Sinful Purity (Sinful Series) (27 page)

Pull yourself together!

I could never have survived being a prisoner in solitary confinement. I mean, if less than a week of moderate isolation was making me this certifiable, I couldn’t imagine what I’d be like if I were really trapped all alone. I shuddered at the thought.

I finally reached the library, just in time. There was no fighting off the deranged thoughts in my head anymore. Hooded figures plagued my consciousness. I burst through the doors of the library with the greatest force I could muster. I knew that within these walls, sanity awaited me.

St. Paul’s library was mammoth. It was one of the newest buildings on campus and very modern. All the books were meticulously organized and cataloged. It was like my own personal haven. I threw myself into my search, perusing every aisle. I examined every book, looking for potential new friends and seeking wide-reaching adventure. Normally I would have enjoyed myself very much. However, I couldn’t shake that troubled feeling that someone was watching me. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and my palms grew moist. As I reached the end of each aisle, I thrust my body around, compelling myself to look. There was never anything there. After several repeat performances and continuously chastising myself for the lunacy that was apparently genetic in my family, I was beginning to accept my insanity. Then, in the last aisle of the classic fiction section, I glimpsed an edge of a robe protruding from the endcap of the aisle. Frozen with fear, I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe.

I wasn’t crazy! My head rushed with thoughts. Should I run? Should I confront the dark robed figure? Should I just run toward it, attempting to transfer my fear? Yes, that was it. I was going to show no fear. If I wasn’t afraid, the figure would have to leave me alone, right? Wasn’t that what they said, that fear gave scary things their strength?

I’ll be brave. I’ll show no fear.

I ran down the aisle with all the speed and force I could muster before I could change my mind. When I reached the end, I leaped out in front of where the robed assailant should have been, but no one was there. I knew I had seen him. I knew he was there. This time I wasn’t imagining it. I was sure of it. The only meager evidence of the encounter was a book still teetering on the shelf like something had bumped it with sufficient force to disturb its rest but not enough to knock it from its perch.

Irritated by my failure, I gathered up my books and took them to the front to check out. The entire way back to my dorm, my mind was racing, my heart still beating at breakneck speed from the adrenaline rush. For the first time in days, I sensed I was alone, free from prying eyes. I began to breathe easier as I reached the doors to St. Augustine. By the time I had traversed the three flights of stairs to my room, I had all but convinced myself
that my encounter had not been a failure but a victory. After all, I was no longer being followed. That had to count for something.

Even with my false sense of victory, I was still going to play it safe. I called Caleb and asked him to pick me up after Mass that night. I wasn’t walking home in the dark with lurking robed figures following me, imaginary or not. Caleb was wonderful as usual, never even questioning my desperate request. I was sure he figured I would tell him on the ride home. I might; I hadn’t decided yet.

Wednesday night Mass at St. Matthew’s was predictable. Monsignor Brennigan was still displaying his previously undetected stubborn streak, again refusing to hear my confession or give me Communion. I just smiled acceptingly, which only made him fume more. The topic of his homily was admitting your faults. He stared intently at me for most of it, as if he was trying to burn the message into me with his eyes. It didn’t work. I knew that his actions deserved consideration of his message just as much as mine did. We both had sinned through our own faults. At least I had asked for forgiveness.

After Mass Caleb was waiting in front of his beloved Judge, just as he had promised. I could always count on him and I appreciated that more than he knew.

“Hey, Liz. It’s about time. I’ve been waiting out here all night.”

“Really?” I asked apologetically.

“Nah, I was just yankin’ your chain. Get in,” he ordered with a laugh.

I ran around the other side of the black beast and got in. I shut the door and buckled my seatbelt. “Thanks, Caleb. I really appreciate this. I hope I didn’t drag you away from anything important.”

“No, it’s a typical night at the Prices’. My dad and grandfather are at each other’s throats. My mom is redecorating something. And my grandmother finally gave up on refereeing the argument by bedtime.”

“Oh, Caleb. I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to come get me.”

“Oh, sure I did. Anyway, the night’s going to go on without me. So do you have to go home right away? Or you want to go grab a bite at the Tripping Donkey? My treat.”

“No, I don’t have to get home. In fact, I would rather not go back right away,” I confessed.

“Well, all right, to the pub it is.” Caleb put the car in gear and sped out of St. Matthew’s, his tires squealing down the street. “Hold on,” he
instructed, a couple of seconds too late, as my body was already flattened to the seat by mere force alone.

Man, this car really is a beast.

Within minutes we were sitting in one of the green vinyl booths at the Tripping Donkey, waiting to order.

“So, you gonna tell me why you’re in no hurry to get back? Or why you sounded frantic about needing a ride tonight?” Caleb asked, getting down to business.

“It’s silly, really.” I blushed, embarrassed by my foolishness.

“Try me.”

“Honestly, I think I’ve just been spending too much time alone. Zack always says I let my mind run off with me.”

“Do you think your mind’s running away with you?”

“All I know, Caleb, is that I get this unshakable feeling that I’m being watched or followed. I had this nightmare the other night, right? And ever since then I keep seeing hooded figures in black robes everywhere.”

“No more scary movies for you,” Caleb mocked.

“Caleb, I’m serious. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Liz, you’re not crazy. The campus is empty right now. That has to be a little spooky. Plus, there’s that seminary on campus. Those guys wear a lot of black. You haven’t seen these figures anywhere else, have you?” Caleb pointed out the logic so eloquently, I felt foolish.

“No, I haven’t. You’re right, Caleb. It’s probably just the isolation,” I admitted, taking a drink of my soda.

“Did you get Zack’s call? He left a message at our room that he was going to call you next.”

“Yeah, I did. Well, I got his message, anyway. I was working at St. Matthew’s when he called.” My voice reeked of disappointment.

“Oh, hey, how’d that go anyway? Is Brennigan talking to you again?”

“No,” I huffed. “He’s as nasty and judgmental as ever.” As soon as the words crossed my lips, a pang of regret coursed through me. I hadn’t meant it. He had always been so kind to me before. I didn’t really think he was mean and critical.

Caleb caught my regret. He was very perceptive like that. “Look, here comes the waitress. Let’s order.” Caleb flagged her down. I knew his real intention was to change the subject. Boy, did I owe him one. Every time Caleb and I spent time together, my debt to him increased.

We sat and talked and ate. The punk band that had played my birthday party was back on stage again tonight. It seemed they had been such a big hit at the party that the manager had booked them one night a week. They sounded great. I watched as the flashy drummer, Taylor, demanded the attention of his audience. The rest of the band, singers included, faded into the background amidst Taylor’s star quality.

“They’re really good,” I said to Caleb.

“Yeah, and they’re pretty good guys too.” He picked up another hot wing.

“The drummer’s flashy. Like he’s already a rock star.”

“Yeah, Taylor was born to rock. It’s just in his blood. See that other guy, the one on guitar?” He pointed to a painfully thin guy with black hair that swept into his face.

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

“Well, he’s technically a cousin of mine. He’s the grandson of the family that adopted my grandfather.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but the crazy thing is he’s adopted too.” Caleb nodded while he chewed his burger.

“From MIQ?” I asked, more interested in the conversation than before.

“Yeah, actually. He told me once that MIQ has all these provisions surrounding their adoptions. Weird stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t really know for sure, but there’s a loyalty clause or something. Like you have to stay a parishioner of St. Matthew’s. You can’t join another church.”

“Like for your whole life? How do they enforce that?” I asked, amazed.

“I don’t know. But it’s wild, huh?”

“Yeah.” I nodded in disbelief.

At the end of the night Caleb drove me back to my dorm. He was so thoughtful that he even walked me up to my room. I was sure that after I admitted to seeing things, he didn’t want to stress me out by making me walk to my room by myself. The crazy thing was that when we hit the second flight of stairs, I swore I heard the access door slam below us. But we were the only ones there. I knew Caleb heard it too because he jumped a little like he was startled. Neither one of us said anything. We just kept walking.

“So, you want me to come in and check under your bed?” Caleb asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, I think I’ll be okay. Thank you for tonight.” I gave him a big hug and unlocked my door.

“How ’bout I come check on you tomorrow?”

“That would be great. But you don’t have to if you have plans. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“It’s no problem. Anyway, Zack would kill me if I don’t look after you.” Caleb laughed, slicking back his blue hair and pulling on his beanie. He straightened one of his earrings that had gotten caught up in the knit of his hat.

“Thanks, Caleb. Stay warm out there,” I told him as I went in my room.

“I’ll try. See you tomorrow, Liz.” Caleb waved as he opened the door to the stairwell and disappeared down it.

Thursday I read one of my new books, made regular trips to the cafeteria for fuel, and then got ready to head over to MIQ. When I got there I headed straight up to Sister’s office to report for duty. As I reached the landing I could hear screaming coming from her office yet again.

“I am not condoning this any longer,” Sister’s voice declared. Then there was silence. “No, I’m not going to give you more time. This is it!” I heard her scream again.

Once again there was silence. She must be on the phone. That would explain the unnatural pauses.

“I don’t care! I will do what I have to do. I’m not involved in this anymore....If that’s what I have to do, then I’ll do it. But this is over!...Yes, I know she suspects. But that is none of your concern. You got sloppy.”

I didn’t know why, but I imagined they were talking about me. I know it sounds crazy, but that gnawing feeling started up again, and it was never wrong. Well, except for that one time when Father Brennigan was having his celebratory dinner with the bishop and I was sure it was something sinister and clandestine. But this was different. Upon thinking that I was involved some way, I became overwhelmed with anxiety and nausea. I ran back down the stairs as quietly as I could and ran smack into Sister Laverne at the bottom of the stairs. I think if she had not been there, I might have ran all the way home. But now I had been discovered.

“Oh! Sister, I am so sorry. I was just going to tell Mother that I was here. But she was busy.” My words were weak and jumbled. I could tell
from the look on Sister Laverne’s face that I sounded dishonest. She leaned over to look past me up the stairwell, as if she was trying to ascertain what I was concealing.

“Very well, child. Let’s get you started on your duties, shall we?” she asked, as if she was waiting for me to give her another excuse.

“Yes, Sister.” I nodded, bowing my head. I followed Sister Laverne back to the laundry room where she unveiled a mound of laundry waiting for me.

The laundry took hours to wash, dry, and press. I knew I was being punished, but for what, I couldn’t surmise. Maybe it was a warning, like “don’t stick your nose in other people’s business.” Whatever the message, I got it loud and clear. That is, if I knew what it was, exactly.

When I was done at MIQ, I walked out to find Caleb waiting for me just like last night. I hadn’t even called him. I walked out, shutting and locking the gates behind me.

“So, did you see any more phantoms today?” Caleb laughed.

“They’re not phantoms. They’re hooded figures,” I asserted, getting into the car.

“Oh, right. Those don’t sound like phantoms at all.”

“Very funny. So what’s the deal? Why are you here?” I sounded gruffer than I meant to, but Caleb just ignored it.

“I had such a good time with you last night I thought we could do it again. What do you say to the Tripping Donkey?”

“Sure,” I replied suspiciously. “But are you sure everything’s okay at home?”

“Yeah, same ol’, same ol’.”

“Okay.” I knew Caleb would tell me when he was ready. It took all of twenty minutes. By the time the waitress took our order and brought us our drinks, Caleb was ready to blow.

“I don’t understand it,” he said. “My dad’s always complaining about how I’m rebellious, while the whole time
his
dad is ticked because he won’t ‘settle in and accept responsibility.’ It’s a joke. I mean, how many generations can this go on?”

“I’m sorry, Caleb.”

The waitress brought our food and Caleb relaxed. Tonight the Tripping Donkey was featuring open mike night. None of the acts was as good as the
band last night, but they were fun to watch and laugh at. I know it sounds mean, but honestly, they were pitiful.

After dinner Caleb drove me back to St. Augustine. He was quiet nearly the whole drive home, which was out of the ordinary for him.

“You okay, Caleb?” I asked, fearful that our evening had not provided him with adequate distraction from his worries.

“Yeah, I am. Thanks, Liz. Have you heard from Zack again?”