you and everyone at the center so much that you’re blind to his reputation with women.”

“Yes, Marcy, I know his reputation with women, but I also know how much he’s changed over the last six months and what kind of friend he’s been to me.” Sorrow slumped his shoulders as he looked up beneath weighted lids, the kindness in his eyes sapping her anger. “And to you …”

She spun around, unwilling to see Patrick in a positive light, reluctant to trust a man who’d drawn her in more than she cared to admit.

And fearful of what that might mean ...

“Sam and I are friends,” Evan whispered, “but Patrick has spent so much time at the center over the summer that he and I … well, we’ve forged a deep bond, and I …” She heard his weary expulsion of air. “Well, quite frankly, I trust him.”

Her breathing shallowed as she shook her head, fighting the urge to put her hands over her ears, but Evan only continued, his voice laced with the same pain that now seared her heart. “I can’t allow Sam to hurt you no matter how difficult this is to hear for both you and for Julie, but the truth is ... Sam lies to you,” he said quietly, hesitating as if the words were too difficult to push from his tongue, “and he sees … other women.”

“I don’t believe you,” she whispered, her voice no more than a rasp.

Her nerves bucked when his hand lighted upon her arm. “It’s true, Marcy. He may tell you he’s working, but—”

She whirled around, panic rising in her chest. “He is working!” she screamed.

“Maybe.” His voice faded to a whisper. “But not last Thursday night. He lies to you just like Patrick said. He has other women.”

Tears stung as Marcy swayed on her feet, her mind suddenly as scattered as the snow in the globe. She tried to make sense of what Evan was saying, but she was too stunned to comprehend, too fearful to believe Sam would betray her like this. Her words quivered with anger along with her body. “I r-refuse to t-take the word of a rogue who’s made sport of lying to women, Evan, no m-matter how good of a friend he’s become to you.”

A muscle jerked in Evan’s throat. “I know this is not easy to hear, but you need to know the truth, and the truth is the trustworthy man here is Patrick, not Sam.”

“Lies—all lies!” Marcy cried, fear crawling up her windpipe to cut off her air. “I’ll tell you what kind of man Patrick O’Connor is—the kind of man he conveniently accuses Sam of being—a liar and a philanderer. You
know
what he did to Emily Fischer and God knows how many others and yet you choose to believe him over Julie’s brother?” Her eyes burned as she leaned in, fists knotted at her sides. “Did you know that your almighty Patrick O’Connor forced himself on me in the beginning, and then nearly again after Sam and I were courting?”

Evan’s lips parted in surprise.

“
That’s
the kind of man who’s accusing Sam,” Marcy whispered, her tone harsh, “and it pains me that a good friend like you whom I love and trust would side with the likes of him. You may believe him, but I refuse to take the word of a man who’s made sport of lying to women no matter how much of a friend he’s become.”

Marcy flinched at the gentle touch of Evan’s hand, his eyes steeped in sorrow. “Then how about the word of a ‘good friend whom you love and trust?’” he whispered.

She stared, unable to speak as her heart thudded to a stop.

“I saw him, Marcy,” he said quietly, “with my own eyes.”

Marcy’s eyelids shuttered closed as she wavered on her feet, desperate to stop what Evan was about to say, but knowing she could not. She felt his hand on her arm once again, tightening as if to steady her, and this time she didn’t fight, too numb to move.

 
“I needed help at the center one night to move storage barrels that were too heavy for me alone,” he whispered, his voice a low drone, “so I asked Patrick. He’d already taken a night shift at work, so he suggested Sam instead, saying he had the night off. But when I went to Julie’s house to ask him, she said Sam was working, and then when I asked if she was sure, she insisted that’s what Sam told her.” Marcy heard Evan draw in a deep breath and release it while her own remained stagnant in her lungs. “I knew then that if Sam would lie to Julie, he had to have a reason …”

Her body began to shake. “Because he was lying to me …” she whispered, the very words chilling her more than the cold.

“Yes,” Evan said softly. “So I needed to find out for sure, because I couldn’t let him hurt you that way …”

She nodded, unable to speak as she clung to Evan’s hand while it braced her arm.

“I left Julie’s house that night and went straight to Brannigan’s, hoping against hope that Patrick was wrong and Sam wouldn’t be there, but he was …” She could almost feel the lump that bobbed in his throat. “And he wasn’t alone.”

“M-maybe … maybe he was just t-talking to someone at the bar,” she said quickly, desperate to absolve this man who’d been her hero, her defender, her dream …

Evan hesitated, as if his next words were as agonizing to say as they were for her to hear. “I know this is painful, Marcy, but I want there to be no mistaking the truth. I didn’t see Sam talking at the bar that night,” he said steadily, his free hand gripping hers on top of his own, “and I was greatly relieved when the barkeep said he wasn’t there.” The pressure of Evan’s hand increased, as if bracing Marcy for the truth that she didn’t want to hear. “But something didn’t feel right, so when I told the barkeep it was an emergency …” He paused to release a harsh breath that shivered her very soul. “He suddenly changed his tune and directed me to a back room where I found him ...” His voice tapered into a whisper. “In bed with another woman.”

Lord, no, please …
Grief broke through Marcy’s stupor, and with a heart-wrenching sob, she crumpled into Evan’s arms.

“Marcy …,” Evan’s voice was gentle. “I can walk you home and tell Julie and Sam you didn’t feel well, if you like. Then you can deal with this in the morning.”

She pulled from his hold, her face sodden with tears. “No, Evan, we need to see Father Fitz—”

“Yes, well, about that,” he said quickly, gaze suddenly sheepish. “I’m afraid I stretched the truth a bit because I needed to talk to you alone, but I’ve already spoken to Father Fitz about what he wanted, so I figured I’d tag along while you delivered Mr. Mulholland’s check, then walk you home.”

Marcy’s fingers shook as she pushed loose hairs from her face. “No, Evan, really—I’ll give the check to Father Fitz, but then I think I’d like to stay and talk to him for a while, maybe clear my mind a bit …”

Evan gave her a tight hug. “That might be a good thing to do,” he said, “and I’ll go tell Julie and Sam you weren’t feeling well. But …” He pulled back to study her, concern mingling with the affection in his eyes. “I insist on walking you home after, all right?” She opened her mouth to decline, but he stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips and an air of authority she dare not defy. “No argument. I always have paperwork I can do, so just pop in when you’re ready, all right?”

“Thank you,” she whispered, more tears blurring her eyes. “You’re a good friend.”

His smile was tired. “So are you, which is why I had no choice but to tell you, but I’m truly sorry.”

He turned to go, and she stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Does Sam know that you saw him?”

He shook his head, exhaling more puffs of frothy air. “I don’t think so. It was dark, and I caught him by surprise with a hand to his eyes, but I definitely saw—and heard—him.”

She nodded, absently pressing a palm to her abdomen to quell the nausea that roiled inside. “And Julie?” she whispered.

“No, I don’t think she suspects anything either. She all but worships Sam, as you know, so I couldn’t bring myself to tell you or her until the play was over.”