Divine Temptation (16 page)

“Well, well, well, looks like somebody’s learned all about air quotes. Glad to see you’re making such good use of that ‘form.’” She imitated his finger movements.

“Cheeky human.”

Chapter 11

“H
OW
L
ONG
H
AS
T
HIS
T
HING
with Evan been going on, and why didn’t you tell me about it?” Sharon hadn’t even said hello first.

Maggie was grateful that at least this time they weren’t face to face and she could cringe unseen at the other end of the phone. “It’s not a
thing
. We’re really just friends.”

“Uh huh. How’d you meet him?”

Maggie was prepared for this one. “Through church.”

“Well, nice to know you can make time for your church friends.”

“Sharon—”

“Don’t say sorry again. It’s wearing thin.”

“I know. I’m s—I mean…ah! Carl’s big-ass camper just pulled in the driveway. My babies are home! I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you and we’ll get together soon.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. Give those kids a smooch for me.”

“I will. And I’ll call. I want to hear about your big anniversary weekend.”

“That was two months ago.”

The sounds of kids’ voices and doors slamming seeped into the house.

“Okay, we’ll talk soon. Promise.” Maggie rushed to hang up and ran to the front door, throwing it open and grabbing the kids into a big hug. They squeezed her back and stayed pressed into her side while Carl and Melissa unloaded their bags, so Maggie couldn’t be resentful of the tears that welled in Kirsten’s eyes when she waved to her father and his girlfriend as they drove away.

Melissa lowered her window and blew a kiss. “Miss you already! I’ll share the pictures once they’re online!”

It was already evening, and the kids looked positively exhausted, so Maggie ordered a pizza and they all got into their jammies early. Kirsten pulled a pair of polished stone earrings out of her duffel and gave them to Maggie, which reminded Liam to rifle through his bag for the Grand Teton travel mug he’d picked out for his mom. They filled her in on their western adventure until their eyelids drooped, and then, with an arm around each of their shoulders, Maggie walked them upstairs, alternately kissing the tops of their heads the whole way.

Washed up and in her own bed, Maggie was satisfied. Her children were home and she’d gotten through the dreaded trip without too much heartache. She had Evan to thank for that. But now, as she lay there with everything feeling back to normal, the angel seemed almost like a dream again, not part of her daily existence.

She’d been headed to such a dark pit of despair, and now she considered that perhaps this was why Evan had been sent to her—to pull her up. Now that she was righted, she wondered if that meant she had no more need of him…and would that mean she might not see him again?

As unpleasant as the thought was, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. She’d treasured every minute with him, had looked forward to their time together more than anything else during the last two weeks, but being with him was beginning to inspire more conflict within her than serenity. Though she’d earnestly tried to keep her feelings toward him on a high plain, her thoughts kept drifting toward something more mortal. He’d been absolutely right about the ideas she’d been entertaining—it was difficult for her to separate her growing affection for him from a physical attraction. So if he didn’t come back, she had to consider that it might be for the best.

Sarto returned from his stint away from the parish and presided over late morning Sunday Mass. He wasn’t always the most magnetic speaker, but on this morning he had Maggie’s rapt attention.

“The devil is at work every day in this world. He’s not going to jump out at you, wielding a pitchfork with his red horns flaring. He’s more cunning than that. We all know the small ways he tempts us day to day, but on occasion he takes a bolder leap. And sometimes he even disguises himself in the most innocent, even most holy, of masks. He knows we yearn constantly for a connection with the higher power, so what better way to gain our trust than to pretend to be a component of the same? No doubt many of you have heard of the ruckus over at Somme Park.”

A quiet murmur worked its way through the pews. The foundation’s goal of keeping a low profile had worked fairly well and nothing had ever shown up in the local press about the suspected visitation at the garden, but rumors had a way of winding their way through suburbia faster than the vines had woven their way around those pillars.

“I’ll be completely honest with you,” the monsignor continued. “I have no idea what’s going on over there, but that’s exactly what concerns me. Our Lady wouldn’t hide from us. So this could simply be a trick of nature. Or it could be something more sinister. And so it is my advice to each and every one of you to keep away from Somme, or if you must go, at least stay away from the site in question until such time as it can be determined that it’s safe.”

After Mass, Sarto broke from shaking hands with departing parishioners to seek Maggie out, saying he needed to speak with her immediately. She told Kirsten and Liam to wait for her by the front doors while she went to speak with him in the side room. An usher was setting down a stack of weekly bulletins on the counter.

“Tell the others to leave the extras on the side table. I’ll put them away,” Sarto instructed and shut the door after the man had left. Unlike Father Tom, he didn’t go near the cabinets to offer Maggie a drink or any other source of comfort, not even a seat. The only thing he offered was a penetrating stare. “What do you know about Somme Park?”

“Do you mean the disturbance you referred to in your sermon?”

“Is that what I’m asking about? You tell me. I want to know exactly what happened to you that day I ran into you at the gardens.”

Maggie knew word of the strange occurrence would eventually make its way to Sarto, but she’d expected him to forget about their little run in. She didn’t see a reason to evade his question, however, especially if he could possibly shed light on what Evan hadn’t been able to. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before. I honestly thought, hoped, it was just my imagination, but then I heard about the vines and I wasn’t sure any more. Are the vines still there?”

“What did you feel?”

“It was like…a pressure, drawing me to the urn that sat inside. And right before that happened, I had…a vision, the most vivid vision of the garden and everything in it belonging to me. It was beautiful, actually.” Her natural impulse was to qualify her statement and again shun it as probably nothing more than her imagination, but she could see by the intent way the monsignor studied her that he believed there truly was something going on at Somme.

“Why did you run away from it?” he asked.

She wasn’t ready to be entirely truthful with this answer yet, particularly not with the monsignor. The priest was too clinical and suspicious. For all she knew, he’d attempt to incarcerate Evan E.T. style to study him. “I was distracted. Heard a noise or something. And that’s when I thought I saw my friend and went after him.”

“Did you ever catch up with him?”

“No. So it’s still happening? The vines?”

“It continues,” he answered crisply. “And I discourage you in particular from going near there again. You’ve already shown yourself to be susceptible to its influence.”

“What is ‘it’ exactly?”

“
It
is something for me to make a judgment on,” Sarto said. “Until I do, keep clear of it. Thank you for your time, and may God bless you on this fine Sunday.”

He opened the door and motioned her out. Maggie emerged into the narthex feeling as if she’d just been scolded.

“I slept with Carl.”

Sharon’s eyes shot wide open, and she grunted something incoherent while Maggie leaned back in her chair at the outdoor café and watched, a big grin spreading across her face. She’d purposely waited until her friend had taken a big mouthful of sandwich before delivering that piece of news.

Handing Sharon an extra napkin to catch the bits of lettuce falling out of her mouth, she said, “Go on, chew slowly while I give you the gory details. It happened late spring. He and Melissa had broken up briefly. He seemed sad, so I offered him a glass of wine, and next thing I knew we were naked and tangled up in each other.”

“Was it good?” Sharon mumbled through her food.

“More like fantastic. Maybe the best sex we’ve ever had. But it wasn’t going anywhere. Unfortunately, I didn’t get that until afterward when Carl assured me that we’re much better apart. And then he promptly got back together with Missy.”

“Oh, sweetie.”

“No, I’m done being sad about it, and I’m not entirely sorry the whole thing happened. It helped me see that I’ve been clinging to the marriage more than I should have, and now I can work toward truly letting go. But I’ll admit, that was one reason I was avoiding you. I just haven’t wanted to talk about it until recently.”

Sharon peered at her for a moment. “You really do seem okay. Proud of you, kiddo. You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“Well, I haven’t done it totally alone.”

“
Evan
helping you out?” Sharon winked.

“I meant my faith, but yes, Evan played a role there too. He was a gift sent right when I needed it.” A gift that had an expiration date, apparently. Maggie’s instincts had been right, and she hadn’t seen him during the two and a half weeks since that day in Chicago.

“Go on…” Sharon coaxed.

Maggie shrugged. “Not much more to tell. We really were only just friends. But ever the idiot, my feelings were beginning to get confused, and he didn’t feel the same way. So, it seemed the best thing to do was to part ways.” It felt good not to have to dodge her friend’s questions anymore. Evan’s absence gave her a sort of freedom in that way, but the longer he was gone, the less okay she became with it. She reluctantly missed him.

“Well, too bad,” Sharon said. “But realistically, it probably wouldn’t have worked out anyhow. I mean, how old is he?”

“I don’t actually know. I get the feeling he’s a lot older than he looks though.” Maggie caught her smile before it fully formed.

“Wonder if that’s what all cougars tell themselves.” Sharon rolled her eyes and took a sip of water as a flicker of white flashed in the distance beyond her shoulder.

“I’m not a cougar!”

“Only because he wasn’t that into you,” Sharon teased.

“Did he really look that much younger than me?”

“I think five years qualifies, so yeah, he looked at least that.”

Maggie glanced from the restaurant patio toward the street and scanned the row of Victorian-era homes that had been retrofitted into stores and other businesses to create a quaint shopping district. The persistent blob of white that had been dancing in her periphery took form—standing on the sidewalk across the street with his earnest eyes directly on her was Evan.

“Speaking of things that are too young,” Sharon continued, “you’re not going to believe the new football program I just got an e-mail about from the SportsPlex. Football for eighteen-month-olds.
Little Piggies
.”