Forbidden Fruit (34 page)

Glory folded her arms across her chest and hiked up her chin. “It meant a lot to me, too. In fact, before you started being such a horse's ass, I was going to thank you.”

“Really? For what?”

He arched his eyebrows in exaggerated disbelief. She would take great pleasure in slugging him, she decided, shoving her hands deep into her pockets to keep from doing just that.

“For Lily, of course,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I feel as if you've given me a gift.”

“Knowing Lily
is
a gift.” He looked away, then back, his expression fierce. “But be assured, princess, I didn't do it for you.”

Without giving her a chance to retort, he turned and walked away.

H
ope sat in the white wicker empress chair, her favorite bible open on her lap. The sounds of the summer night drifted in through the screens, the sounds of insects and the occasional frog, children playing, a dog barking somewhere on the block. Above her, the whir of the ceiling fan stirred the warm, moist air.

She rested her head against the chair's high back and closed her eyes. As she had grown older, The Darkness had become more determined, more insistent. She was forced to battle it more fiercely, yet fell into its clutches more often. Most days found her battle weary and drained of energy.

Only after she succumbed did The Beast slumber, only then did it give her moments of peace.

It had slept for over a week now. She smiled to herself. At times like these, she thought life good. She thought the struggle she had lived with all her life no more than a vivid, chilling nightmare.

And at times like these, she felt certain she had beaten The Beast once and for all.

Her peace was shattered as Glory slammed onto the porch, crossing to stand directly before her. “You make me sick, Mother! How…could you?”

Hope stared at her daughter, stunned speechless. Glory had never looked at her the way she was now. Her eyes burned with a fevered light Hope recognized from her nightmares. From her nightmares and from her own reflection when The Darkness held her in its grip.

Her heart flew to her throat.
The Darkness had come for another round. This time, somehow, it had found its way through Glory.

Hope's hands began to tremble; she steadied them by folding them in her lap. “Glory Alexandra,” she said crisply, working to mask the edge of panic in her voice, “you know I don't like being disturbed during my nightly reading of scripture. It's always been that way.”

Glory made a sound of disbelief. “Reading scripture, Mother? How very good you are. How very Christian. In fact, you're an example to all of us, aren't you? At least that's what you've always wanted me, and everyone else, to believe.”

Hope's heart began to thunder. Something had happened, something awful. Something she had feared since her first, heady taste of freedom from the shadow of sin.

She lowered her gaze to the Bible, open to the Twenty-third Psalm.

 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for thou art with me.

 

Hope drew a deep breath, focusing on the words of the psalm, letting them soothe and protect her. Carefully, she closed the Good Book and set it aside, then folded her hands in her lap once more. She raised her eyebrows coolly. “What's that supposed to mean, Daughter? Are you upset about something?”

“Upset? Yes, I think so.” Glory took several more steps into the room. Hope noticed that her daughter's hands were clenched into fists at her sides. “Tell me, Mother, does the scripture say anything about forgiveness? Does it say anything about the sin of judging others?”

Cold started at the top of Hope's head and moved downward until she felt as chilled as death. A small sound of fright slipped past her lips. “Of course it does. As you know very well. I made sure you were well versed in the words of the Lord.”

“Oh, yes, you made sure I went to mass. You made sure I knew the Bible, from cover to cover. You made sure that I was a perfect little angel.” Her voice cracked. “And if I fell below your demanding standards, you made sure I was punished for my sins.”

“I'm your mother. I always did what I thought best for you.”

“Or did you always do what you thought best for yourself?” Glory swept her hair away from her face, and sucked in a sharp breath. “I met Lily Pierron today.
My grandmother.
I saw the house you grew up in. I know what you did, Mother. I know.”

The breath left Hope's body. She stared at her daughter, her world crashing in around her ears.

Glory knew.

Dear Lord, she knew.

Hope struggled to get a grip on her emotions. She had feared this day would come; she had prayed that it wouldn't. Now that it had she must find the right, the best, words. “I don't know what you're talking about. My mother and I had a wonderful relationship. It broke my heart when the Lord took her from me at such a young age.”

“Stop it, Mother! Stop lying to me!” Glory fought back a sob. “Your mother is very much alive. Although she nearly died today. How could you…how could you—”

Glory choked on the words, and she swung away from Hope. She brought her hands to her face. “I don't…know what to say to you. I don't…know who you are.” She dropped her hands and looked at Hope. “I don't know who I am. Because of your lies. Because you kept the truth from me.”

Hope squeezed her hands into fists. “You are Glory St. Germaine. Of the New Orleans St. Germaines. And I am your mother.”

“And she's yours! You abandoned her!”

“You know nothing! You—”

“Santos took me to the River Road house. I saw pictures. I read the letters grandmother sent to you. She begged you for forgiveness. Begged you, Mother. You read those letters and you sent them back.”

Hope flew to her feet, shaking with rage. “She's a whore! Don't you understand? A dirty whore who sold her body to the highest bidder!”

“Stop it!” Glory whirled to face Hope. “She's my grandmother! She needs me. I won't abandon her the way you did. I would never do that!”

“It's so easy for you, isn't it?” Hope cried. “You accuse me of judging my mother unfairly, yet here you stand, so quick to judge me. So quick to abandon me. You have no idea what I lived through.”

“How could I? All I know about you is your lies.” She swung away from Hope and crossed to the edge of the porch, visibly working to control herself.

“All these years you lied to me,” she said finally, her voice thick. “To all of us.” She shook her head. “Santos called you today. Your mother lay near death, her only wish, her dying wish, to see you. But still you couldn't forgive. You denied her the small gift of a visit, a last visit.”

Glory shook her head again, swiping at her cheeks, at the tears that rolled down them. “I don't know who you are. You're a stranger to me, now. When I think of all the times you spoke of your father, the man I imagined to be my grandfather, I almost can't bear it. He didn't exist. You never even knew your father. You were a trick baby, Santos told me. All the Pierron women were. All except me.”

Hope's stomach lurched to her throat. She held back the vomit through sheer force of will. “That's right, all except you. Because of me. Because I wouldn't allow myself to be dragged down into the gutter with them!” She threw her head back, proud. “Thanks to me, you're a St. Germaine. The Pierron part of you doesn't exist. It…doesn't…exist.”

“But it does! Don't you understand? You can't simply say something doesn't exist and then it doesn't. And I won't cut away that part from me. The Pierron past is my past, too. Whether you like it or not.”

“You
can
cut it away.” Hope grabbed Glory's arms, her grip punishing. “You must! I did.”

“No!” Glory yanked free of her grasp, and stepped backward, her expression disgusted. “I won't do that, Mother. It's not who I am, and I think it's wrong.”

The Darkness would not steal her daughter from her. His instrument, that vile boy, would not steal Glory from her. He had tried once, and she had beaten him. She would again.

No matter what she had to do.

Hope brought her hands to her face, struggling to find tears, praying for just the right words, the right pleas.
She had to save her daughter. She had to save herself.

“You can't imagine,” she began softly, lowering her hands as her eyes welled with tears, “what I lived through. You can't imagine what it was like growing up in a…in that place. The things I heard and saw, the life-style I was forced to endure. I lived with whores, Glory. Prostitutes.”

“I know that, Mother. But—”

“You know nothing! I was spurned by all but those of the house. I was called foul, hateful names. Not because of things I had done, only because of what I had been born into.” Hope's tears spilled over, no longer fabricated. She remembered with great clarity and bitterness all that she had endured.

“I had no friends. At school, I was alone. At church, on the playground, the school bus. I was never invited to a birthday party or another child's house. The girls taunted me, and the boys chased me.” Her voice quivered. “And when they caught me, they held me down and forced me to endure their hands and…their mouths. Because of who I was. Because of who my mother was.”

Hope lowered her head, the memories clawing at her. “At night, I couldn't sleep for the sounds of the men and the whores. I would hear their panting and grunting…like animals. Human animals without souls.”

Glory brought a hand to her mouth, her expression horrified.

“You see why I ran? You see why I could never go back? If I had stayed there, Glory, I would have died. My soul would have…died.”

Glory struggled to speak. “But your mother, she…loved you. She tried to protect you. She sent you away.”

“Yes, she loved me.” Hope brought her hands to her face, a great well of hatred roiling inside of her, though she tamped it back. “And I loved her. But I…I couldn't separate her from my life, or from my awful despair. All I wanted was to escape. All I wanted was a fresh start.” Hope looked pleadingly at her daughter. “When I had the chance to escape, I took it.”

Hope drew in a great, shuddering breath. “Please try to understand. Please try to…forgive me. If you…if I lost you, Glory, I couldn't bear it.”

Glory gathered her mother into her arms. “You're not going to lose me. What you went through sounds so horrible. I understand your wanting to escape. I do. But why did you have to lie? To me and Daddy? Why did you need to totally desert her? Why was it necessary to be so cruel?”

Hope clung to Glory, pressing her face to her shoulder. “I was afraid. For myself. And later, for you.” She lifted her gaze to Glory's. “Do you think your daddy would have married me if he had known who my people were? Imagine Grandmother St. Germaine's reaction to the news that I was a
Pierron.
They were notorious women. Anyone who grew up in New Orleans had heard of them.”

Hope lowered her face and began to sob, though without tears. “I was so afraid. I still am. I don't want anyone to know. If they did…I would lose everything, Glory. I know I would.”

“It's all right, Mama.” Glory stroked her back. “I do understand. If that's what you want, I won't tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, lifting her head and meeting her daughter's eyes.

“I won't tell anyone, Mother. But I won't desert her, either. She needs me. And I…I need her, too. I want to know my grandmother.”

Hope stared at her daughter, aghast, her fragile feeling of safety crumbling around her.
The Darkness had come to call. It very nearly had its clutches on her daughter.

Hope grabbed Glory's hands. “With everything you know about her, about who and what she was, how can you—”

“That was in the past. I understand what you did. And though I don't condone your actions, I forgive them. I can't judge you.” She searched her mother's gaze. “And I can't judge her, either. I won't.”

Hope tightened her fingers over Glory's. “I know I was hard on you growing up. I know I was stricter than the other mothers.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “But after seeing the depths women could sink, I was so afraid for you. I just wanted you to have a good life. One that was clean, one that followed His word.

“Please,” Hope begged, “your grandmother is dangerous. I'm afraid you'll…I'm afraid of her influence, I'm afraid she'll hurt you.”

“I'm all grown-up now, Mother.” Glory smiled and gently drew her hands away. “I'm not going to suddenly become a scarlet woman. Lily is old and she's sick. She's hardly going to tempt me into a life of sin.”

But The Beast never aged. It didn't grow sick and it never died. Glory didn't know, she didn't understand, not its ways or that it lay in wait inside her, just biding its time.

And if she told Glory, she wouldn't believe her. She would think her mother was crazy.

So Hope let Glory go. Her heart in her throat, she watched her daughter step unprotected into the night, a demon at her heels.

 

Hours later, Hope huddled alone in the dark, sweating, heart thundering. The Beast had been awakened. It was on the rampage. And this time it wanted them both—Hope and Glory.

Hope fisted her fingers, so tightly her nails dug into her palms. To win this battle she would need her wits and her stamina. Through Santos, The Darkness had already gotten a hold on Glory. This battle would be a trial by fire; it would prove to be the most difficult she had ever faced.