Beautifully Forgotten (4 page)

Jimmy came to see him on the day he was being transported to juvie.

“Jimmy, man, what the fuck took you so long?”

“Got bad news. Boss man is going to let you hang.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Lucien demanded.

“Too much heat, dude. He’s got to cut you loose. You’re on your own.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What happened to the ‘we’re a family’ shit?”

“Sorry, dude.”

And without another word, Jimmy turned and walked away.

Lucien spent only two weeks in juvenile detention, and on the day he was released, he stood on the curb outside the building, planning to check on his money when the banks opened. He had been smart enough to open an account, because had he left it in a coffee can like Jimmy did, he knew it wouldn’t still be there. Yet his room at the club had been a perk of the job and, without that job, he was homeless—again.

His mind drifted to Darcy. He had a constant emotional tug-of-war over her—one minute he wanted to forget her and the next he missed her like hell.

He was bitter, yes, but it was Darcy, and all the bitterness in the world couldn’t turn his heart from her. He loved that girl and probably always would.

“Hey, you Lucien?”

As he turned, he moved up onto the balls of his feet just in case he needed to get away quickly. He eyed the kid—a couple years older than himself, dressed nicely, good haircut, fancy shoes, but there was no denying he had that hardness that only came from living on the streets. You could polish them up all you wanted, but underneath, he, like Lucien, was still a kid from the wrong zip code.

He gestured to the building behind Lucien before he said, “Did six months a few years back. Not too bad as long as you keep one eye open.”

“Shit, if that ain’t true.”

“I’m Dominic. I’ve been asked to offer you a job.”

Lucien was immediately skeptical—random people didn’t just stroll up to you and offer you a job. Not to mention that his timing was impeccable.

“You caught the eye of my boss and he’s feeling generous.”

“Who’s your boss?”

“If he wants you to know that, he’ll tell you.”

“Fair enough. What’s the job?”

“Oldest job there is.”

Immediately Lucien thought Dominic was talking about prostitution and getting paid to fuck and forget. Sign him up. Dominic clearly could tell what he was thinking. A grin cracked over his face. “Not that old. Grave digging.”

Lucien was sure he didn’t hear the guy right, because who the fuck dug graves anymore? “Say again?”

“My reaction too, but there are a few graveyards where the owner believes in a more personal touch. You would work mostly at night, you get paid a hundred fifty dollars a week, meals are included, and there’s housing—nothing fancy, but at least it’s not the streets. You interested?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, let’s walk and I’ll fill you in.”

Fourteen years earlier . . .

D
arcy sighed and tightened her arms around Lucien as he brushed his lips across the tender skin under her jaw. He moved slowly, building up the tension so that desire curled in her belly. Her hips tilted to take him deeper and her mouth pressed to his. The kiss grew a bit desperate as Darcy poured all her fears and hopes into it. She wanted it to always be like this between them, but change was coming. Lucien was turning eighteen, and with Sister Anne gone, he was leaving. Reality was a harsh truth and one that left her feeling adrift because she was unsure of what came next for them.

His head lifted and Darcy saw the concern in his eyes, even as lust made them glaze over. He gripped her hips and pulled her close as he moved deeper and faster. The orgasm rippled through her and brought tears to her eyes seconds before Lucien called out her name and emptied himself deep inside of her.

Afterward, he would hold her; and sometimes it seemed to Darcy that he liked the holding as much as the lovemaking. It was like he was seeking the same feeling of connection that she was.

“What’s wrong?” His soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Nothing.”

He leaned up on his elbow. “Come with me.”

Her heart leaped. “What do you mean?”

“When I leave, come with me.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I love you, Darcy, and I want you in my life. I don’t know where we’ll live or how we’ll get on, but I do know that I don’t want to go without you.”

She threw her arms around him, and he chuckled as he fell onto his back, his arms tightening around her. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Words wouldn’t come, so Darcy responded by holding him even more tightly.

“You thought I was going to leave without you, didn’t you?” His voice was whisper soft.

She nodded her head.

“Why?”

Her eyes were bright when she looked at him. “I never understood why someone like you would choose to hang out with someone like me.”

He rolled so that she was pinned underneath him and he looked almost angry. “Why do you do that? Why do you always think so little of yourself? Never mind, I know it’s because of your fucking mother. I shouldn’t need to say this, but I will: I never had any intentions of leaving here without you. How could you possibly think I could?”

“I was trying to be realistic. You’re moving on. It isn’t unreasonable to believe that you’d forget me in time.”

“Forget you? How the hell could I ever forget you?”

Darcy was yanked from the dream when her alarm went off, but it took a minute for the memory of it to fade. She climbed from bed and shut the buzzer off. Lucien had forgotten her; just how soon after he’d left had she slipped from his mind? It wasn’t a question she needed an answer to.

She splashed some water on her face and reached for her toothbrush, her eyes falling on her Manhattan College mug on the counter. Her life had definitely gone in a direction she had never seen coming.

At sixteen, she’d planned to run away with Lucien. As an adult, she now understood the flaws in their plans; he’d been almost eighteen, so he could have left with no problem, but would she have escaped so easily? Probably not, but the idea of it had been so romantic that she hadn’t seen the pitfalls in their plan, only the happily-ever-after they would have had.

But the day they’d planned to leave, fate stepped in. She didn’t know the man who came to see her, but he’d confirmed her secret fear that though Lucien wanted to take her with him now, when they were out in the real world he would grow tired of her. She wavered in her intent to go. Her worry wasn’t for herself, but for Lucien. The man knew all the right things to say, held the mirror to her face, so to speak, and her sixteen-year-old self wasn’t strong enough in her convictions to fight for Lucien. She’d let him go, and what hurt more was how easily Lucien had walked away.

The year after Lucien had left was the hardest of her life. Darcy had hounded Sister Margaret for any news about him, and when she’d learned how much he was struggling, it had enraged her. The man who had promised her he’d look out for Lucien had been lying. She wanted to seek Lucien out and beg him to forgive her, to take her back, but then her life took another turn: one that left her broken.

She’d struggled to get through each day, and then a year after she left St. Agnes she got a summons from Sister Margaret. Seeing St. Agnes again after being away for so long had left her with the same feeling of awe she had felt the first time she had seen it. The old brownstone looked its age and yet dignity and charm exuded from the place. And the grounds were unbelievable considering it was located in the city; looking out the windows you saw green grass and trees. The sight almost didn’t seem real. It was as if the building had been there long before the city, and the city built itself around it.

Darcy vividly remembered the day, a year after her mom had taken her back, that had changed her life
again,
even down to how Sister Margaret had looked sitting behind the desk in the small room that acted as her office.

Twelve years earlier . . .

“Darcy, sit.”

Sister Margaret was not one for unnecessary words. Darcy settled into the old vinyl chair.

“You’ve been offered a scholarship to Manhattan College.”

Darcy had no reaction to the statement—she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard the words correctly.

“Did you hear me? You are getting an opportunity to go to college.”

“How?”

Sister Margaret waved off her question. “It’s not important.” Sincerity drifted into her expression when she added, “You’ve had a tough time of it, but you have your whole life ahead of you. This is a chance for you to take control.”

“But I can’t afford to go to school.”

“Tuition and housing are all covered in the scholarship. Look, I dedicated my life to the church, so I called in a few favors and made this happen. The least you can do is accept it.”

“But why are you helping me?”

“You have had more than your share of pain, and sometimes the helping hand of another can make all the difference. I know this isn’t where you hoped to be, but maybe you’ll find you like the direction this takes you.”

Darcy couldn’t help but think there was more to it. Sister Margaret
was not the warm and thoughtful type and yet here she was offering her a chance.

“Do you want to stay under the control of your mother or do you want to get away from your mom and be the master of your own destiny?”

Those were the magic words: away from your mom. Darcy couldn’t help but feel that this offer was penance of some kind for Sister Margaret, but penance for what, Darcy didn’t know. She couldn’t lie—she wanted to take it. Wanted to run from her past and never look back.

“How will I ever repay you?”

Sister Margaret leaned back in her chair. “Don’t squander the opportunity. Make something of yourself and we’ll call it even.”