Gateway to Heaven (20 page)

When he felt Megan tense, heard her cry of uncertainty, the spell abruptly shattered.

He whipped his hand away from her and rolled off her. Megan was staring at him, wide-eyed.

* * * *

“
Are you okay?” he demanded.

“
Yes. I’m sorry, it just…” Her words trailed off when she fully took in Christian’s expression.

His anxiety was palpable. Why was he looking at her so strangely, like he thought she was going to break apart at his touch? Even as her mouth moved to ask the question out loud, her mind provided her with the answer. The amorphous uncertainty that had been plaguing her throughout the day suddenly crystallized.

She felt stripped bare beneath his fierce gaze.

Neither of them spoke as Megan reached for the sheet and drew it over her nakedness. She’d never realized that silence had the ability to confer as much pain as words until that moment.

“
Your family. All of them knew?” she whispered. She kept her eyes averted, but she raised her chin in a show of brittle defiance.

“
Just my parents and Katie,” Christian said woodenly.

Powerful emotions clogged her throat. Megan didn’t know if she felt more like shouting or crying.
She should have known
. She was so stupid. Suddenly, the logic behind Katie’s kindness and Caroline’s maternal solicitude were all too clear to her. And Christian’s new wariness around her, his odd behavior in regard to sleeping in her room, his sudden disinterest in availing himself of her proposal to make love: all of that made sense, too.

Bitterness clawed at her throat when she recognized that she would never escape a past that she couldn’t even recall. She was surprised at how much she’d come to need Christian’s honest, healthy sexual desire for her. It had somehow made her feel whole, like the sexual being that she was entitled to be. Now, her past had touched him too. Like almost everyone else, he was going to treat her like she was a piece of fragile porcelain.

“
What about you? You didn’t know. Not in the beginning, anyway. I would bet on it. Who told you?”

Christian sat up slowly, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. “Hilary. She came by the night after I made you dinner.”

Megan’s defiant expression broke. “Hilary?”

“
She wanted me to leave you alone.”

Christian saw how she stiffened in disbelieving anger. How could Hilary have done that to her? He leaned toward her. “Maybe she did it for the wrong reasons. But I’m glad that she told me.”

“
Why?”

“
Because it’s part of who you are, part of your history. I want to know all of you, Megan.”

Her spine stiffened. “If you think that by knowing that I was sexually abused when I was three years old will make you understand me, Christian, you’re very wrong.”

His eyes flared with emotion. “And if you believe that I’m that simple-minded, you’ve got another thing coming yourself.”

Megan didn’t falter under his hard stare. Equal passion stormed in her breast. It was Christian who finally muttered a curse and turned away. She watched him silently as he got up from the bed. He moved like an old man.

He seemed undecided as he stood with his back to her. He finally took a deep breath and exhaled, turning toward her. “Maybe now isn’t the time to go into this. I’m going to be busy tomorrow with the concert. I won’t be home until eleven or twelve. Will you be here? So that we can talk?”

“
I don’t know what my plans will be,” she said, wanting to hurt him with her careless tone. She felt exposed…helpless.

Hurt.

Christian’s expression said that he thought she was acting childish. For a second, he looked like he was going to argue with her. Then he stalked out of the bedroom, muttering sarcastically as he went, “Well, why don’t you just let me know when you do know, honey?”

Chapter 10

“
Mom?”

Megan’s voice seemed to echo off the walls in the house where she’d grown up. Had it always seemed this empty, so bereft of life? Or was she just seeing things through the haze of melancholy that had surrounded her since Christian left last night? Her gaze took in the familiar furniture, now beginning to show signs of wear and age.

The few pictures of Hilary and herself that were scattered around the living room didn’t impart a sense of intimacy or warmth that one might expect of family pictures. It hurt her to admit it, but she couldn’t imagine her mother picking up a framed childhood picture of her and smiling with warmth and nostalgia. No, the photos scattered around the room were tokens of love, but the ones of her, at least, were obligatory, regretful ones. Megan had always known this. She couldn’t understand why she felt the old pain so poignantly today.

“
Meg?” Linda Shreve smiled thinly as she left the hallway. “Why, I haven’t seen you in a week. Hilary says that Jewish man—what’s his name—is letting you show some of those statues that you make. I guess that’s why you’ve been too busy to stop by.”

“
Rosenfeld, Mom,” Megan murmured as she hugged her mother. She felt light and hollow beneath Megan’s hands. When her mother began to back away, Megan surprised both of them by momentarily tightening the hug.

Linda laughed uncomfortably. “Well, what’s gotten into you, Meg?” Her pale eyes searched her daughter’s face anxiously. “Is everything all right, sweetheart?”

Megan smiled brightly, automatically doing what was expected of her. “Of course, Mom. Everything is great.”

Her mother didn’t look entirely convinced as she beckoned Megan into the kitchen while she put a pot on the stove for tea. For a while, Megan just sat quietly and listened to her mother’s customary ramble about the small, inconsequential details that formed the pattern of her life. Megan blinked into full awareness when her mother set a cup of steaming tea in front of her, followed by a small pitcher of cream and a sugar bowl.

“…
asked Phillip Barton, who lives next door, to put an extra lock on the back door before that block party tonight. I know Father Gregory has made a load of money for St. Cat’s by having that rock concert, but I never sleep a wink until that thing is over and done with every year. Seems like it’s an open invitation to every freak and criminal to come and loiter around our neighborhood,” Linda fretted.

Megan stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her tea. “We’ve never had any trouble around the house during the St. Cat’s block party, have we?”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a flat line. “We haven’t yet. It’s just a matter of time, though, with all the alcohol and drugs floating around just a few square blocks.”

Megan sipped her tea. “Father Greg seems to have developed excellent relations with the Chicago police over the past several years. Everyone gets searched before entering the blockades. From what I’ve heard, the festival usually is a miracle of organizational smoothness,” Megan said reassuringly.

Although she had never desired to attend the festival, Megan knew the block party had monumental financial significance to St. Cat’s. Her proximity to the administrative aspects of the parish through her job as a teacher had only reinforced how crucial the annual festival was to the functioning of St. Catherine’s and its various programs. It was because of the festival that the school board was able to offer her a full-time teaching position next term.

Her mother scowled. “Just a matter of time before something happens. Mark my words.”

They both sipped at their tea.

“
Mom, why didn’t we move away? After what happened with Henry Nightingale?”

She thought she could have heard a butterfly flutter its wings in the absolute silence that followed. The hand holding her mother’s teacup froze in midair. In her momentary vulnerability, Megan glimpsed a shadow of the beauty that her mother had once possessed.

“
I’ve asked you never to speak that man’s name in this home.”

Megan closed her eyes in brief annoyance at the predictable response. Her mother’s next words were equally expected.

“
Are you feeling all right, Meg? Why in God’s name would you bring that up?”

“
I’m feeling fine, Mom. I was wondering about it, that’s all. Abby McCarthy’s family moved away after the trial, didn’t they?”

“
You’re father said Dale McCarthy was a coward for doing that,” Linda Shreve said in a hard voice. “This was our home. We weren’t going to run from it, with our tails tucked between our legs.”

“
Is that how you and Daddy felt?” Megan asked slowly. “Like you were being shamed…punished? Like living with Henry Nightingale’s crime day in and day out was some kind of sentence passed down on you?”

Her mother’s teacup clattered loudly when it fell to the table. Megan flinched back to avoid the hot tea that almost splashed on her.

“
Hilary told me that some man has been nosing around you. Is that what’s brought up all of this nonsense?”

Megan shook her head. “No,
no
, Mom. It’s not that. Here, let me get something to clean that up.” Neither of them spoke as Megan ripped off some paper towels and soaked up the tea from the table. When she eventually met her mother’s eyes, she felt responsible for the anguish she saw there.

“
Why can’t we just let it go?” Megan entreated in a whisper. “Why do we always have to carry it on our shoulders like an invisible burden?” She noticed how her mother looked offended at the suggestion, as if she had suggested they sacrifice their family ties or the church.

Megan had already given up any vague hopes that she had possessed by the time she threw the soaked paper towels in the garbage. Her mother was watching her anxiously when she turned around from the sink.

“
Something has got you upset, Meg. Have you seen the doctor recently?”

* * * * *

Megan crossed Adams Street later that morning with the sound of hammers and workmen’s voices resounding in her ears, a testament to the last minute preparations that were going on for the St. Cat’s block party. Already, Adams had been blocked off just after Halsted, and vendors were setting up their wares along every cross street. The St. Cat’s block party included several smaller stages that were set up along separate intersections in the neighborhood where bands played throughout the afternoon. The headliner performed on the main stage, located in the large park next to St. Catherine’s, at the intersections of Jackson and Williams. Over the past few years, Jackson and Williams had become lined with medium and high-rise condominium residence buildings, and these were the reason that Father Gregory had called and asked Megan’s assistance earlier.

The elderly priest was brimming with good cheer and crisp, administrative purpose this morning. His eyes brightened when Megan peeked into his office.

“
You wanted to see me, Father?”

“
Yes, thank you for coming by. I know I turned down your request to help at the block party several weeks ago, but something has been brought to my attention, and I’m going to need some assistance with it. Are you free this evening?”

She nodded, knowing that even if she decided to see Christian, it would be later in the evening.

Father Gregory rapidly explained his dilemma. “It’s all of these residences that they’ve put up along Jackson and Williams. Most of them have balconies and terraces, and provide prime viewing of the main stage for the concert. It’s come to our attention that the St. Cat’s block party is becoming a regular event for some of the people who live there. They throw parties and everyone gets a free ticket to the show.”

The priest’s eyes danced merrily. “Now, I’m not saying that what they’re doing is wrong, of course. It is their home, after all. But the thought occurred to us that quite a few of the residents, and even the party attendees, might agree to make a donation to St. Cat’s if they were provided the opportunity.”

Megan smiled at the priest’s wiliness. “Especially if they were caught entering the building with their kegs of beer and catered party trays?”

“
Exactly,” Father Gregory said smugly. “The managements of four out of five of the buildings that surround the park have agreed to allow church representatives to collect donations in their lobbies. Would you be available for just a couple of hours before the concert starts at eight o’clock, and stay maybe until eight thirty or so?”

Megan agreed and took the address from Father Gregory. It would do her good to keep her mind busy on something, instead of focusing on the fact that she couldn’t just be considered a normal woman for once in her life. She turned her face to the hot summer sun as she walked down Adams. It was a perfect day for a music festival, but a rotten one for feeling depressed.

She paused for a fraction of a second when she saw Hilary waiting in 748’s lobby.

“
Hey,” Hilary greeted her with a smile and a brief kiss. Megan thought how young and pretty Hilary looked in a casual, pink and white sundress and sandals.

“
Do you have a minute to talk?” Hilary asked.

She tried to keep her voice neutral, even though she was still irritated with Hilary. “Sure, if you can wait while I change clothes. I had no idea it was going to get so hot today.”

They chatted amiably enough on the elevator ride up to Megan’s loft. She left her sister making a pot of coffee while she went to change into shorts.