Sinful Purity (Sinful Series) (5 page)

“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just not used to it.”

“What, attention?”

“Yeah, that too,” I replied.

“So where’s my sister?”

“She’s in the infirmary. She’s okay. She just had some weird reaction to something during church this week. Sister Christine said she thinks it’s just an allergic reaction.”

“My sister, allergic to church. I can believe it.” Brett laughed.

“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, the sisters are keeping an eye on her just in case it happens again.”

“Well, do I get to see her, or should I spend the whole day lavishing you with more attention?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean…uh, no. I mean…I’ll show you the way,” I stuttered nervously.

Brett and I walked up the tall, wood-lined flight of stairs leading to the infirmary. Walking alone with him through the secluded passage made my pulse quicken and my cheeks flush. I could feel each cell in my body
become alert with anticipation at the remote chance that our skin might touch. Just an innocent brush of his arm against mine as we turned the corner would undeniably make my life complete. At this moment Brett was all I could think about, all I could see. He wholly infatuated me in every sense of the word. His every gesture held me in rapture. Like a spelunker gazing upon the intense life-giving sun after weeks of existing only in the murky depths of the caverns, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his bright, beautiful face. I felt like I was alive for the first time in my life.

“Aaaaaah,” I shrieked suddenly, breaking the serenity of the moment and my fixated gaze. I had tripped and gone flying headfirst onto the landing in front of Brett. I had been so absorbed by his presence that I had completely forgotten the loose step, third from the top. I was so humiliated, then stunned as I realized I hadn’t hit the floor. Brett had caught me in his arms, my face firmly pressed against his muscular chest.

“Whoa, there. Are you okay?” Brett asked as he held me close to his warm, firm body.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine!” I proclaimed, jumping up and out of his arms, more than a little embarrassed.

“I know you miss my sister. But we don’t need you in the infirmary too. Anyway, I thought you didn’t want any more attention,” Brett joked, feeling my shame.

“What can I say? That third step is a doozy.”

“You know, Liz, you can fall into my arms anytime. You don’t have to pretend to hurt yourself.”

“I wasn’t pretending! I tripped. Honestly, I completely forgot about that step and tripped. I would never…”

“All right, all right, calm down. I was just kidding. We need to get you a sense of humor, and soon,” Brett interjected. “How have you ever managed to survive my sister if you can’t even kid with me? I’m just a lightweight compared to Kelly and her biting sarcasm.”

“I have a mean left hook, remember?” I laughed, proud of the quick wit I had just uncovered.

“Well, all right. There’s a live one in you after all.” Brett smirked as he shot me one of his renowned winks.

I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. Brett crisis averted, at least for now. As we opened the door to the infirmary, we saw Kelly lying in the third bed, next to the window overlooking the courtyard.

“What was all the ruckus out there?” she demanded.

“I was just getting to know your friend a little better, Kell,” Brett teased.

“Oh, yeah?” Kelly inquired scornfully.

“Yup, I think we know each other real well now. Wouldn’t you say, Liz?” He turned to me with a smirk.

I nodded, thinking that Brett and I finally had our own little secret. My mind drifted again back to how it had felt to be in his arms, safe and warm. It was like a haven. I kept replaying the moment over and over, wishing it could happen again. This time without the whole nearly-crashing-to-the-floor part.

“Hey, does anyone here care that I am lying here helpless, bored, and throbby?” Kelly shouted.

“I’m sorry, Kelly,” I said. “Of course I care. That’s why I brought Brett up right away. He didn’t even know you were in here. No one told him.”

“Okay, sis, spill it. Are you really allergic to church like she says?”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, Brett. It was the weirdest damn thing. One minute I’m doing my weekly penance, the next my lips are all swollen and on fire like I’d been making out with a blowfish. They had to take me away on a stretcher.”

“The sisters think maybe she was bitten or stung by something,” I explained. “They have even theorized a reaction from a chemical or cleaner from the church. You know, St. Matthew’s is so old, it is really hard to be certain.”

“Just great, I could have lead paint or asbestos poisoning. As if I didn’t think weekly Mass was bad enough, now I have to fear for my life.”

“Calm down, Kelly. You’re always so melodramatic,” Brett accused.

“I am not! You have no idea.”

“No, really, you should have seen her when she was seven and got chickenpox,” Brett told me. “She insisted that she was infected with smallpox and told all our neighbors not leave their houses, that the area had been quarantined.”

“Hey, need I remind you I am the sick one? So stop ragging and entertain me already!”

The three of us spent the rest of the afternoon playing cards and poking fun at Kelly. Whatever medication the doctor had her on made the taunting that much easier. Kelly was usually as quick-witted as Brett was
charming, so I knew that this opportunity was just too sweet to pass up. Kelly was a good sport for the most part, even though we spent most of the day laughing at her expense.

“You just wait until I’m clear-headed again,” Kelly slurred.

Just then Mother Superior entered the infirmary to tell Brett that visiting hours were over and he needed to leave. Kelly and Brett once again said their goodbyes. This time seemed easier for them. I don’t know if it was the medication or all the laughing that we’d done that day, but this time when Brett left, there were no tears.

I walked Brett back out to the gate where his bike was parked. “Well, thanks for coming by to see Kelly, Brett. I know you made her really happy,” I said, not wanting to mention how happy his visit had also made me.

“Hey, wait a second, Liz,” Brett called as I started to walk away. I turned around in time to see him pull something out of the black leather saddlebag that was slung over the back fender of his motorcycle. “I promised you something special.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Brett,” I gushed, not really expecting anything.

He handed me a small paperback booklet. The cover simply read
Civil Disobedience
. It was by Henry David Thoreau. “I know this isn’t as popular as
Walden
, but I thought you could nurture your inner rebel.” There was a touch of sincerity in his voice. “You know, kid, they’ll eat you up out there if you don’t find your edge.” He gestured to the world outside the protective gates. Brett then leaned in and gently kissed me on the forehead. My eternal bliss was disrupted by his closed fist twisting on the top of my head. Had Brett just given me a noogie?

“See ya later. Take care of my sister for me!” he yelled as he kick-started his motorcycle and rode off.

I stood motionless and dumbfounded behind the iron gates. I wasn’t sure what had just happened. I remembered the kiss. But what was the deal with the noogie? Talk about mixed signals. I could tell I’d be reeling from this for a while.

It was getting late and I must have looked like an idiot standing out there by myself. Perplexed and dazed, I walked back inside the orphanage to check on Kelly.

Over the next couple of months, Kelly was in and out of the infirmary, always after having been to church.

“I knew this godly prison was going to kill me,” she’d bellow.

I think even the sisters felt sorry for her because they never even offered a sideways glance at her blasphemy. Stone-faced Sister Christine began visiting her almost daily, just to check in. Neither Kelly nor I could understand the underlying motives of Mother Superior. Her actions would have suggested that her demeanor had softened throughout the years. But we knew better—Sister Sledge was corporal to the bone. No mushy stuff there, just crime and punishment.

“Don’t be fooled, Liz. Mother Superior is just trying to save the orphanage from a lawsuit,” Kelly explained. “I could so own this place!”

“Why would you ever want to?” I asked contemptuously.

“Yeah, can you imagine you and me living here until we were eighty? Ugh!”

“Well, if we were that crazy, we’d definitely need a lot more cats!” I laughed.

“The crazy cat ladies of Mary Immaculate Queen,” Kelly said creepily as she outstretched her arms in the air, mimicking a ghost.

“Don’t forget virginal,” I added.

“Oh, yeah, right. That’s even worse,” Kelly sighed.

I knew that Kelly and I would never still be living here at MIQ when we were adults. There was no way that we’d stay one minute longer than we legally had to. What really killed me, though, was that Kelly had only a little more than a year left. As soon as Brett was her legal guardian, she’d be out of here. The thought terrified me. Having Kelly made my life bearable. I never wanted to go back to how it was before she got there. I felt like I was actually developing a mind of my own. While still well behaved and highly educated, I was no longer one of MIQ’s perfect cookie-cutter children.

Then there was the matter of Brett. If Kelly left, Brett would no longer have a reason to visit. I adored Brett’s visits, sometimes even more than Kelly did, I think. Brett was effortlessly smooth and charismatic, not to mention the best-looking guy I had ever laid eyes on. But it was more than that. He made me feel special. Brett had a way of listening so intently, you’d think a cataclysmic disaster couldn’t divert his attention. Kelly never had the attention span let alone the interest to succeed at communication the way Brett did. In fact, Kelly’s only conversational skill was that she
could talk faster and longer than anyone I had ever encountered. I’m sure Guinness would have given her a record had they known about her.

Another thing about Brett was that he was very wise about the ways of the world, at least in the eyes of a recluse like me. We would talk for hours about all the forbidden books and journals he’d sent me. I couldn’t imagine how void of personal thought I would be if I’d had to depend solely on the approved reading materials like the other kids did. Thoreau’s
Civil Disobedience
had become my Holy Grail. The idea that in order to be socially responsible you needed to act out was a marvelous, thought-provoking concept. One that, I might add, I was positive that neither Sister Christine nor Father Brennigan would embrace.

I missed Brett sorely and longed for him to return practically from the moment he left. He was extraordinarily flirtatious, which made me squeal with delight, while internally the promise of underlying truth turned me to gelatin. By day he starred in all my fantasies, and by night even my subconscious longed for his touch.

Every time I saw Brett, he’d do this thing that absolutely liquefied me. I know it sounds crazy, but he’d call me by the wrong name. Of course, at first I was devastated, thinking that I was unimpressive enough for him not to remember my identity time and again. Still, I couldn’t blame him. Even I didn’t truly embrace my current designation. After all, Mary Elizabeth wasn’t my given name; it was more like loaned to me. I was confident that my own parents had bestowed a simply sublime name. I just didn’t know what it was, although I had my theories. Anyway, visit after visit I would be crushed until I realized he was calling me by the names of the most beautiful, famous, sexy women throughout time.

“Hey, Bettie,” Brett would call.

“Bettie?” I’d inquire.

“Aren’t you the super sexy Bettie Page? You’re gonna pose for me, right, Bettie?” Brett would tease.

I ate it up. I started to adore attention, at least from Brett. Sometimes I’d wonder how long it took him to think it all up. Was it on the short drive over that he would decide what he was going to call me? Or did it take planning? Did he really know who all these women were? Or did he have to look them up like I did? After Brett left, my mind would race with questions.

Kelly knew I had an enormous crush on her brother. Surprisingly out of character for her, she never said a word, not even a humor-filled jab. There were several occasions that I considered talking to her about it. It was only natural, since she shared every passing thought that she had with me. Yet I always changed my mind after imagining what a can of worms it would open. Part of me feared that Kelly had secretly told Brett. But if she had, he never let on. Brett acted the same way with me now as he had the first day we met. I found a lot of comfort in that: no matter what changed or what crisis loomed, Brett was always predicable, safe. He was stable and reliable, like the Rock of Gibraltar. He didn’t even pick sides between Kelly and me when we disagreed.

When Brett wasn’t around, I spent much of my spare time imagining what he was doing, what his life outside the orphanage might be like. Being here at MIQ since I was so young, it was often hard for me to envision anything different. This stark, restricted life was normal to me.

Kelly would tell me fanciful stories about her life before “lock down.” I would close my eyes and visualize rock concert stages, zombie and slasher flicks, and the wild, teen-filled malls of America’s youths. I always knew that Kelly had a harder time accepting the life at MIQ because she had experienced what real life was like, while all I was familiar with were the regulations of Communist East Germany behind the veil of the Iron Curtain. A rationed life was easier for me to accept because I had never known excess.