Sinful Purity (Sinful Series) (24 page)

Shadow Stalkers

The sense of security and closeness I’d discovered at the party lingered. For nearly my whole life, I’d only ever felt safe and secure behind the protective gates of Mary Immaculate Queen. There change never attempted to breach our day-to-day lives. On the odd occasion that change did overtake the sacred routine, uneasiness and anxiety always took hold of me. Just like attention, I was not good with change, either. Until now, the only times I felt safe amid uncertainty was in Brett’s strong arms as his embrace fought to keep me in one piece. Now it was different. Change surrounded me every day in my new life. Yet I remained unscathed, safely protected by the love of my dear friends and my one true love, Zack. I felt invincible and I loved it, craved it. How was I to know that everything would go so wrong so quickly?

Being eighteen now, I no longer feared being incarcerated by Mother Superior. I knew that I would never again live behind the iron gates of
MIQ. While I enjoyed this thought very much, the fact still remained that I was in desperate need of my scholarship from St. Matthew’s. So, with the ultimate goal of a college education in mind, I faithfully followed the schedule that had been assigned to me so many months before—with a few customizations. By day I attended all my scheduled classes and maintained a perfect GPA. In the evenings, Sunday through Thursday, I continued to help out at MIQ and St. Matthew’s. Every night I spent sinfully in Zack’s arms. My life felt full and complete. I remained responsible and faithful to my upbringing while being true to myself and my desires.

I thought I had found a perfect balance, although part of me did ache inside from Father Brennigan’s absence. Father continued to be detained from church on my designated days. He still refused me confession and Communion at Wednesday Mass. If our paths did happen to cross, he immediately diverted his eyes. When confronted by his disappointment, I would feel a pang of guilt shoot through me, a feeling so intense that I was constantly amazed to find none of my vital organs had been pierced by the disapproving bullet.

Without the hazy thoughts that a visit to Father’s confessional had always brought me, I was able to really see life for the first time. Maybe I noticed a little too much. Zack was continually reminding me to “stay grounded.” He would say that my newly released mind, free from its life of captivity, was prone to “flights of fancy.” Maybe I did let my thoughts run away with me once in a while, but I didn’t think I was insane. Deep down my new lucidity only gave rise to more questions about the secrets of MIQ and St. Matthew’s. Zack would tell me it was all behind me and I should let it go. But it was hard to do when the gnawing feeling in my stomach was now more persistent than ever, a constant reminder of secrets waiting to be discovered.

One night Zack brought me back to First Street for dinner. It was his way of trying to apologize for ruining my first visit there with his furious rant spurred on by the crazy chanting of the homeless man. Zack was sweet like that. He knew I had forgiven him almost immediately, but even months later, the thought that he had spoiled something new and exciting for me ate away at him. This was his chance to atone for his own sins. I laughed at the thought. Zack was so nonreligious, but his values were still the same. I imagined what a good guilt-ridden Catholic he would have been if his upbringing were more like mine.

The café Zack brought me to was adorable. It looked like a fifties’ diner, all decked out in red and white vinyl and complete with roller-skating waitresses. I giggled uncontrollably at the novelty. “Oh, Zack! This is perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it. I love it.”

“I knew you would,” Zack confirmed, proud that his efforts had paid off.

“This is so much fun. Let’s make this our spot, okay?” I begged, hugging his arm.

The very agile and graceful waitress skated us to our booth. I slid in and Zack slid in next to me. I adored sitting so close to him. Actually, I treasured any closeness that Zack and I shared. The waitress soon brought our cheeseburgers and fries. We ate and laughed as we took in all the sights. It was a perfect night until Zack got serious.

“Liz, I’m really glad you’re having such a good time,” he said tentatively.

“Thanks, I think. Are you okay?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“Yeah, I just have to tell you something. I’ve kinda been putting it off.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I asked, feeling the tears well up in my eyes.

Zack became agitated. “No! Liz, that’s not it at all.”

“Well, then tell me what it is. Quick, before I guess again,” I pleaded.

Zack laughed. “There’s your mind again, running off with itself.”

“This isn’t funny, Zack. Just tell me already!” I demanded, more fearful than angry.

“Okay, all right. Winter break is coming up…”

“Yeah, so?”

“I have to go home and visit my family. I’m going to have to be away from you, Liz.” His voice was full of sorrow.

“Is that all?” I asked, relieved.

“Yes, but I don’t share your relief. We haven’t spent more than a day apart the whole time we’ve been together. I don’t know how I’m going to sleep without you next to me.”

“Oh, Zack.” I smiled at his sincerity and softness. “It’s only a couple of weeks. I thought you were breaking up with me forever. A couple of weeks seems like nothing now.” I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

We sat and finished our meal, talking about the passing people and a wobbly waitress who looked like she was new. Another Zack crisis had been averted. A couple of weeks without him, I could survive. It made me
think, though. I wondered if Caleb and Lucy would leave for break also. If they did, it would be the first time I’d been alone since starting school. The thought made me a little anxious.

Zack and I left “our spot” and casually strolled up and down First Street the way we should have the first time we came. I thought First Street was even prettier at night with all the shops and streetlights lit up. A yellow glow encompassed the street for blocks, making it appear like one of those quaint little snow globe towns. Part of me expected the whole thing, us included, to be picked up and shaken. I closed my eyes and waited for the imaginary snow to fall. The whole night felt magical. Much of my time spent with Zack felt magical. He had a gift for that.

We continued to walk until we stopped one shop away from a little Italian restaurant.

“Look, Zack. Look who that is!” I exclaimed.

“Who? Liz, I don’t see anyone.”

“Right there! Walking out of the restaurant.” I pointed, trying to help Zack see what I was looking at.

“Liz, I don’t know who you’re looking at. I see two guys wearing a lot of black. So?”

“Zack, that’s Father Brennigan and Bishop McCallahan,” I explained.

“So? They’re allowed to go out to eat. I mean, aren’t they?”

I forgot how not Catholic Zack was. “No, of course they are. That’s not it. Bishops don’t just go out to dinner with parish priests. It has to mean something.”

A large black Lincoln Town Car pulled up and Father Brennigan and Bishop McCallahan got in.

“See, look, they’re even leaving together.”

“Liz, this isn’t one of your conspiracy things again, is it?”

“I don’t know. All I know is this is unusual,” I asserted.

“Liz, you tell me all the time how prestigious St. Matthew’s is. Wouldn’t that make Father Brennigan kinda prestigious too?” Zack asked, pointing out the obvious.

“You’re right, Zack,” I admitted. “Maybe it’s not out of the ordinary for a bishop to have dinner with the priest of St. Matthew’s.” Maybe I’d jumped to conclusions. I shook off the unease that had coiled in the pit of my stomach.

Zack took me home. The next morning he had an early track practice so he couldn’t stay all night. After he left, all I could think about was how much I would miss him when he was gone for break. How I hoped that Lucy and Caleb wouldn’t be leaving also. I didn’t know how I would handle being alone again. After living an isolated, lonely existence for years, I didn’t think I could go back to that, not even for a couple of weeks.

On Wednesday evening right before Mass began, Mother Superior stood up at the front of the church and made an announcement.

“May I have your attention, please. Mass will begin momentarily. First I have the privilege of sharing a bit of good news with all of you. Bishop McCallahan will be here at St. Matthew’s on Sunday to officiate a special Mass in Father Brennigan’s honor. Bishop McCallahan is bestowing Father Brennigan with his new title of monsignor. After Sunday I ask that you all address him as Monsignor Brennigan. This is a great honor and is well deserved. Thank you.”

Sister Christine stepped down from the pulpit.
That explains the other night
. I wanted to be happy for Father Brennigan however after being refused confession from him yet again my charitable side was less than cooperative. I still wished that I would be able to see the ceremony. But I knew all too well that Sundays were for the elite. Maybe Caleb would tell me what it was like. That was the best I could hope for.

Back at school Zack and Lucy were finalizing their travel plans for next week. This would be the last weekend I would get to spend with Zack before he left. On top of that, Lucy was flying home to Texas to spend the holidays with her family. I hated being left behind, but at least I had Caleb. Caleb’s family lived right here in Chicago. Generations of Prices lived in Chicago. He promised to check in on me from time to time between all his well-to-do family gatherings. Frequent checkups were the best I could hope for. I accepted that, appreciated it even.

Zack and I spent every minute together that week, trying to stockpile our “us time” before our forced separation. Then, once Zack left for the holidays, I immediately broke into my contraband stash of books. That was all I was left with—my books and the cute silver heart bracelet Zack had given me as an early Christmas gift. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d left and I already knew my winter break would consist of only two things: solitude and missing him.

The next day was Sunday. This was to be the day of Bishop McCallahan’s special Mass for the soon-to-be Monsignor Brennigan. When I arrived at MIQ a little before eight in the morning, the street was already heavily congested with reporters and news vans. St. Matthew’s had even set up a valet service for its regular Sunday elites. The whole to-do looked more like a Hollywood red carpet event than Sunday morning Mass.

“Good morning, Mary Elizabeth,” Sister Christine said, interrupting my commotion-watching.

“Good morning, Mother.”

“I see you are right on time as always.” This was Sister’s way of extending a compliment, a rare occurrence.

“Yes, Mother.” I smiled and bowed my head in respect and appreciation.

“Well, it is a good thing. If you were tardy I doubt you would have been able to make it in here at all, what with the press looming the way they are.” Mother looked displeased by the media circus that had gathered.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“As if they have nothing better to do.” Mother walked off in a huff.

I thought Sister Christine’s behavior was odd. She usually loved when St. Matthew’s or the orphanage received any good press. What could be better than Father Brennigan’s promotion to monsignor? This event was sure to make all the papers, making the esteemed St. Matthew’s even more prestigious. Maybe all the years of fame and attention were getting to Sister Christine, but I doubted it. Or possibly it was just exhaustion. She did look worse and worse every time I saw her. The once-dark circles under her eyes had become so deep and pressed in that they appeared more like shiners. It was like her own personal nocturnal battle had gotten the best of her, leaving the large purple-and-black bruises as proof. Even her eternally slender frame looked gaunt and sickly under the stress. It was no secret that I had never liked Sister Christine much, but I still felt sorry for her. Her life must have been so much worse than mine ever was, and now it showed all over her like combat wounds.

Today of all days, St. Matthew’s was a true who’s who. All the past and present senators, congressmen, award-winning scientists and writers, along with the numerous millionaires and billionaires of the congregation, packed the pews and aisles. As if on cue, the Prices, Caleb’s family, arrived for the exalted proceedings. I knew I could count on Caleb. I had no doubt
that today would be one of his familial obligations. I only had a couple of hours to wait before he’d tell me all about it. I could wait that long.

After Mass had begun and the ushers shut St. Matthew’s doors, most of the news crews went back to their vans to wait. Some left altogether, having already gotten everything they needed for their stories. With the commotion dying down, I let the children out to play in the courtyard. I took my familiar seat at the little table in the corner to watch the children’s revelry. As always, my mind began to wander. But not to Zack, like I had anticipated. Instead my memories went farther back to my childhood at MIQ. I remembered my dinners with Father Brennigan, back when the rectory dining hall was my only escape. Back when I would watch the candlelight dance and would drop silverware just so I could sample the variety of utensils. How simple life was back then. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. How I missed Father Brennigan. He had always been so kind to me. Back then he was my one and only advocate. After a lifetime of loyalty to me, all I did in return was disappoint him. The thought of it made me sick. Deep down I knew what I had been doing with Zack was wrong. Father Brennigan was just trying to remind me of that. My impetuous nature had cost me his respect and acknowledgement. I thought of how much I wanted to apologize and ask for his forgiveness. But I felt like it was too late.