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Authors: Stephanie Lawton

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“Still not completely sure it’s ‘
okay’
.”

I pull back to look at him.

“Relax
.
I’m thinking how I want to answer this. Want to get it right.” He stares out the window to the city beyond. “I think it’s being here.
Far away from Mobile.
Didn’t realize how stifling it was until we touched down.”

“So, it’s because you can keep this a secret up here? Things will go back to the way they were when we get back?”

“Kind of. Don’t know.” He grimaces. “Listen, I left behind a disaster when I came to Boston. Then I made a mess of things here, too. Not really my fault, but still.”

He puts a finger under my chin and forces me to look at him.

“I
know
what they’ll do to you if they find out. I
know
the things they’ll say. They’ll never understand that you and I are equals, which I truly believe. They’ll see a dirty old pervert preying on his pretty seventeen-year-old student. You know how things work in Mobile. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Lord knows you’ve seen more hurt than anyone ought to.”

I can’t argue with that. He’s absolutely right. Even if he didn’t have a history, the biddies would have a field day if they found out. But
when
I come to Boston in the fall…

“Come back to Boston with me. The judges pretty much told me I was a shoo-in. You just said you feel stifled in Mobile.”

“That’s an option. Just trust
me and promise we’ll keep this between you and me
. I couldn’t stand it if they went after you.”

Before I can answer, there’s a knock at the door.

Dave.

“Oh my gosh, he said bright and early, but I didn’t think he meant dawn!” I jump off Isaac’s lap and take the blanket with me.

He sighs. “Put some clothes on. I’ll get the door.”

I grab what I can find and dash into the bathroom. I leave the door open a fraction so I can eavesdrop.

“I brought—oh, hey, Ike. I thought this was Juli’s room. Sorry.”

“It is.”

Silence.

“Dude, are those—are those
fingernail scratches
? Oh, Ike, what have you done?”

I hear Isaac’s low grumble, but I can’t make out the words. I shove my arms through my
shirt sleeves
and my shoulder protests a little. I choke down the pills I forgot to take last night and splash water on my face. Good enough.

When I step out of the bathroom, Isaac’s gone. But Dave sits at the desk, flipping through the TV channels.

“I brought donuts, kitten. Hungry?” His tone is light, but he won’t look at me.

“Dave.”

“How’d you like the flowers?”

“I…”

He finally looks at me instead of the TV. “Wow. JBF looks good on you.”

“What?”

“Look it up. Anyway, are we still on for this morning? Thought we could hit Boston Common, Newbury Street,
Little
Italy. But you’ve probably got other recreation planned, considering—”

“Dave?”

“Yep?”

“Don’t try to make me feel bad. I’m not sorry.”

“No?” He shuts off the TV and stands. “I am. Why couldn’t you wait two more months? God, I even marked it on—”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“It’s…” He sighs. “Look, I knew this would happen. Didn’t take a psychic to see it coming. Hah, I guess I’m just sorry Ike found out the answer before I did.”

“The answer?”

“Yeah. You know, does it match?”

I smile despite myself. And against my better judgment, I nod.

“Well, now that I know the answer, I’ll leave you two jailbirds, I mean love birds to your business. Call me when you have time and tell me how your audition went. Enjoy the flowers.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Juli, I can’t be here, okay? This is just…this isn’t the way it was supposed to be. Everything about it is wrong.” He runs his hand over his spiky blond hair.

“Well, I’m sorry we don’t have your blessing, Mr. Morality Police. Just because you have hang-ups doesn’t mean everyone does.”

“Hang-ups? You still think—you know, for someone so brilliant, you’re awfully stupid.”

“Get out.”

“Going.”

“Good.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

“…if we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

I sit alone in my usual spot, but the place next to me is empty. Isaac sits at the organ, and Rev. Landry sweats despite the freezing drafts that seep through the stained glass windows. His words echo in the sanctuary, just as they echo in my head. I knew this would happen, but I need to be here just the same.

“…we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves.”

Sin
. Is that what this is? What we did? Because I don’t regret it and I can’t repent if I’m not sorry. I could call it a mistake. But it’s not. I stare at Isaac’s broad back as he shuffles his music and catch a glimpse of his profile. Instantly, the fire ignites again, deep in my gut, licking its way outward.

“Therefore I declare to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins…”

I whimper, and the woman in front of me turns her head.

Surely, I’m going to hell.

***

Isaac stops over every few days to see how I’m doing, and he even plays for me. Each visit sweeps me into a high I never thought possible. His touch is intoxicating and I’m constantly amazed at the ways I affect him—one move, a small noise, and he comes undone in my arms. I’m addicted.

After the sweat dries and adrenaline fades, the tailspin and crash send me to bed with dark thoughts, thoughts about where this isn’t going and what it says about me that I’m willing to repeat the cycle again and again.

“So.”

“Yes, ma’am?” His sad eyes stare out the window.

“What’s going on here? I mean, are we…is this just…a little help here?” I scrunch my good shoulder.

He sighs. “Well, I don’t really know, Juli. Here’s the thing—I really, really care about you. You know that. And you know I want you. Lord knows, I tried not to, but there it is.”

“But?”

“But think how it looks. Your daddy wouldn’t hesitate to pull a pistol on me. And if your mama’s friends, if the Mystics found out? You’re not quite eighteen. I’m almost thirty. Now wait.” He holds up a hand when I squeak out a protest. “I know it’s legal. But you know how people talk around here and they wouldn’t let it die. You’ve had to put up with enough shit. Do you really want to bring on more?”

“So, great. I’m a friend with benefits.
Your dirty secret.
I—”

I cry, as much as my meds will let me.

“Jesus Lord, don’t do that. Don’t cry, Juli. Look, let’s lay low for a while and figure this out. It would be a bad idea to go public. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

He brushes away my tears with his thumbs. The rational side of me knows he’s right. Unfortunately, rational isn’t my strong suit. Not even meds can fix that. The rest of me just wants him—all of him—with an intensity that rivals how much I want to get into the NEC. When his lips meet mine, I’m too eager to accommodate. When we sin again, I think I could be in love with the devil.

***

Today I’ll see Mama for the first time since the attack. Both Daddy and Dr. Jordan are with me to make sure neither of us hurts the other. Or
ourselves
, I suppose.

I won’t stay long. Just long enough to tell her the audition went well and thank her for her note. Daddy tells me she’s much better, that they’ve gotten her medication where it needs to be. She’s in therapy every day, just like me, and she wants to talk. I’m nervous, but I think I can hold it together. If not, well, that’s what Dr. Jordan’s for.

The first thing I notice is how normal she looks. Her face is fuller, her hair is thicker and there aren’t any bruises or scrapes on her knuckles. When she says hello, her breath isn’t putrid. Her eyes tear up, and I look away.

“I won’t keep you,” she says. “I know you don’t want to be here.”

Her voice is softer than I remember. She looks out the window and swallows.

“I’m sorry, Julianne. I haven’t been the mother you deserve. I’m getting better and I’d like the chance to make it up to you. Or at least try. I’ll do my best to be there for you. To show you how proud I am, because I
am
.”

When her chin quivers, mine does, too.

“There’s something else I need to say.
To both of you.
I owe you an apology. These past few weeks reminded me why I married your father. I’ve said things I’m not proud of. I blamed him and his job for a lot of my own issues.”

She blamed almost everything on him. What she didn’t pin on him, she put on
me or R.J
.

“I was frustrated, but that didn’t give me the right to talk about our problems to you. You were so small and didn’t understand, and I shouldn’t have expected you to. It wasn’t right to burden you that way. I want you to know that your father and I love each other very much and we both love you. We’ve worked through a lot of things since...” She takes a deep breath. “I worry that I gave you an unhealthy view of men. I’m just so thankful you have a good relationship with R.J. I used to be jealous that you two were so close. Now I’m grateful you have each other.”

I didn’t see this coming. I mean
,
I’m glad she and Daddy are making progress, but he’s been with her so much, he hasn’t been there for me. Still, it’s kind of sweet to think of them as actually being in love. She’s right. I don’t have the greatest view of guys. Maybe I’ve been unfair to Isaac. After all, he warned me time and again that we couldn’t be together not because he didn’t care, but because of what other people would say. He’s been protecting me all along. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Dr. Jordan clears his throat. “Time’s almost up. I’ll be in the hall when you’re ready to go.” I’d forgotten he was lurking by the door. Mama manages a weak smile.

“So, Daddy said your audition went well. Could—would you tell me about it?”

I’m still processing everything she said, but I think she earned the right to hear about it.

“The judges gave me a standing ovation. Except for Sasha
Rozum
. He had his head on the table after the Rachmaninoff. It was the same piece he played during that competition I saw on TV when I was little.”

“You mean the one you cried over when it ended? I remember. You were seven and I made you hot cocoa to calm you down. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen.”

I don’t remember the cocoa.

“The next day, you told Mr. Cline you were going to learn that piece and you’d do it better. And you did. Such determination.”

I’m speechless. She’s given me more compliments in the past ten minutes than the whole rest of my life.

“Thank you, Mama.” A tear escapes.

She sniffs.

Decision time. Do I follow my head—which tells me to play it cool—or do I listen to the whisper playing at the edges of my heart? It sends a different message. I think of our last back-to-school shopping trip. At the time, it was so perfect. I’d longed to take her hand. But I was wrong.
This
is perfect. Even though we’re in a mental institution and medicated to the hilt, this is
our
perfect moment.

I’m going to do it. I am.

I reach for her hand and she lets me wrap my fingers around her cold ones. I squeeze. She squeezes back. Behind me, Daddy makes a hiccupping noise.

After a moment, I let go.

I let go.

So many words.

So many hurts.

I let go.

***

Daddy and R.J. are late. They overslept and slam around the house like madmen. I stand in the kitchen by the back door, a glittery satin costume in each hand. R.J. is first to stumble in. He grabs a bagel off the counter, pelts me with a quick kiss on the cheek, snags his costume and throws himself out the door.

Daddy’s next. He moves only slightly slower than R.J. I point to the travel mug of coffee on the counter and the protein bar next to it. He snatches them up, takes his costume from me and turns toward the door.

“You’ll be okay, right?”

“Yep. I’ll pick up Mr. Cline in an hour and then swing by Isaac’s to get Dave. See you down there.” Dave and I are on speaking terms again.

“Thanks, sweetie. Hope you have fun.”

It’s Fat Tuesday in Mobile, and the
city’s
gone wild. For the past two weeks, other Mardi
Gras
societies have paraded and partied, but today is all about the Mystics of Dardenne. As the oldest and most distinguished group, we go last. We are the main attraction. The city holds its breath for two weeks, waiting to finally see our over-the-top floats and costumed marshals plumed like iridescent monsters atop unearthly horses. All the other parades and balls are just opening acts to our grand finale.

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