Mortal Sin (47 page)

She hazarded a glance at Kit. The girl was listening intently, but her face gave away nothing. “So there she was, penniless, pregnant, and terrified. She was just seventeen years old, Kit. The same age you are now. She didn’t know what to do, so she went home to her Momma. Momma said she’d fix it all up so nobody’d ever have to know about her shame and her disgrace. Momma said, ‘Your brother and his wife want a baby and they can’t have one. So we’ll fix it so you can give them yours, and it’ll work out to everyone’s benefit, and life can go back to the way it was before.’”

Sarah wet her lips with her tongue. “The girl was so scared. She didn’t have anything to give that little baby. She hadn’t even finished high school. She was too young and too weak to fight her family, so she listened to her Momma. And when her own sweet little girl was born, even though she loved that precious baby more than life itself, even though it tore a big old hole in her young girl’s heart, she turned the baby over to her brother and his wife to raise.” She glanced over at Kit, who was looking at her now with fear and confusion and astonishment on her face. It killed her to think she was responsible for that look, but there was no turning back now. She’d already passed the point of no return. Kit was young and resilient. She would bounce back from this. She had to. Anything else was unthinkable.

“When Ellie died,” she said softly, “I begged your father—my brother—to leave you with me. But he wouldn’t hear of it. You were his little girl, and that was that. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t your biological father. He loved you. And I had no rights. I might have been under pressure from the family when I signed my name on that dotted line four years earlier, but I’d still signed it. Nobody’d had to break my arm to make me do it. So he took you away, and I didn’t see you again for ten years. Ten years, Kit. Do you know how long that is to live without something you need as much as you need air and water and sunshine?

“Then, after ten years, one day a miracle happened. He brought you to me, and I got down on my knees and thanked God for giving me a second chance with you. I thought everything would be perfect this time around. But you and I, we’re too much alike. I fought with you worse than I ever fought with Momma. And I got my payback for all the rotten things I did to her. History repeated itself. You ran away from me, just like I ran away from her when I was your age.” She took a deep breath. “Only I did something Momma didn’t do. I went after you. I never gave up on you, Kit. No matter how hard it got, I never gave up on getting you back.”

She was crying now, fat tears that rolled down her cheeks and dampened the collar of her shirt. “We’ve both done some really stupid things,” she said, “but none of that matters as long as we love each other. A very wise and wonderful man once told me it’s not where you’re coming from that matters, it’s where you’re going. We can’t change the past, Kit, we can only learn from it and try to do things a different way in the future. I’m hoping you can find it in your heart to forgive me for everything I’ve done wrong. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me, but I just want you to understand one thing. You were never my disgrace or my shame. Right from the instant I knew I was pregnant, you were never anything less to me than a miracle. There wasn’t a minute of that entire nine months that I didn’t want you. I did what I did because I loved you so much and I wanted you to have things I couldn’t possibly give you at seventeen. And there hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t regretted giving you up.”

Kit was staring out the window now, away from her. Sarah studied the back of her daughter’s head, the slender neck, the vulnerable shoulders, too young to carry such a heavy burden. “I know this has been a shock to you,” she said, “and I imagine you’ll need a little time to think it over. So I’m going to leave you alone for a bit. I’ll be wandering around the grounds outside. If there’s anything you want to know, anything at all, you come find me and ask. No matter how much it might hurt me, I’ll tell you the truth. The years of lying are over.”

She got out of the car, closed the door quietly behind her, and walked around the house, where the grass grew tall and the ground was spongy. Above her head, birds flitted from tree to tree. A shaft of sunlight filtered through the trees and reflected off the glossy wet head of an otter who swam in the murky water of the bayou. The sights, the sounds, the scents of the bayou shot a surprising stab of nostalgia through her.

She stood for a time, watching the otter swimming in the black water. He reached a cypress knee that poked skyward, dove, and disappeared into the murky depths. Behind her, on the other side of the house, a car door opened and closed. Sarah crossed her arms and raised her face to the sky, studying the sway of the Spanish moss draped from a live oak at the water’s edge.

Kit came and stood next to her. Side by side, they gazed into the bayou. “At night,” Sarah said softly, “it comes alive. I used to fall asleep every night listening to that sweet chorus of sound. It took me a long while to adjust to city living, to the sound of trucks and sirens instead of the birds and the frogs and the other wild creatures.”

Silently, Kit slid an arm through hers. “I don’t know what to call you,” she said.

“Call me Sarah. It’s my name.”

“My mother—I mean, my adoptive mother—”

“Ellie.”

“I don’t remember much about her, except the singing.”

“Ellie was the sweetest, kindest person who ever walked this earth. If she hadn’t been, I would never have handed my baby girl over to her, no matter how hard Momma pushed. She loved you more than life itself.”

“I always used to wonder… when I looked at pictures of her. I used to wonder why I didn’t look like her at all. Now I know why. It’s because I look just like you.”

She took a deep breath. “That’s what people keep telling me.”

“I’ll have questions,” Kit said. “I know I will. But I need more time. Is that okay?”

Her heart contracted. “Of course it is, sugar. You take all the time you need to process this. I’m here for you whenever you need me. Any time, day or night.” She gazed at the muddy water of Bayou Rouillard and took a deep breath. “You and me,” she said, aiming for a casual tone, “are we going to be okay with this?”

She waited breathlessly for her daughter’s answer. Kit considered the question at length. Then she lay her cheek against Sarah’s shoulder. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think we are.”

Buying the Celica was the most impulsive thing he’d ever done.

The car was bright red, a Boston driver’s dream, with a 1.8-liter DOHC 16-valve engine and a 6-speed manual trans-mission that would take him wherever he wanted to go in as little time as possible. It had all the bells and whistles, including a JBL premium stereo system that at full volume would probably blow out the windows. The car was too flashy, too fast, loaded with too many expensive and unnecessary toys. It was an outrageously inappropriate vehicle for a Catholic priest to drive, loud and aggressive and blatantly, inexcusably sexy.

It had cost him the moon, but then he’d been frugal with his money all these years. He’d tucked a portion of it away in savings, had shrewdly invested another portion. His frugality had paid off. He’d been able to pay cash for the car and still have a substantial sum left in his bank account. That was a good thing, since he was now officially unemployed, and might have to live off his savings until he found work.

No regrets
. That was what he’d promised Sarah seven months ago, and what he’d promised God two weeks ago when he walked into Bishop Livingston’s office and tendered his resignation. He’d expected to meet with resistance, but the bishop had been surprisingly supportive of his decision.

“When you came here seven months ago,” Livingston said, “it was made clear to me by Bishop Halloran that you were undergoing some kind of personal crisis and needed the time and space to mull it over. Of course, I’d hoped you’d choose to stay, but I took you on fully understanding that your choice might be to leave the priesthood.”

“Then you won’t try to talk me into staying, Your Excellency?”

“It’s a decision only you can make, Father, and it appears as though you’ve already made it. You’ve been an asset to the priesthood, and I’m sure you’ll be successful at whatever you attempt in the secular world. If there’s anything I can do to help ease your transition, please let me know. Go with a clear conscience, and may God go with you.”

He’d stayed through Christmas. Somehow, it had seemed fitting that he should remain long enough to celebrate the Lord’s birthday with his parish. He’d made a few friends during his seven months in Detroit, people whose faces and kindnesses he would remember fondly, and he made sure to give each of them a personal farewell. Some of his parishioners urged him to stay. But the ailing parish needed someone he could never be: a priest who could dedicate himself, heart and soul, to rebuilding and restoring a needy inner-city parish. His soul might have belonged to God, but his heart belonged to the woman he’d run away from. He’d put seven hundred miles between them, thinking it might make a difference, but he’d found he couldn’t outrun her reach. She’d simply followed him, haunting his sleep and distracting him from his daily routines and responsibilities.

It had taken a great deal of soul-searching, a great deal of prayer, before he was able to admit it was time to move on. He was no longer effective in the role he’d chosen to play. Whatever God’s future plans for him might be, they didn’t include the priesthood.

It still hadn’t hit him. Not really. He’d packed his vestments and taken off his collar, but he couldn’t shake off the mantle of priesthood quite as easily as he could remove the outer trappings. There were ingrained patterns of thought and behavior that had taken years to form, and that would take as many years to erase. It was both liberating and terrifying to realize that for the first time in twelve years, he had no expectations placed on him, no schedule or rigid rules to follow. There was no place he had to be, nothing he had to do. He no longer held in his hand the weighty responsibility of the souls of two hundred people. His relationship with God had moved from the professional arena to the personal, and it would take him some time to fully grasp that transformation. He suspected it would take even longer to adjust to being called Mister instead of Father.

He left Detroit the day after Christmas. Traffic was light, as most travelers hadn’t yet begun the post-holiday trek home, so he opened up the Celica and let her run those seven hundred miles of highway between Detroit and Boston. Ten hours later, with the sun hanging low over the western sky, he arrived in Boston. He drove straight through the city without stopping. There were places he wanted to go, people he wanted to see. But first, there was a woman in Revere who held his future in the palm of her hand.

He had to find out if she still wanted him.

The mall was dressed up in Christmas attire, and when he stepped through the door of the bookstore, sleigh bells tinkled overhead. Josie was working the counter. A pair of earrings shaped like Christmas tree bulbs dangled from her earlobes, and on her head she wore a ridiculous pair of red and green reindeer antlers. She glanced up and saw him, and her face lit up like a Las Vegas summer night. “All the bookstores in all the malls in all the world,” she said, “and he has to come walking into mine.”

He returned her grin. “Hello, Jose. Is Sarah around?”

Josie’s smiled disappeared. “You missed her, hon. She left two days ago for New Orleans.”

Bitter disappointment flooded his body. “New Orleans?” he said. “What’s she doing in New Orleans?”

“She and Kit flew down to spend Christmas with her ex-husband. They won’t be back until January.”

A hard knot settled in the pit of his stomach as he pondered the significance of this development. Could she be planning to reconcile with Duval? Was he too late? Had he completely blown any chance he might have of getting her back?

His face must have read like an open book. “Look,” Josie said, leaning on both elbows over the counter. “That lady has one tough hide. But it’s not bulletproof. I’ve seen the scars. After you left… ” She paused, shook her head. “Let me just say one thing. If you let her get away, you’re a damn fool.”

He released a pent-up breath. “Then I’m not too late? She hasn’t gone down there to—” He paused, unable to continue.

“You mean Remy? I imagine he’d take her back in a heartbeat, but I honestly don’t see it. Since the day you left, she’s never so much as looked at another man. She’s a one-man woman. Unfortunately, that one man happens to be a good-looking, hardheaded priest who’s too blind to see past the nose on his face and realize what he walked away from.”

“I’ve taken off the blinders, Jose. And I’m not a priest anymore.”

“Then go after her. Make the gesture. She’s a woman, Clancy. We appreciate romantic gestures. If any man ever chased me all the way to New Orleans… well, let’s just say I’d find him pretty hard to resist.”

The sun was going down as he drove back to Southie. M Street wore the rosy glow of an early winter dusk. As he approached the Rafferty house, he saw Jamal standing in the street, talking to another kid, both of them leaning against Caro’s Mitsubishi. Clancy winced and shot a quick glance at the second-story window. If Carolyn saw the kids anywhere near her car, she’d probably skin them both alive. For the first time ever, he understood.

He pulled up to the two boys. With the flick of a button, he smoothly lowered his window. “Good afternoon, boys,” he said.

Jamal’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit,” he said. “I thought you in Detroit.”

“I was,” he said. “Now I’m here.”

Jamal eyed the Celica with open appreciation. “This your car, dude? You finally get rid of your old lady car?”

“I did. What do you think?”

“I think we overdue for a ride. Way,
way
overdue.”

“Funny you should mention that, because I was thinking you might be interested in a little road trip. If we can get Fiona’s permission, of course.”

Still gaping at the car, Jamal was slow to process his words. “Road trip?” he said, and glanced up with keen interest. “You and me? In this car? Where we going, dude?”