Papa. They’d always had a special bond, no doubt in part because she’d been the only girl among the four boys in the family until she’d been five and Gina had arrived. Even so, it had been a distinct shock when she’d eventually come to realize that her decision to join the Sisters of Charity had sprung not from a true vocation on her part, but from a desire to fulfill her father’s long-held dream for her and, to a lesser extent, to please her mother.
And? prompted the gentle voice of her conscience.
She shifted on the vinyl-covered seat. Ever since she’d admitted to herself—and God—that she wasn’t meant to be a nun, she’d vowed she’d always be honest with Him and herself, no matter how difficult or humbling.
So quit avoiding the other reason you knew you weren’t meant to stay in the order. Admit that despite the passage of time, you never completely quit having feelings for Gavin. That for all these years, a part of you has continued to long for him—the sound of his voice, the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch…his presence in your life.
The shudder of pleasure she hadn’t allowed herself at the time swept through her now as she recalled how it had felt to be held in his arms on the dance floor tonight. She squeezed her eyes shut, thanking the Almighty for lending her the strength to appear composed, to keep the conversation light, to not make a fool of herself and blurt out to Gavin that she’d never stopped missing him.
She also thanked God for helping her keep her chin up when, moments after telling Gavin she’d spent most of the past decade as a nun, he’d fled. Or close enough. Conveniently for him, the music had ended a few seconds after her revelation. Murmuring an uninflected, “I see,” he’d glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I’m sorry to be abrupt, but there’s a phone call I need to make.” He’d looked up, flashing her a duplicate of the polite, impersonal smile with which he’d first greeted her. “It’s been nice seeing you, Colleen. Thanks for the dance.” Then he’d turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone on the dance floor.
“Jeez, lady, is that what you mean by a park?”
The cabbie’s incredulous question put a merciful end to Colleen’s recollections. She snapped her eyes open, grasping at the chance to concentrate on the present, even though she knew she was only postponing the inevitable. Like it or not, she was going to have to deal with the caldron of feelings her encounter with Gavin had stirred up.
But not yet. “Pardon me?”
“I said, is that the park you were talking about?” He waved at the dark patch of ground that stretched between the lighted brownstones like a dark gap between a row of pearly teeth.
“Yes, it is.”
“Huh.” He met her gaze in the rearview mirror as he slowed the taxi and pulled to the curb. “Where I live, we’d call that a vacant lot.”
She did her best to look serene. “Everyone is entitled to his opinion.” Besides, she hadn’t a doubt that once the bulbs she’d planted came up this spring and she added a few trees, a couple of birdbaths and a bench or two, it would look much more parklike, something the cabdriver couldn’t possibly be expected to know.
“Yeah, that’s true. That’s why we live in a democracy.”
Frowning, she realized someone was sitting on her front stairs. “Actually, the United States is a republic,” she said automatically as she reached for the door handle. “What do I owe you?”
The man rattled off the amount on the meter. “Plus two sawbucks for—”
“Seeing me to the stoop. I remember. But it’s really not necessary as it appears I have company. Here’s the fare—” she leaned forward and thrust the money at him “—and your twenty, plus an extra five for being so nice.” Flashing him a bright smile, she scooted out onto the sidewalk. “Have a lovely night.”
“But your old man said—”
“Good night,” she said, firmly shutting the door. Then, taking a deep, calming breath and composing herself, she turned just as the shadowy figure climbed to its feet, revealed by the streetlight to be a tall, dark-haired teenager. “Brett? Is that you?”
Hunching his shoulders, the youngster thrust his hands into his front pants pockets. “Hey, Ms. Barone.”
Muscles she hadn’t known she’d tensed slowly relaxed, while questions crowded her tongue. Oh, dear. Why was he here at this hour? Had he been in a fight? Was he hurt? In trouble with the law? Had he had another argument with his mother? Or had the woman kicked him out again because she was “entertaining” one of her boyfriends?
Yet as she crossed the sidewalk and started up the steps, Colleen knew better than to ask, at least not right away. Of all the students she counseled at Jefferson High, Brett Maguiness was both the most talented and academically gifted—and the most private.
He was also her favorite, although she was careful not to show it. In her heart of hearts, however, she couldn’t deny that there was something about the moody youngster with the guarded eyes that had pulled at her from the instant they’d met at the start of the previous school year.
“Goodness, but it’s cold out here.” With a shiver that wasn’t feigned, she stepped past him to unlock the door to the vestibule. “Have you been waiting long?”
He hiked his shoulders in the nonchalant shrug she considered his trademark. “Awhile.”
She let it go, since it wasn’t really important. “Well, what do you say we get inside where it’s warmer?” She pushed the outer door open and proceeded to the inner one, trusting him to follow.
Moments later they were walking down the short hallway to her ground-floor apartment. The sound of a violin concerto drifted sweetly from the floor above. Brett made a vaguely rude noise. “Sounds like the geezer’s having his usual wild night.”
“The geezer has a name, and you know it,” she said mildly. “It’s Mr. Crypinski.” The older man, a retired transit worker, owned the converted brownstone and lived on the second floor.
“Huh. Creepinski is more like it.”
She glanced at the teenager, startled by the rancor in his voice. “Did something happen between you two?”
“Nothing important.”
“Then you won’t mind telling me about it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you gotta know, I buzzed him and asked if he’d let me in so I could wait for you in the vestibule. And you know what he said? He said that I might have you fooled but he knew a shiftless young thug when he saw one.”
“Oh, dear. I can’t imagine…” Though gruff, her landlord had never been anything but kind toward her. Yet she also knew Brett well enough to know he never made things up. “I’ll talk to him.”
“No.”
“Brett—”
“No. He’s probably hoping you’ll do just that so he can call me a wuss or something. So just forget it, all right?”
She considered an instant, then nodded. “Okay.” She’d simply have to find a different
