Tempted by Evil (3 page)

“Mother Superior said it made my responses seem tentative, and that I needed to be assertive and assured as a sign of faith,” I explained softly and sadly, knowing that I had always lacked the faith that Mother Superior desperately wished me to have.

“I don’t agree with that at all,” Julian shot back, not at me, but seemingly at Mother Superior. “It looks meek and gentle.” He looked at me with great warmth in his eyes.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling the weight of the air around me.

“Not to mention it’s sexy as hell,” he threw out with his cat-like grin, instantly lightening the mood.

I blushed.

“So why are we just standing here?” I questioned Julian sarcastically. “I thought you were teaching me how to have fun.”

“Oh, we’re gettin’ there,” he replied with a cocky tone that made the butterflies in my stomach flutter in unison.

“Are we now?” I allowed my tone to mirror his, knowing that flirting was uncharted territory for me. But I wanted so desperately to pull a page from Marianne Dashwood’s handbook in
Sense and Sensibility
.

He smiled wryly, grabbing my hands in his and turning around to skate backwards so that he could pull me along with him. We began soaring over the frozen pond as if we really were flying. The wind from the speed of the movement caused my eyelashes to stick to my eyelids so that I couldn’t even blink, ensuring I wouldn’t miss a second of the world standing still around us while we moved together perfectly.

“I can’t believe this,” I exclaimed breathlessly, staring up into his blue eyes. “I’m actually ice skating―and I feel free . . . like I’m flying.”

“Told you it’d be fun.” Julian smiled back at me with warm eyes.

We did another lap around the rink and then sat back down on the same wrought iron bench to put our footwear back on. Julian returned our skates and was back at my side before I pulled on my second boot.

“You up for some more?” he asked as we stood up and began walking toward the hill that would lead us out of the park.

“More of what?” I asked cautiously.

“Education, silly. Hate to break it to you, but you’re still a rookie when it comes to fun,” he said mockingly. "I, on the other hand, wrote the playbook."

“Well, actually . . . ,” I managed to get out.

“Oh, right, you live in a convent. It’s late. I better get you home,” he interrupted hurriedly before I had a chance to finish my sentence.

“No, that’s not it. I don’t live at the convent anymore,” I said, unable to control the sadness in my voice or the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Oh.” Julian’s confusion was all over his face. “Since when? Where do you live now, if not there?”

“I left two days ago, after I turned 18. It was always clear that I couldn’t be what Mother Superior wanted me to be. I’ve just been wandering around town since. Last night I sat in a pew at Our Lady of Peace for hours―well, until the sun came up,” I answered almost robotically to avoid the embarrassment that came with telling someone that you were homeless.

“Are you crazy?!” Julian practically yelled at me. “I mean, this is a pretty small town and all, but something could have happened to you. Someone could’ve hurt you!”

I could tell his concern was real―and I couldn’t argue with logic. The only thing I really couldn’t figure out was why this near-total stranger cared.

“I don’t mean to sound
ungrateful
for your sentiment, but why are you so interested in my life and what happens to me?” I asked with a boldness that surprised even me. “I mean, you barely know me at all.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Julian answered thoughtfully. “I mean . . . I just feel some strange connection to you. And now I probably sound like a crazed psycho stalker.”

We both stood there in the park in silence, Julian staring down at his feet for the first time since I’d met him.

“I feel drawn to you too.” My near whisper shattered the long silence.

“Of course you do,” Julian smirked, attempting to do away with any awkwardness that such a conversation might cause.

Then it was my turn to stare down at my feet, though it seemed much more apropos coming from me.

“So how ‘bout you just stay with me tonight?”

“Huh?” I blurted out without thinking.

“At my parents’ house,” he chuckled. “You’ll stay in the guest room, of course. Tomorrow we can talk to them about getting you set you up with a room over the café. There are a couple for rent.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly intrude on your family that way,” I protested, although my mind instantly replayed my earlier prayers to St. Rita of Cascia, the Patron Saint Against Loneliness. Perhaps she had truly heard and interceded for me.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You wouldn’t be intruding,” Julian pleaded. “And besides, where else are you gonna go? We both know I’m not going to let you walk around Beaufast alone every night.”

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind?” I asked, more and more convinced that this was the answer to my prayer.

“Positive,” he assured me as he smiled tentatively in victory. "My mother talks incessantly about me bringing home a nice girl like you."

Part of me was uncertain about a mother who would be all right with her son bringing home
any
girl for the night, and the other part was insanely curious about the kind of girls Julian had brought home in the past. All of me, however, was desperate for a place to sleep that didn’t involve a church pew or being alone.

“All right then,” I finally agreed.

We walked side by side in comfortable silence down a curved street in one of the older, more affluent neighborhoods of Beaufast, Maine. I had never been in that area of town before, but Mother Superior had often criticized the wealthy parishioners who lived there, saying that they had "abandoned their faith in favor selfish desires." The memory of her voice inside my head brought a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, so I immediately pushed the thought away and focused my attention on my unfamiliar surroundings.

There were old-fashioned lampposts illuminating rolling landscapes, resplendent gardens full of autumn blossoms, and a stately white Victorian house with a balcony that stirred my mind to thoughts of reenacting scenes from
Romeo and Juliet
with my traveling companion. Grinning to myself, I emerged from my musings to realize that we had stopped walking.

"So," Julian and I said at exactly the same time.

"Ladies first," he offered with a charming grin and a bow to match.

"Oh, um," I replied stupidly, biting my lower lip and trying desperately to clear my mind of my silly schoolgirl thoughts. "Is this . . . " I trailed off as I heard the echo of footsteps approaching.

I turned toward the sound of the advancing footfalls to see a stranger pacing under a streetlamp several feet away. His long, unkempt hair was tangled and matted, and his unruly beard and wild eyes made him appear savage. The threadbare red flannel shirt he wore was tattered and his blue jeans were full of holes, as were his leather boots.

Finally seeming to realize that Julian and I had stopped walking, the man began to utter words in a voice so low and gravelly that it was impossible to hear him from where I was standing. Without thinking, I slowly took a step toward the stranger when Julian grabbed me by the left arm.

"What are you doing?" he practically growled at me.

I looked at the shaking grip that Julian held on my arm and then up at his face in an attempt to understand why he was so angry. What I found was not anger at all. All of the color had drained from his face―he looked as if he were ready to crawl out of his own skin.

"Julian, it's all right," I explained as gently as I could without sounding condescending. "I've worked at shelters and soup kitchens my whole life. He probably just needs some money for food."

"Don't move," Julian said shakily as he released his hold on my arm and reached into his back pocket. He withdrew a leather wallet, opened the tri-fold, and removed a fifty-dollar bill before returning the wallet to his jeans pocket. Julian's brow was creased with worry and his hands were shaking violently. He tossed the money into the street in the direction of the stranger before taking hold of my arm again and hurrying me up the cobblestone walkway to his parents’ house.

His reaction to the man was beyond perplexing, and I was mildly disgusted that he'd literally just thrown money at him as though handing it to the poor soul was beneath him somehow. Just as we reached the steps, I looked back over my shoulder to find the man standing where he had been, watching me intently. He hadn't picked up the money.

"I'll be right back," I fired at Julian, pulling my arm free. I darted down the walkway and scooped up the fifty-dollar bill on my way across the street.

"ASPEN!" he yelled from behind me, but didn't follow. As I approached the vagrant, I slowed, not wanting to startle him. His expression remained unchanged as I reached my hand toward him, clearly exhibiting the bill it held. Staring right through me with glazed-over eyes, he made no attempt to accept my offering. Instead, he opened his mouth and began to speak.

"Eyes on the prize―they bring forth lies. Don't forget or you'll regret," he whispered cryptically as his glossy eyes locked on mine.

Though I had no idea what he was talking about, the intensity of the man's words paralyzed me. Retreating footsteps snapped me out of my trance-like state and back to the reality of the vagrant walking back the way he had come. I was still holding the money from Julian's wallet.

"Wait!" I called out to him. "You didn't take the money!"

The stranger just kept walking. I called out again, but he continued his journey down the street without so much as a backward glance. I silently watched him until he rounded the corner and disappeared.

What just happened?

Turning back toward the large white house, I reluctantly made my way back over to where Julian was still frozen in the same place I’d left him.

*

We walked through the enormous front door of the Casey home as if the incident with the stranger had never occurred. Julian had traded his earlier vice-like grip on my arm for a much more intimate placement on the small of my back. His expression returned to the crooked smile that had been increasingly familiar until his apparent disgust with the homeless person. As I looked up at him, I was struck by the realization that I knew practically nothing about the man standing beside me.

I wasn't aware I was staring at Julian, or that we were no longer alone, for that matter, until the sound of a man clearing his throat brought me back to reality. I reacted as though Mother Superior had caught me reading after lights-out and looked up sharply to find myself standing before two of the most beautiful people I had ever seen. The expressions they wore were a mixture of surprise and amusement.

With the exception of his amber eyes and close-cropped hair, Julian's father was an older version of his son. The baby blues were clearly a gift from Julian's mother, who had perfectly coiffed golden hair and a single strand of pearls to complement her cream-colored sweater and brown pants. His father wore a white button-down shirt and gray trousers, which he somehow managed to make look like an expensive suit.

His father approached first, leading his wife over with his left hand on her back.

"Julian, would you care to introduce us to your lovely young lady friend?" His father looked to my escort with his eyebrows raised and a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Actually, I was considering keeping her all to myself." Julian smirked mischievously at his parents and then turned the full force of that stare on me. Remembering the events of just moments before, I looked for something in the room on which to focus my attention and quickly found myself staring at my worn-out black boots.

"Mom, Dad, this is Aspen. Aspen, these are my parents, Constantine and Felice Casey," Julian announced properly, as if he had sensed my anxiety and was attempting to calm me.

"It is so lovely to meet you, Aspen," Mrs. Casey expressed with sincerity in her eyes. "We so rarely have the pleasure of meeting any of Julian's friends."

"Mother," Julian grinned at her angelically as he withdrew from my side and kissed her gently on the cheek, "don't be silly. I told you when there was someone worth meeting . . . " He left his sentence unfinished as he glanced back at me with the same smile he had given his mother.

"It's nice to meet both of you as well, Mr. and Mrs. Casey." I stammered a little, suddenly so nervous I could hardly breathe. "You have such a lovely home."

"Thank you, Aspen. Please, call us Constantine and Felice," Mr. Casey gestured to himself and his wife with an easy smile. "We were just preparing to sit down to dinner. Might you be persuaded to join us?"

I glanced over to Julian for some kind of cue as to what my response to the invitation should be. Given our newly uncomfortable circumstance due to how he’d responded to the poor man in the street, I just wasn't sure. He looked from me to his father with a dazzling smile and said, "We'd love to."

I trailed behind Julian and his parents into a large dining room with a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging over a dark-wood table with seating for ten. Constantine gracefully pulled out a chair for Felice at the same time that Julian pulled one out for me. I wondered as I took my seat next to him how someone with such impeccable manners could have behaved so poorly with that vagrant when the situation obviously required only a little humanity and compassion.