A Passion Denied (56 page)

She was little more than a zombie slumped in a chair, barely aware of the turmoil going on around her. Somewhere in her mind she knew her mother was crying and her father was pacing and her sisters were hovering about, worried sick. She had never heard Mitch curse before . . . or maybe it had been Collin—but some low-hissed obscenity filtered through the fog nonetheless. And together, along with the sickening drone in her brain, the muffled sounds created a surreal nightmare from which she could not wake up.

Brady had deceived her. Mary had lied. And Michael had deluded her to the point of fraud. She closed her eyes, still reeling from the shock of it all. A family trait, no doubt, compliments of a heritage so steeped in shame, it was a wonder Brady had survived at all.

But he had, and no thanks to Michael, who had misled her and his own flesh and blood in the name of love.
Mrs. Michael
Brady.
Lizzie shivered as if she’d had a near-death experience, then realized she’d had. Her future had teetered on the precipice of hell, mere seconds away from destroying her life. But God had delivered her. From a man who walked with God when people were watching . . . and danced with the devil when they were not.

“Let me in—
now
! She’s going to be my wife!” Michael screamed and pushed through the door. He rammed so hard, Collin tumbled into a freestanding sanctuary light that sent both crashing to the floor. “Lizzie, let me explain!”

Mitch had him in a choke hold before Collin could right himself and the candle. “Not in this lifetime, you two-faced bucket of scum.”

Michael tried to lunge forward, but Mitch jerked him back, twisting his arm behind his back. Michael groaned. “Lizzie, listen to me, please. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Mary was my stepsister, but I had my reasons.”

Lizzie slowly rose to her feet and pried the diamond ring from her finger. With trembling hands she moved to slip it into his vest pocket. “Please don’t waste your breath, Michael, I already know your reasons.”

The blood siphoned from his face. He looked at Helena with eyes unnaturally bright. “What did you tell her?”

“Everything,” Lizzie whispered. She moved to where Helena sat hunched in a chair, hand to her eyes and body quivering with silent weeping. Lizzie put a protective arm around her shoulder and looked up, a hint of defiance in her violet eyes. “Every vile secret you have.”

He wrenched against Mitch’s hold. “You lousy whore—I’m going to break your neck.”

Mitch jerked a rock-solid arm against Michael’s throat, stealing his wind. “Not if I break yours first. Just give me the word, Lizzie, and I’ll take him out. I swear, I never liked the guy.”

“Mitch, no!” Marcy cried.

Collin stepped forward with wild eyes. “Yeah, let me, instead.” He raised his fist and struck like a rattler. “This one’s for Brady, you lowlife.” The punch clipped Michael in the gut, and he doubled over in pain. Marcy and Faith screamed.

“Collin! For the love of God, control yourself!” Father Mac stood in the door, garbed in white vestments trimmed in gold. His voice rang with authority and shock. “Mitch, unhand him this instant. This is not the time for heated emotions. We need restraint and rational thinking.”

Mitch grunted and shoved him away.

Michael staggered, then rebounded and tried to take a potshot at Collin. A ragged breath hissed from Michael’s lips as Mitch choked him again with another muscled arm to his throat. “Tell
him
that, Father,” Mitch said.

Father Mac strode up to Michael with all the cold deliberation of a gunslinger at high noon. He prodded a menacing finger into the pleated dress shirt of Michael’s double-breasted tuxedo and glared into his scarlet face, unnaturally elevated from the press of Mitch’s arm. He fairly spat his words. “You know, on second thought, Michael, maybe you don’t need to be here right now. I think I may just ask Mitch and Collin to keep you company outside for a while.”

Michael managed to gargle a curse before Mitch cut off his air.

Father Mac arched a brow. “Oh, that will cost you penance, I’m afraid. Say, twenty minutes in the back room with your ex-future brothers-in-law?” Father Mac glanced at Mitch and nodded toward the door. “You can keep him quiet in the usher’s room. We won’t be long.” His lips twitched the slightest bit. “And remember, we’re to turn the other cheek—and I don’t mean his. Keep in mind it’s a sin to bloody a man.” He glanced at Patrick, the two exchanging looks of bridled anger. “Or in cases like this, maybe it’s a sin not to,” he muttered. “I always get the two confused.”

Mitch and Collin took him outside. Michael’s ranting faded as they closed the door. Father Mac set up two wooden folding chairs next to Helena’s and offered one to Lizzie. She sat down and took Helena’s hand, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

He sat and leaned forward, arms propped on his knees and head resting on clasped hands. “How are you, Lizzie?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet.

His gentle tone immediately produced tears in her eyes. “Devastated, Father. Not just over Michael, but what he did to Mar—to Helena, to me, and to—” Her voice broke on a sob.

Marcy rushed to her side and put a protective hand on her shoulder.

Father Mac pulled a handkerchief from beneath his vestments. He handed it to her, then lifted her chin with a gentle prod of his fingers. “Lizzie, Brady has chosen to forgive all. You can do no less. But before we talk about John, I’d like to talk to you and Helena about why you called the wedding off.” He looked up at Faith and Charity. “Would one of you mind getting your mother a chair, please, and perhaps for yourselves as well? Both of you can stay to support your sister if you like, but given the delicate nature of this discussion, perhaps Sean should take Katie and Steven outside for a while.” Father Mac glanced up at Sean. “Is that all right with you, Sean?”

“But, I want to stay,” Katie insisted.

Patrick grilled her with a look. “Defying your parents is one thing, Katie Rose, but defying a priest borders on sacrilege. I suggest you go quietly—
now
.”

“Come on, Katie, I’ll buy you and Steven a soda at Robinson’s,” Sean said.

She stalked to the door, lips pursed tight. “Bribery. That’s a sin too, isn’t it, Father?”

The door closed, and Father Mac turned his focus on Helena. “Mary—or Helena, I should say.” He paused to run a hand over his face. “That’s going to take some getting used to, I’m afraid.” He drew in a deep breath. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Why did you lie about who you were?”

Helena peeked up with eyes as raw as Lizzie’s, her face flushed with shame. “I . . . didn’t intend to lie, Father, I promise. Michael needed Brady to sign the will before the inheritance could be distributed, and he didn’t think John would do it for him. So he sent me.”

She looked down and fidgeted with the tips of her polished nails. “When I walked into John’s shop that first day, it was obvious he didn’t recognize me. I mean, why should he? I hadn’t seen him since I was ten. And I wanted to tell him who I was so badly, really I did, but I was afraid. He was so warm and kind that I . . . I thought he would hate me if he knew who I really was.” She bit the edge of her lip and looked up with timid eyes. “So I lied,” she whispered, “and things went from bad to worse.”

“How’s that?” Father Mac asked, settling back into his chair.

“I not only lied to Brady, but to Lizzie and to everyone at Bookends. I never intended to stay in Boston for longer than a day or two, but when I saw John, I . . . I wanted to get to know him again. He’d been my favorite growing up, as well as my mother’s. He was the quiet brother, but the kind one too, always letting me tag along when he went fishing, reading me stories, even playing hopscotch if I asked. Michael would make fun of him, calling him a mama’s boy because John always preferred being home rather than out with Michael.” She drew in a deep breath. It quivered out again in a shaky sigh. “I just wanted to see if he had changed, that’s all. And he had—he was even kinder and gentler than I remembered.”

“So you fabricated this life of Mary Carpenter. When you became close to Lizzie, why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

She glanced at Lizzie. “I wanted to more than anything because Lizzie was the best friend I’ve ever had. The only real friend I’ve ever had,” she whispered. “Except for John.”

Father Mac studied her with a furrowed brow. “Then why didn’t you?”

Helena put a hand to her eyes, obviously uneasy with what she was about to say. “Because I was afraid . . . afraid she would hate me.”

“For lying about your identity?”

She lowered her head, one palm still obscuring her eyes. “Yes, and for not telling her the truth . . . about the kind of man that Michael is.” She drew in a deep breath and suddenly straightened in the chair, her back rigid and her lips resolute. “Back when I first came to Boston and didn’t return home after several days, Michael called me at the Parker House Hotel. When I told him I wasn’t coming back, he flew into a rage, not only because I failed to bring John back, but because . . . I wouldn’t be in New York anymore.” Her shoulders cringed in a painful heave. “You see, I was convenient.”

“Convenient?” Father Mac asked.

Helena looked up and nodded. Her eyes, glossy with tears, were steeped in shame. “I was his charge, his slave, if you will, to do his bidding.” She shivered. “You might say he was blackmailing me.”

Father Mac leaned forward. “Blackmailing you?”

Her chin began to quiver and tears streamed down her face. “You s-see, a-after John left home, Mother’s drinking escalated until she was little more than a zombie, day in and day out.” A hardness settled over Helena’s features. “And Michael took full advantage. John had always been my defender, my buffer against Michael’s cruelty, but then he left, and suddenly I was at Michael’s mercy.” A bitter laugh rasped from her throat. “Mercy. As if that’s a word Michael knows anything about. I felt so alone, so lost. No desire to fight or even to live. I was little more than a shell, too afraid of Michael to stand up to him.” She shielded her eyes once again. “So I did whatever he told me to do—whether it was right or wrong.” Her body convulsed with a tearful heave.

“Helena, you don’t have to go on—”

She looked up, her eyes almost wild. “Yes, Father, I do! Lizzie needs to know what kind of man she almost married . . . and I need to be free.”

Father Mac exhaled slowly. “I see. So Michael was blackmailing you. Why?”

“He didn’t want me to tell Lizzie who I was. He was afraid I would tell her about his sordid past and his countless . . . indiscretions with women. I tried to dissuade her without divulging the truth, but Lizzie always defended him, saying I didn’t know Michael. And I began to believe that maybe I didn’t. That perhaps he had changed. For the first time ever, I could tell he was in love, really in love. And I hoped . . . that maybe Lizzie had changed him . . . just like John had changed me. After all, I was no longer Helena Brady. I was Mary Carpenter, a woman who, according to John, was ‘a new creature in Christ Jesus.’ So I decided to keep quiet. Until last night.”

“What happened last night, Helena?” Father Mac asked quietly.

Helena peered beyond him, lost in a vacant stare. “Michael was drunk when he came to my apartment. He seemed a bit melancholy and started rambling . . . about how he’d only started seeing Lizzie as a means to force John to sign. But he’d gotten caught in his own trap, he said, and fallen in love. Said Lizzie made him feel whole and clean . . . for the first time in his life. When he first started seeing her, he knew I wasn’t happy about it, but he threatened me. Told me if I tried to stop it, he would reveal everything—to Lizzie and to Brady—tell them that I was a liar and a fraud.”

She shivered. “I couldn’t let him do that. I couldn’t risk losing the respect and trust of the two people I loved most in this world. So I lied to myself, forced myself to believe that it would be all right if Michael married Lizzie. After all, she had changed him so much already, softened him almost, that I thought she would be good for him. I hoped she could reform him, eradicate his past . . . just like Brady had done for me.” She closed her eyes. “But I was wrong.”

Father Mac worked to appear calm. He rested his head on clasped hands, but his eyes burned with silent fury. “What do you mean, Helena?” he whispered.

Helena drew in a cleansing breath. “Michael is a man of strong appetites, Father. I know he loves Lizzie, but he’s not good at being faithful, celibate. But I thought Lizzie had changed all that. I told him I was proud of him for turning over a new leaf. That’s when he laughed and said a bachelor at the Parker House was never lonely. It was then I realized Michael had no intention of being faithful to Lizzie. Not only has he been . . . entertaining other women at the Parker all along, but he made it abundantly clear he had no intention of changing after they were married.”

Patrick put his head in his hands, while Father Mac waited for Helena to go on.

“I told him I would tell Lizzie, but he laughed. Said that he didn’t think I would, that I had too much to lose.” She shivered and her eyes swam with tears of regret as she searched her friend’s face. “But after last night, I realized that you had so much more to lose . . . and I . . . I couldn’t allow that. Please forgive me, Lizzie, for letting it get this far.”

“Helena,” Father Mac leaned forward. The intensity of his tone captured their attention. “As far as the details of your past . . . have you received the Sacrament of Penance?”

Helena nodded.

He drew in a deep breath. “Good, good. Then as John said, you are indeed a new creature in Christ Jesus.” He rested a firm hand on her arm and exhaled slowly. “And speaking of John, I’d like to ask a few more questions, if I may.” He glanced at Lizzie. “Who in this room knows about John’s past?”

Lizzie met her father’s gaze across the room, while her mother took her hand. “Only my parents,” she whispered.

He nodded and glanced up, first at Charity, and then back at Faith. “Girls, if you would be kind enough to step outside, I would appreciate it.”

Charity squeezed Lizzie’s shoulder and followed Faith from the room. When the door closed behind them, Father Mac turned back to Helena. “When Brady went to New York to sign the papers, he told me he met his stepsister—”