Forbidden Fruit (24 page)

T
wo days after the
bal masqué,
during Sister Mary Catherine's lecture on Shakespeare's
Taming of the Shrew,
Liz's worst nightmare became a reality. The principal summoned Liz to the office; when she got there, she saw that Hope St. Germaine waited for her.

She and Glory had been found out.

Liz gazed at the woman in dawning horror, then shifted her gaze to Sister Marguerite. She held out the green call slip, her hand shaking badly. “You…you wanted to see me, Sister?”

The principal stepped forward, her expression forbidding. “Come in, Liz. Close the door behind you.”

Liz did as the principal asked, though she could hardly breathe, she was so afraid. She searched for another reason Glory's mother could be here with Sister Marguerite, for another reason she could have been called to the office, another reason they would look so grim.

She came up with none.

Door closed, Liz turned and faced the two women once more, clasping her trembling hands in front of her. She looked from Sister Marguerite to Hope St. Germaine and back.
What were they going to do to her?

“Take a seat, dear.” Sister motioned toward the chair in front of her desk, then went and took her own chair.

Pulse pounding in her head, Liz did, then folded her hands in her lap and met the principal's eyes.

“Do you have any idea why I've called you to my office, Liz?”

Liz shook her head and clasped her hands tighter in her lap. “No, Sister.”

“You're here because Mrs. St. Germaine has leveled some very serious charges against you.”

“Against me?” Liz whispered, her voice sounding high and scared.

“That's right.” Sister looked at Glory's mother, then back at Liz. “Can you imagine what they might be?”

She shook her head, her mouth dry, her palms wet. “No, Sister.”

Hope St. Germaine cleared her throat and stepped forward. “May I, Sister?”

The principal hesitated, then nodded. “All right.”

Hope faced Liz. “The time has come, young lady, to stop playing games. I know what's been going on. I know you've been helping my daughter to trick me. I know you've been covering for her, lying for her.”

It had happened, just as Liz had feared it would. Glory's mother had found them out; now they were both in trouble.
Big trouble.

Liz looked helplessly at the principal. She saw that there would be no help from the other woman, and her vision blurred with tears. Liz bowed her head.

Why had she agreed to help Glory? Why had she gone against what she knew to be safe and smart and done what Glory wanted her to do?

“You've been helping facilitate a romance between my daughter and a totally unsuitable boy. Haven't you, Liz?” Glory's mother let the words, the accusation hang in the air for a moment, then went in for the kill. “Maybe you even encouraged her. Maybe the lies and tricks were your idea?”

“No!” Liz jerked her head up. “That's not true! It wasn't like that!” Mrs. St. Germaine took a step closer, her icy blue gaze boring into Liz's. Liz shrank against the chair back. “It wasn't,” she said again, this time weakly. “I promise.”

“Then why don't you tell us what is true, Liz?” Hope smiled, though without warmth. “We wouldn't want to accuse you unfairly.”

Liz drew a deep breath, feeling sick to her stomach. She wished she had never agreed to help Glory; she wished Glory hadn't told her what she and Santos had done the night of the ball. And she wished she could lie about her involvement in the whole thing. But she had the feeling Hope St. Germaine knew everything anyway, and if caught in one lie, her position would only be worsened.

“Well?” Hope demanded, impatient. “Did you aid Glory in her deception?”

Liz nodded, but didn't look up or speak.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, ma'am,” she murmured.

“And on Saturday night, this last Saturday night, did you cover for Glory at the Leukemia Society's
bal masqué,
going so far as to change into her gown and mask so she could slip out of the hotel to be with this boy?”

Liz nodded again. “Yes, ma'am.”

Sister Marguerite made a sound of disappointment. “You had such promise, Elizabeth. We believed in you. How could you have let us down this way?”

Liz lifted her gaze to the principal's, her vision swimming with tears. “I'm sorry, Sister. I didn't mean to…to let you down.”

“The conditions of your scholarship are quite clear. Moral turpitude will not be allowed.”

Liz jumped to her feet, panic taking her breath. “But I didn't know! I didn't do any—”

“Calm down, Liz,” Glory's mother interrupted softly. “Perhaps, if you tell us everything you know, perhaps then I'll be able to convince Sister to be lenient with you.”

A rush of relief moved over her. It would be okay, all she had to do was tell the truth. That wouldn't be betraying Glory; they knew everything already anyway.

Liz nodded and sat back down. “All right. What do you want to know?”

“Start from the beginning, Elizabeth. Start from when Glory met this boy.”

Nodding again, Liz began. She told them everything she could remember, beginning with the morning Glory had met her at the streetcar stop with the news about having met Santos, to the
bal masqué
and what Glory and Santos had done together.

When she had finished, Hope brought a hand to her chest, the color draining from her face. “Are you saying that my daughter…that she and this boy, that they—”

She stumbled over the words, and Sister Marguerite stepped in quickly. “Elizabeth Sweeney, are you saying that Glory and this boy were together in an…an unclean way? A way reserved for married couples only?”

Glory's mother hadn't known. Dear God, what had she done?

“Elizabeth? Is that what you're saying?”

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling sick to her stomach.

Sister Marguerite crossed herself; Glory's mother sank onto a chair, her face ashen.

“I didn't know,” Liz said, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I only found out what they'd done…after. If she had told me what she…planned, I would have refused to help her.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “You have to believe me!”

“And why is that?” Hope asked tightly, curving her hands into fists. “You've already proved yourself a liar.” She brought a shaking hand to her head. “And now my daughter and this…this scum—”

“Santos isn't scum! He's really not, Mrs. St. Germaine. He's a nice guy. And smart. He goes to the University of New Orleans, and as soon as he's twenty-one, he's going to the police academy.”

“That's enough, Elizabeth.” Sister Marguerite frowned. “I think we had better—”

“But you have to believe me! He loves Glory.” Liz wrung her hands and gazed beseechingly at Glory's mother. “He wanted to tell you and Mr. St. Germaine, he hated sneaking around. He didn't think it was right—”

“He did it anyway.”

“Only because Glory begged. They fought about it.” Liz swiped at her dripping nose with the back of her hand, and the principal handed her a tissue. “I tried to talk to her, too. I tried to convince her to tell you.”

“But she wouldn't listen.” Glory's mother stood, and collected her handbag and coat. “How convenient.”

“Because she was scared. She said you wouldn't approve, that you would break them up.”

“And why shouldn't I have broken them up?” Hope demanded, enraged. “This Victor Santos is worse than a nothing, he's a boy who preys on young and unsuspecting girls. He's despicable.”

“But he's…not. He's—” Liz began to cry in earnest, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. “If you would meet him, talk to—”

“I have. I know what kind of boy this Santos is.” Hope yanked on her leather gloves. “Did you even once think about coming to me or Sister Marguerite? Did it ever occur to you that maybe Glory was behaving self-destructively? That she needed guidance?”

Liz lifted her tear-soaked gaze. “She's my friend. I couldn't…I had to help her. She loves him so much.”

Hope looked at Liz, her icy expression filled with animosity. She bent down so that her face was level with Liz's. “I will not,” she said softly but evenly, “have Glory go the wicked way of…so many other girls. Do you understand? Glory is different, she succumbs easily to temptation. I will make sure that doesn't happen. No matter what I have to do.”

Liz shuddered and pressed farther back in her seat, feeling as if she had been touched by the icy hand of death. Poor Glory, she thought, her heart going out to her friend. What must it have been like to grow up with Hope St. Germaine for a mother? She couldn't even imagine.

And now she had done this.

As quickly as it had twisted, the woman's expression cleared. She straightened and glanced at Sister. “I can't tell you how distressed I am by this situation. Glory attends A.I.C. to protect her from these kinds of influences. Philip and I donate a great deal of money to this institution to ensure standards are maintained. I expect you to take care of this…situation immediately. Am I making myself clear?”

Sister Marguerite sighed. “We could explore several other options first. I hate to act rashly—”

“Rashly?” Hope repeated, lifting her eyebrows in cool outrage. “I hardly think what we're discussing is rash. Let's hope I don't decide to act ‘rashly' at endowment time.”

Sister Marguerite inclined her head. “I'll take care of it, Mrs. St. Germaine.”

Liz caught her breath, looking from one woman to the other, hysteria building inside her. Glory's mother had said she would try to convince Sister to be lenient. Instead, she was the one insisting that Liz be expelled. Hope St. Germaine had lied, coldly and cleverly. She had just tricked Liz into betraying her best friend.

What was she going to do?

Heart in her throat, Liz leaped to her feet. She turned to Glory's mother. “Please, Mrs. St. Germaine, please don't do this. Glory's my best friend. I was only trying to help.” She wrung her hands. “I'd never do anything to hurt her. I promise I wouldn't.”

“It's too late for that now, isn't it?” The woman's voice shook with controlled rage. “You've already done plenty to hurt her. She's spoiled now. Ruined.”

“I need this scholarship.” Liz started to cry, great racking sobs of despair. “Please. I beg you, don't have me expelled.”

“You should have thought of that before.” Hope St. Germaine made a sound of disgust and turned to the principal. “Sister?”

The nun nodded, and Liz watched Glory's mother leave the room. She turned back to the nun. She saw by the woman's closed expression that she found this entire scene disturbing and distasteful. She saw that all the pleading in the world would be futile. But she couldn't just give up.

“Please, Sister” she begged. “I need this scholarship. I promise I won't get in any more trouble. I'll triple my hours in the office, and the rest of the time I'll devote to my studies—”

“That's enough, Elizabeth. I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do.”

“But I didn't do anything, Sister! You're the principal, surely you can see—”

“The conditions of your scholarship are quite clear. You're required to hold yourself to the highest standards, both academic and moral.”

“But—”

“You didn't. I'm sorry, but you are no longer welcome at the Academy of the Immaculate Conception. I'll call your parents.”

Liz sank to the chair. She covered her face with her hands, crying into them. She had lost everything. Her scholarship. Her chance at the best colleges. Her future.
Everything. She had lost everything.

Sister handed her a tissue. “I am sorry, Liz. You have an excellent mind, and I know you have a bright future ahead of you despite this setback. I hope you have learned something from all this.”

Liz blew her nose. “Wha…what about…Glory?”

“That's none of your concern.”

The principal started to turn away. Liz touched her sleeve, stopping her. “But what will happen to her? Has she been expelled, too?”

For a moment, Sister said nothing, then simply, without inflection, murmured, “Her mother, and the Lord, will deal with her transgressions.”

Liz stared at Sister, stunned. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
She
was being expelled for covering for Glory's behavior, but the academy wasn't punishing
Glory
at all. How could Sister do that? It was so unfair. It was so—