Sinful Purity (Sinful Series) (13 page)

Being back at MIQ was odd. I felt like I had already been gone for an extended period of time. However, in reality it had only been three days. I felt relaxed in the familiar atmosphere. There weren’t any jerks knocking me over or any overly yappy girls wanting to chat. Everyone looked and acted normal to me. At MIQ Caleb would have been the abnormal one, not me.

I finished my chores and lingered just a little longer than I should have. It was getting late and I still had to walk the nearly three miles back to campus. I went upstairs to tell Sister Christine I was leaving. When I reached the threshold of her office door, I could hear arguing inside. The voices were difficult to make out. I was sure that one of them was Mother Superior, but I didn’t recognize the other voice. As I stepped closer to knock, I heard Sister Christine scream, “This has to stop!”

I took a step back, fearful of being discovered and having her wrath turned on me. Never in all the time I’d spent at MIQ had I ever heard Sister Christine yell, not even when I really deserved it. I couldn’t fathom what the child sitting in there had done to warrant this level of anger. The voices quieted. I stepped forward again and lightly knocked on the large wooden door. A hush fell over the inhabitants.

“Sister Christine? I’m done with my work. So I’m leaving to go back to school, okay?” I called to the locked door. The door slowly opened. Sister Christine stuck her head out. Her face was flushed with anger. Her eyes were glassy, like she could have been crying but without the tears. I had never seen her so shaken and weathered. I couldn’t decide if she looked ill or just exhausted.

“Then go, my child. Be safe on your walk home. We’ll see you tomorrow for Mass.” She shut the door and locked it as I left. I didn’t learn with whom she had been arguing. Whoever it was, I wouldn’t change places with them for anything.

It was eleven o’clock by the time I arrived back at my dorm. I’d missed dinner at the cafeteria because I was still at the orphanage, so I was thankful I’d grabbed a snack from the MIQ kitchen as I left. I was so tired from my day that I didn’t even touch my books or schoolwork. I just fell into bed.

The next morning I awoke to my alarm clock’s incessant buzzing. It was six thirty. The sun had barely risen over St. Paul’s domed roof. I looked out my dorm room window, taking in the beauty and majesty that was my new life. Basking in the glory of the exquisite buildings and the meticulously groomed landscapes, I felt like I was still in a dream state, unable to truly grasp that this was my new world. A bright and promising new world that I alone must brave.

My day, like the rest of the week, followed an emerging routine. Calculus was unbearably early and would not be one of my strongest subjects. Literature was my intellectual break. I was able to enjoy reading for the sake of reading, without worrying too much about comprehension because I had already read all the required books many times over. I could thank Brett for that. He had very good taste in books. As always, Caleb enlivened my Catholic traditions class. By the end of the first week, I knew it was going to take all my effort just to help him pass the course. He continued with the Our Lady of Perpetual Wisdom jokes, his pride growing with each witticism. I didn’t mind his quips too much. I knew he meant
them as a compliment. My two-hour midday break was spent in the cafeteria having lunch with Lucy and Caleb. Their fake animosity was a futile attempt at covering up their flirtation. After lunch the three of us would walk together to anatomy, where I was more than grossed out on a daily basis. I was extremely relieved that neither Caleb nor Lucy minded dissection. That way I could be the note-taker, thus keeping my lunch intact.

My last class of the day was where things always got a little sticky. Western civilizations was the one class I had with Bartlett, the tracksuit-wearing creep. The whole Queen Elizabeth incident still hadn’t subsided, mostly due to the fact that the professor, Mr. Jacarse, continued to call roll every day, regardless of the fact that there were only thirty-eight students in his class. He was already my least favorite teacher, mainly because he humiliated me every day. The jerk Bartlett never missed his cue.

“Ooooh, look, Queen Elizabeth has graced us with her presence. Ooooh, how simply marvelous,” he’d say, always in his high-pitched fake British accent.

That guy was just waiting for a smack in the face. If the sisters hadn’t been so efficient in preaching and punishing the defiance right out of me, I was sure I would have given into temptation days ago. I missed Kelly. If she’d been here, that guy would have gotten what he deserved the very first day.

My evenings were usually occupied. Mondays I helped out at St. Matthew’s. Tuesdays I worked at the orphanage. Wednesdays I attended evening Mass and confession at St. Matthew’s. Thursdays it was back to MIQ for more chores. Fridays and Saturdays were free for catching up on school assignments. Sundays I spent the day minding the children at the orphanage so that the sisters could attend Mass together at St. Matthew’s. My life, while boring and tedious, left little time for me to get in trouble, which I think was the whole idea. Both Sister Christine and Father Brennigan had made it very clear that while I might be out on my own, I was still to live as if I were behind the protective gates of Mary Immaculate Queen.

First Impressions

Sunday morning I arrived at Mary Immaculate Queen Orphanage by eight o’clock. Most of the sisters had already left for Mass at St. Matthew’s, leaving only Sister Christine to greet me. When I saw Mother Superior approach me, I could see the dark circles under her eyes. Her stony face was even more drawn than usual. Even from across the small courtyard I could see that she did not look well.

“Good morning, Mother,” I greeted politely with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Mary Elizabeth. The sisters and I won’t be long. Father Brennigan has a meeting this afternoon so there will only be three Masses this morning. We should be back by noon.”

I nodded. “I understand, Sister.”

“Good. You may let the children play here in the yard until lunchtime. We should be back shortly after that.”

“Very good, Sister. I’ll keep a close eye on the children,” I promised.

“Yes, I know you will.” Sister spun around to leave, giving the rosary hanging from her habit a little lift as she twirled.

I sat peacefully at the small table in the corner of the courtyard, watching the children play. I had sat at that very same table so many times before when I still lived here. I thought back to Kelly and Brett, my first birthday cake, and the day he told me of their deranged uncle and Kelly’s hidden torment. So many of the best and worst times of my life I had spent right here at this table. Somewhere between Kelly’s departure and mine, the familiarity of this place had been lost. My memories weren’t as vivid and the heartstrings didn’t pull quite as much as they once had. My childhood growing up at the orphanage seemed more like a dream to me now. I felt detached, removed from the intense sorrow and anger that were my childhood. Sitting here watching the unfamiliar children at play made me feel like a stranger, a volunteer just helping out. I no longer had a personal stake in the matter, not since I had gained my freedom.

I was deep in thought and self-analysis when I noticed a flash of bright blue, out of place among the typical wealthy and sophisticated churchgoers of St. Matthew’s. Once the crowd had cleared, I could distinctly make out the familiar black silhouette. The figure slowly approached the gates of MIQ, flanked by four older, more dignified individuals. Immediately I recognized the bright blue hair and the trench coat of Caleb Price. I couldn’t quite make out the piercings in the distance; however, studying them several hours a day during class, I was well aware that they were there.

As soon as I recognized the outsider as Caleb, I nervously slouched down, trying to blend in as much as possible. I didn’t want him to see me here. I didn’t want anyone from school to know about my unusual and shameful childhood. I had been very careful to make sure that I concealed my origins, avoiding unnecessary questions at all costs. Up until this point, I had done a pretty good job of it. I was quietly concealing myself from view waiting for the threat to pass when one of the younger Matthews came running over to me.

“Mary Elizabeth, Mary Elizabeth! I lost my ball!” the little voice called, completely blowing my cover.

Caleb must have heard the bellow of the little traitor as well because he immediately turned around, scanning the courtyard. Then he found me. He nodded in acknowledgement and waved as if to say, “I see you and I’m coming to get you.” My heart sank. There was no way I could get out of
this. I watched helplessly as he said his goodbyes to his four older companions and then headed over to the gate.

“Hey, if it isn’t Mary Elizabeth,” Caleb announced almost gleefully. I wished I could have shared his enthusiasm. But I didn’t.

I met him at the gate. “Hi, Caleb.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. I guess with a name like Mary Elizabeth, where else would you be? Like I said, Catholic to the core. So can I come in?” He hung on the gates like he was the one trapped behind them and not me.

“I’m sorry, Caleb. I don’t think that’s allowed.” Cautiously I hoped the rejection would encourage him to leave.

“Aw, Liz,” Caleb whined.

“Sorry, Caleb, it’s just the rules, nothing personal.”

“I really don’t think that the sisters or Father Brennigan will mind if you let me in. My family have been parishioners of St. Matthew’s forever. They’re here every Sunday without fail,” Caleb explained, sounding begrudgingly proud.

“Your family belongs to St. Matthew’s? And they’re here every Sunday?” I was amazed by my newfound knowledge. Sunday Mass was strictly for the elites. Caleb had struck me as many things, but elite was never one of them.

“Yes, Liz. My family attends Mass every Sunday right here at St. Matthew’s.” Caleb spoke very slowly in an obnoxious attempt to help me understand, exaggerating even more as he gestured toward the church.

“Fine, Caleb, I get it, you go to St. Matthew’s,” I conceded, irritated by his condescending behavior.

“Honestly, Liz, it’s true. My family are big supporters of St. Matthew’s. They were the people I was just talking to. We walked out of Mass together.”

“All right, I’ll let you in on two conditions. First, if you’re lying, I am never helping you with anything again. Second, you are going to have to tell me why on earth you have failed Catholic traditions three times if you’re Catholic and a devout member of St. Matthew’s.” Reluctantly I opened the gate. I wanted to trust Caleb, but so much didn’t make sense—his unconventional appearance, for one.

Caleb walked casually through the gate like it was no big deal. I had never seen anyone enter Mary Immaculate Queen Orphanage without seeming a little averse to the dismally bland penal surroundings. This
alone should have tipped me off. Caleb was even odder than I’d originally thought.

“Don’t worry, Liz. I’ll take the blame from the sisters if they get upset. Anyway, they need volunteers like you pretty badly. I doubt they’d tell you that you can’t come back.”

What a fortunate turn of events. Caleb thought I was, well, a volunteer. I sure wasn’t going to be the one to correct him.
Volunteer. I can live with that.

“Okay, then, what about the class?” I asked, reminding him of our deal.

“First, it wasn’t three times I failed. I said that this was the third time I was taking her class. So technically I only failed twice. As for the whole devout Catholic thing, those are your words, not mine. I told you my family were big supporters, not that I am. My parents and grandparents attend Sunday Mass here every week. I don’t. Today was more of an obligation, not my choice.” We made our way over to the small table where I had been sitting.

“Your family is
those
Prices?” My mind somersaulted and a light bulb went on. I felt like I had just had an epiphany.

“I don’t know. What Prices are ‘those’?” Caleb teased.

“I just mean that I have heard Father Brennigan speak highly of the Prices and their generosity. I think St. Matthew’s was completely renovated thanks to your family.”

“Wow, you have a good memory. That was years ago. How long have you been volunteering here?” Suspicion glinted in his eyes. I began to wonder if I had said too much.

“Oh, I…I’ve been with MIQ and St. Matthew’s a while now,” I answered nervously, expecting Caleb to see through me at any moment and proclaim me a huge liar.

“All right,” Caleb conceded, as if to assure me he had no intention of pushing for more information.

“Well, I should take the kids in for lunch,” I said, trying to stage my escape.

“Oh, okay. Do you want me to help? It looks like you have your hands full.” Caleb pointed across the courtyard where two little Matthews were pulling a little Mary’s hair.

“Hey, stop that!” I scolded, walking over to the two culprits.

“Well, Mr. Price. What grants us the pleasure of your company?” I heard Sister Christine’s voice, stern yet controlled and polite.

Wow, his family must have been important for Mother Superior to be so completely friendly, overlooking his less-than-church-like appearance. I quickly fixed little Mary’s hair and hurried back over where Caleb and Sister Christine were talking. I held my breath, praying that Sister Christine hadn’t told him about my lengthy incarceration here at MIQ.