Forbidden Fruit (26 page)

A
s Hope St. Germaine suggested, Santos went to Lily. He told Lily everything, about meeting Glory, about falling in love with her, about Glory's mother and the vile things she had said. He shared his fury, his fears and finally, he asked Lily the questions Hope St. Germaine had thrown at him.

Go back to your dirty whore. Ask her about me. Ask her if you're good enough for Glory.

Pale, shaken, Lily sank to the couch. She bowed her head.

Santos sat beside her. “Lily,” he said softly, taking her hand. “Who is she?”

For long moments, Lily said nothing. Finally, she lifted her gaze to his. The expression in her eyes took his breath. “She's my…Hope is my…daughter.”

Santos stared at Lily, stunned, disbelieving. He shook his head. Hope and Lily were…mother and daughter?

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, studying Lily, thinking of her daughter. He saw the family resemblance, one of coloring and feature, only now, after knowing the truth. That resemblance was obscured not only by age, but by something that ran much deeper than physical characteristics, by something that printed itself clearly on them.

Kind versus cruel. Light versus dark.

Good versus evil.

A chill ran up his spine. Even as he shuddered with it, he shook the sensation off. He thought of what Lily had told him of her ungrateful daughter and of her heartless desertion. He would expect that of the woman he had come to know as Glory's mother.

He had fallen in love with Lily's granddaughter.

The truth of that hit him like a thunderbolt. No wonder it had felt so right—so fast—between them. Something of Lily lived in Glory, something essential. And he had been drawn to it.

He cleared his throat. “Why didn't you tell me?” he asked. “Didn't you feel you could trust me?”

“That wasn't it,” she murmured, her voice choked with tears. “I would trust you with my life, Victor. But I couldn't tell you. I promised. She didn't want anyone to…to know that—”

“That you're her mother.” Santos made a sound of disgust, his dislike of Lily's daughter so potent he felt it like a physical thing. “You don't see anything wrong with that, Lily? It doesn't make you angry?”

“You don't understand, you—” She brought a hand to her mouth as if holding back a sound of great pain. After a moment, she continued, “She made a life for herself, a good life. A clean one. She left behind the Pierron legacy of sin. That legacy has been a great darkness hanging over my life. She's free of it.”

“Glory knows about you, about my angel of mercy.” He smiled, and rubbed her hand between his. “This is your chance to know your granddaughter. You've yearned for her, to be a part of her life, now you can be.”

Lily began to tremble, and he tightened his fingers over hers. “She already thinks you're wonderful. Once she gets to know you, she'll love you as much as I do.”

“No.” Lily freed her hand from his, averting her gaze. “Never. I won't meet her.”

“But why? She's not like your daughter. She's warm and loving and…she's like you, Lily.”

The blood drained from Lily's face, and she swayed slightly, as if suddenly faint. “Don't say that. Never say that, Santos.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Anger took his breath. And frustration. He hadn't realized how deeply in-grained her shame was. And he hadn't realized that, in a way, Hope's hatred of her mother mirrored Lily's hatred of herself.

“This is crazy, Lily. You long to know her, to be with her. This is your chance.”

She shook her head, shrinking back as if repelled. “I don't want her to know what her grandmother was. I don't want her to know what she comes from. Not ever.”

Santos knew Lily well enough to know that she had made up her mind. He tried one last time, anyway. “That was in the past. That's not who you are. Your good heart is.”

He got off the couch and kneeled before her. “Lily, I know good from bad, right from wrong.” He caught her her hands again, forcing her to look at him. “You're good, Lily. You took me in, you cared for me and gave me a home. You gave me love. You did that, and I was nobody to you.”

He sucked in a quick breath. “What your daughter did, how she treats you, is wrong. Your feelings are wrong. Knowing you would enrich Glory's life. Being with your daughter would enrich hers. They're the ones who are losing out.”

Tears welled in Lily's eyes, and her lips quivered with the effort of holding them in check. When she finally spoke, her voice was a thready whisper. “I couldn't bear it if…if she rejected me, too. I couldn't bear it if she looked at me in that…way. I don't want her to know. You must…promise me.”

He searched her gaze. “I can't do that, Lily. I won't make a promise I know I can't keep.”

A tear slipped past her guard and rolled slowly down her cheek. “Grab your chance at love, Santos. But you must leave me behind. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but you cannot be a part of Glory's life and of mine. You'll have to choose.”

F
or a long time, Glory sat in the stairwell outside Liz's apartment, immobilized by despair and a suffocating feeling of dread. She didn't know what to do; she couldn't think, couldn't focus enough to decide on a course of action.

From outside, she heard the rumble of thunder. From inside Liz's apartment, the sound of silence. Finally.

She dropped her head to her hands. Her mother knew everything.
Everything.
A cry raced to her lips. If only she had listened to Santos. And Liz. But she hadn't, and now she had lost her best friend and faced losing Santos.

How would she go on without him? How could she go back to living the way she had before Santos and Liz? Alone, she had been so alone. And so very lonely.

She couldn't. There had to be a way to make this all right. There had to be someone who could help her. Someone who would understand and side with her and Santos.

Her father. He was the only one.

Glory lifted her head and wiped the tears from her cheeks. If she could get him on her and Santos's side, as she had planned to before, she could enlist his help in facing her mother. All she had to do was convince him that she and Santos loved each other and that they were meant to be together.

Her father would help her.

But she had to reach him before her mother did.

Without pausing for further thought, she jumped up and raced for her car. As she slid behind the wheel, it began to rain. Dark clouds obscured the late-afternoon sky, making it seem much later than it was; gusts of wind bent the branches of the ancient oaks that lined the street and whipped up trash and leaves from the curbs and gutters.

Glory made her way to the hotel, her mind whirling with what she would say to her father, how she would convince him. Once she had talked to him, once she had gotten him on their side, she would call Santos. She wished with all her heart that she had done this sooner, when Santos had urged her to.

But it would be all right. Her father would help them; she and Santos would be together. Somehow, her father would convince her mother to have Liz's scholarship reinstated. She held on to that thought as she fought her way uptown, carefully navigating the slippery streets and rush-hour traffic.

The valets were busy, so Glory parked directly across from the hotel. She hopped out of her car just as the sky unleashed a flood. Oblivious to the cold rain, she darted across St. Charles Avenue and into the hotel, acknowledging neither the doorman nor the concierge's greeting.

She took the stairs to her father's third-floor office, praying he was there. She ran past his secretary and into the office, slamming the door behind her.

Her mother had beaten her here.

Glory stopped in her tracks, out of breath, battling tears and disappointment, disappointment so bitter it burned her tongue. Her mother had wasted no time filling her father in. He looked as if he had aged ten years since she had seen him last, just that morning.

Yet her mother looked almost radiant.

“Glory Alexandra,” she said softly but with an edge of steel, “we were just talking about you.”

Glory shifted her gaze from her mother to her father, still hopeful. “Daddy, you have to help me.”

“Help you what?” her mother demanded. “Lie to us some more? Deceive us? Your father knows about your tricks. He knows how you…shamed us.”

Glory's eyes welled with tears. She held a trembling hand out to her father. “Please, Daddy, just listen.”

Hope shook her head. “We expected better of you. We expected better than the behavior of a…a whore.”

“That's not true!” Glory spun on her mother. “This is exactly what you expected from me. You're even happy, aren't you?”

“You hear the way she talks to us, Philip? Dear God, what has our daughter become?”

Hope brought a hand to her mouth as if heartsick and horrified; Glory knew better and looked at her father once more. “Don't listen to her, Daddy. She hates me, she always has. She wants to hurt me, to take away everyone I love. Please, Daddy, this time listen to me.”

For one moment, she thought he would side with her, that he would stand up for her. Then he spoke and her hope died.

“How could you do this, Glory? How could you lie to us this way? We're your parents, we want the best for you. And you show your respect for us and yourself by…by sleeping around?”

Tears choked her. She couldn't have believed her father would ever say such a thing to her, that he would ever look at her the way he was looking at her now. “I haven't slept around! I haven't! There's only been Santos, and I love him. I love him so much—”

Her father made a sound of disgust, cutting her off. “Forget him, Glory. He's trash. He's a bad boy. The kind of boy who uses innocent girls—”

“How can you say that? You've never even met him! You've only listened to what
she
has to say.” She heard the note of hysteria in her voice, felt the emotion building to a fever pitch inside her, but she could neither control nor stop it. “He's not trash, he's not bad! He's good to me. He's honest and smart. And I love him.”

Hope crossed to stand before her; she looked her square in the eye. “That boy only wanted one thing from you. And he got it.”

Glory recoiled from the venom in her mother's voice, the pure hatred in her expression. “That's not true! He…he…” Tears flooded her eyes, and she battled them back. If only Santos had said he loved her. She could hold on to that now; she could throw it up to her parents as proof.

But he hadn't said it.

“I love him,” she finished, her tears spilling over. “With all my heart.”

Her mother caught her arms and shook her. “Wake up, Glory! This boy is a user. You're only one of many girls for him.”

“That's not true!” Sobbing, Glory struggled against her mother's grasp. Her mother tightened her grip, fingers digging painfully into Glory's flesh.

“It is true. He has other girlfriends, lots of them! I checked him out. If only we had known before you…before you threw yourself away on him.”

“No! I don't believe you! There were other girls but they didn't mean anything to him. It's me he cares about. It is.”

Her father made a heavy sound and crossed to stand beside them. He put his arm around Glory, trying to comfort her. Pitying her. “I'm sure you do believe you're in love with him. He's older, more experienced. A young girl like yourself can be easily convinced.”

He drew her into his side. “I'm at fault, I know. I should have told you how boys can be, the things they will say and do to get what they want. Some boys will do anything to…to have their way with a girl. I'm so sorry, poppet. I know how much this must hurt—”

“Don't you call me that!” She jerked free of his arm. “You lost the right to call me that a long time ago. You lost the right when you stopped believing in me!”

He took an involuntary step backward, his expression wounded. “Glory, I—”

“You don't know anything about Santos! He's good and kind, and he loves me. I know he does!” She swiped at her tears. “I'm going to be with him. And I don't care what you two say!”

“I warned him,” Hope said evenly, her voice, her words, cutting like a knife, “that if he saw you again, I would have him arrested for statutory rape.”

Glory brought a hand to her mouth.
Her mother had seen Santos. She had threatened him.

“That's right, Glory Alexandra. You're a minor. He's an adult. He took advantage of you. There are laws—”

“Daddy! Please!” She caught her father's hands and looked into his eyes, begging. “Don't you see what she's doing? She hates me. She wants to control my life.”

Philip sighed and curled his fingers around her. “Your mother and I have disagreed in the past over discipline, but I'm with her on this one, Glory. She only wants the best for you. And this boy…he's not it.”

When Glory tried to pull away, he tightened his fingers. “You won't believe this now, but someday you'll thank us. Someday you'll see that we were right about this boy.”

Hysterical, Glory sprang away from him. “I hate you! You always side with her, no matter what she does or says. You never side with me. I hate you!”

Her father blanched at her words, and Glory felt a moment of regret, but she couldn't stop the flood of anger, bitterness and disappointment, from spewing from her. She wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt her, wanted to wound him for all those times he had given his allegiance to his wife, no matter what.

“If you loved me, if you had any guts at all, you'd stand up to her. I pity you as much as I hate you. Do you hear me, I wish you weren't even my father!”

Hope made a grab for Glory, catching her arms, her nails digging, clawlike, into Glory's flesh. “You will not see this boy again,” she said, shaking her so hard Glory's teeth rattled. “You will not.”

“Hope!” Philip shouted, grabbing Hope's arm to pull her off Glory. “For God's sake! Maybe we should listen to her. She's never lied to us before. Maybe this boy isn't—”

Hope shook off his hand, her face pinched with rage. “You know nothing, Philip! You're blind when it comes to her, you always have been. I'm taking care of this. I'm sending her away, to a school that won't tolerate this kind of behavior.”

“No! I won't go. You can't make me!” Glory flailed out with her arms, striking her mother in the shoulder, then neck. Her mother made a sound of pain, released Glory and stumbled backward.

Glory turned and ran.

She cleared the office, and made the stairs. Her father called after her; she didn't stop or even pause. She heard him follow her, heard her mother shout for the secretary to call security.

Glory made it down the stairs and across the lobby. She stumbled and righted herself, then pushed past the shocked doorman and outside. Late afternoon had given way to evening; the storm raged at full peak now, the rain coming down in blinding sheets.

She ran to the edge of the sidewalk. Her hair and clothes were immediately soaked and plastered to her body. She glanced quickly over her shoulder and saw her father. He was right behind her.

“Glory!” he shouted. “Wait! I'll listen. We'll work this out. I promise we will.”

She hesitated, then shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Not if her mother had anything to say about it. Her mother would make sure she was locked away; she would make sure she never saw Santos again.

Her father called out to her once more. Glory darted into the street, then raced across it.

As she reached neutral ground, she heard the blare of a horn, the sickening screech of tires. She whirled in time to see the impact of the vehicle throwing her father into the air.

The next moments were a blur. She heard her own scream, the shout of the doorman, the hysterical babbling of the driver who had hit her father. She found her way to her father's side and dropped to her knees beside him.

His head was turned at an odd angle; he was completely motionless. But his eyes were open. “Daddy,” she whispered, reaching out to smooth the hair away from his forehead. “Daddy, are you…okay?”

His head felt warm, sticky. She jerked her hand away. And saw the blood. It was everywhere, mixing with the rain, creating rivers of red. She stared at it in dawning horror. A scream rose in her throat, it came out as a strangled cry of disbelief. Of grief.

She bent down, curved her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest, her own hateful words ringing in her head. “I didn't mean it. What I said…I didn't…I love you…Daddy…”

The wail of sirens cut through the night; she tightened her arms around him, sobbing. “Be okay…Please, Daddy. I love you…so much…Don't…leave me. Please…you can't die.”

Her mother came up beside her. Glory lifted her watery gaze. Her mother looked down at her, dry-eyed, composed. “Are you happy now, Glory Alexandra? You see what your wanton, reckless behavior has caused? You see what you have done? You did this. This is your fault.”

Glory struggled to breathe past her tears, feeling as if she were choking on despair. “No, Mama…” She shook her head. “No—”

“Yes.” Her mother pointed at her. “He was chasing you. It's your fault he ran out into the street. Your fault he didn't see that car.”

Sobbing, Glory buried her face in her father's chest, clinging to him. “No…Mama, please…It's not—”

“Yes. See what you've done.”

Her mother knelt beside her. She pried Glory's arms free and dragged her away from her father. She caught her shoulders, then chin, forcing her to look at his lifeless face, at the rivers of blood. Glory's stomach rose to her throat. She clutched at her middle, doubling over.