Sympathy gleamed wet in her eyes. “Not after graduation, Steven,” she whispered, “the summer of sophomore year, after we broke up and I lived with my godmother in California.”
He blinked, remembering the awful breakup they’d had, the hateful words that had been spoken, and Maggie running away to attend school at UCLA. It had been the rawest pain he’d ever experienced, living without her, purging his system of her smiles, her love, the meaning she’d brought to his life. He felt the keen betrayal of her departure even now, and how it had pushed him into the arms of Erica, seeking solace that never came. And then Maggie had returned with a vengeance the summer of junior year and they picked up where they’d left off . . . until it finally ended before Thanksgiving senior year in an argument over his father.
“I don’t understand . . . ,” he said faintly, barely spoken aloud. “W-what are you saying?”
She took his hand once again, and he let her, too numb to move. “I’m saying I went to California because I was pregnant, Steven, not because I was running away from you.” Her head bowed, and when she continued, her voice seemed far away, like a distant memory neither wanted to remember. “Mama forced me to stay with my godmother because Daddy was a pastor, and she didn’t want anyone to know.” A shiver traveled from her body to his. Instinctively, he pulled her close, staring straight ahead as their unsteady breathing fogged both the windows and his mind. “Mama begged me to give her up, so I did.”
His leaden lids shuddered closed as his heart wrenched in his chest. God forgive me, I have a daughter. “Do you . . . ,” a painful mix of shame and hurt convulsed in his throat, cracking his voice, “know anything about her?” he whispered, terrified to know, but more so not to.
“Yes,” she said, a thread of pride in a tone laden with tears. “She’s very happy with her new family, they tell me, a beautiful child with a bright future . . .” Her voice broke, shredding him inside. “And I miss her so very much . . .”
A heave swelled in his chest and he held Maggie tightly, tears pricking his eyes as sorrow pricked his heart. “Forgive me, Maggie, for putting you through this. I never meant—” a shudder wracked his body as he fought for control of his emotions—“to hurt you . . . to cause you and . . . our child . . . so much pain.” He closed his eyes and tears welled, unbidden and unwanted, like the grief in his mind. Blatant sin, wrapping its tentacles around Maggie, around him, and now their daughter, bleeding into their lives with toxic guilt and shame. He laid his head against hers, voice splintered. Not unlike his soul. “I would do anything, Maggie—anything to make up for my sin, to change the path we took, to make it right.” Silent sobs convulsed in his throat as he squeezed her so tightly, their grief became one. “And God help me, I would do anything to hold my daughter in my arms just once.”
Her body shivered before she silently pulled away, the effect of their sin evident in the sheen of tears on her face. “You can,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with his. His heart stopped when she stroked a quivering hand against the bristle of his jaw. “It’s Glory.”
16
So, what do you think?” Maggie stood on a small carpeted platform in front of the three-way mirror at Filene’s, an angel in a full-length ivory bridal gown shimmering with seed pearls. It hugged her body before spilling to the floor in a cascade of satin and lace, and she glanced over her shoulder at Annie and Aunt Eleanor with a tug of her lip. “Do you like it?”
No. Annie deflected the sharp stab in her chest with a bright smile, strolling around the platform to study the lay of the dress. “It’s beautiful, Mags, just like you.” She turned, ignoring the strained smile on her aunt’s face. “Don’t you think so, Aunt Eleanor?”
“Absolutely,” Eleanor said. She rose from the chair and circled as well, arms crossed over her herringbone suit. “I do believe that dress was made for you, Maggie.”
“I think so too,” Maggie said softly, her gaze back on the dress as she smoothed her hands down its sleek lines. Her eyes met Annie’s in the mirror. They dimmed enough for Annie to notice before she spun around and clapped her hands with a bright smile. “Well, that’s that, then—it’s lunchtime! If you would be a doll and unzip me, Suz . . . oops, I mean ‘Annie.’ ” She sighed and unbuttoned the lace cuffs of the dress. “I suppose I’ll get used to your new name eventually, but I tend to be slow in accepting change.”
Me too, Annie thought with a silent sigh as she unzipped Maggie’s dress, well aware this was one time she couldn’t afford to be slow in accepting change. In one month, Maggie would become Steven’s wife, a week before Christmas, and there was nothing Annie could do. Steven had made his decision that fateful night two weeks ago, and he’d chosen her sister. A choice that was—despite the agony that seared Annie’s soul—one of the very reasons she loved him so—as Glory’s father, it was the right thing to do.
Glory’s father. Just the sound of those words paralyzed her heart to a comatose state that dulled her mind, but not the pain. Never once had she suspected the foster child her parents “adopted” was not her sister. No, with her older sister a coast away, Annie had been so thrilled to have a sister again, it hadn’t even entered her brain that Glory might belong to Maggie.
And to Steven . . .
Never had her faith carried her more than now, when Annie’s only choice was between anger and bitterness . . . or laying it down and letting God heal her heart. And although there’d been moments when she’d wanted to rail and scream, almost wishing Maggie had never been born, Annie had chosen to forgive . . .
But it wasn’t easy.
“We’ll wait outside while you get dressed,” Aunt Eleanor said, ushering Annie out the door. Closing it behind them, Aunt Eleanor nodded at several salesladies while she hooked an arm to her niece’s waist. She led her to a chaise against the wall and settled beside her, smoothing a stray curl away from Annie’s face. “How are you doing?” she whispered, taking Annie’s hand in hers.
Annie leaned her head against the wall, smile fading a tad as she released a tenuous sigh. “Okay, I guess, but I won’t lie to you, Aunt Eleanor—it’s hard.”
“I don’t doubt that, darling,” Aunt Eleanor said with a pat of Annie’s hand. “It’s hard for all of us, I’m afraid, and we’re not doing it with a broken heart.” Her sigh was as wispy as Annie’s. “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you, Susannah?”
Annie’s lips tipped. “All the time,” she said with a squeeze of her aunt’s hand. “I honestly don’t know how I’d do this if it wasn’t for you and Faith.” Tears pricked. “And God.”
Aunt Eleanor nodded, her own eyes glossy. “ ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,’ ” she said softly, trailing into a faraway stare. She sighed again and pressed a kiss to Annie’s cheek. “Never have I believed that more than now, Annie, because of you.” She cupped her niece’s face. “I’m convinced that your pure heart in the face of this hurt will allow you to see God move in your life beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed.” She paused, her smile tender. “I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, Susannah.” Her pearl choker shifted on her throat. “The example you’ve set . . . an example that has set me free from the pain of my past.” Tears welled in her aunt’s eyes. “And my future.”
“Your future?” Annie said, her head in a curious tilt. “What do you mean, Aunt Eleanor?”
Aunt Eleanor smiled, a beautiful smile brimming with tears of love and hope and peace. “There’s someone from my past who I desperately needed to forgive, Annie, but I just couldn’t . . . not until you showed me how . . . and why.”
Annie’s heart sped up. “Mr. Callahan?”
A chuckle broke on a heave as Aunt Eleanor nodded, the motion sending a tear trailing.
“Oh, Aunt Eleanor!” Annie swallowed her up in a joyous squeeze. “Nothing could’ve lifted my spirits right now more than this!” She pulled back, hands still braced to her aunt’s arms while she studied her, gaze tentative. “Does . . . Mr.
Callahan know?”
Biting a thumbnail, Aunt Eleanor shook her head with a tremulous smile, looking so much like a little girl that Annie laughed. “Well then, are you going to tell him?”
A white glove trembled to her aunt’s lips while she gave a jerky nod, more tears welling.
Annie gave her a tight hug. “Oh, Aunt Eleanor, I’m so happy for you.” She pulled back with a husky chuckle. “But not as happy as Mr. Callahan will be, I suspect.”
With a tearful press of Annie’s hand, Aunt Eleanor rose to her feet, cheeks blooming a beautiful shade of pink as she fished her handkerchief from her purse and patted her eyes. She quickly glanced at her watch. “Goodness,” she said, tugging on the jacket of her suit, “I almost forgot I have something to order before we scoot off to lunch, so I’m going to take advantage. How about I meet you and Maggie at the car in ten minutes? Frailey will be out front.”
“Sounds good,” Annie called with a smile, watching Aunt Eleanor scurry away. Thank you, Lord, and please bless her more than she ever dreamed possible. Exhaling, she folded her arms and slumped to the wall, reflecting on Aunt Eleanor’s words. Blessed are the pure of heart. A plaintive sigh drifted from her lips. Oh, Lord, let it be . . .
A night that should have been one of the happiest of her life—Steven’s return and Maggie’s homecoming—had shattered her heart instead, and Annie wasn’t sure if she would ever be the same again. Her guilt and shame over getting involved with Steven without telling Maggie had prompted her to push the two of them together. To clear the air, she had said, and put the past behind. Only the “past” was here to stay in the sweet presence of a golden-haired child whom Annie loved as a sister. And in the space of an hour, Annie had lost everything she held dear—the man she loved, the sister she idolized, and the little sister she cherished.
With every tick of the clock that night, her heart had grown heavier as she lay in Aunt Eleanor’s bed next to Glory, waiting for Maggie, and when the clock finally struck twelve, she knew she was doomed, like Cinderella at the ball. Her fairy-tale romance with Steven had turned into ashes when her sister stole away the handsome prince they both loved.
“Ready?”
She jolted, blinking up at Maggie at the stroke of her sister’s hand to her cheek. “Goodness, Suz—you were somewhere far, far away.”
“Naw, just a catnap.” Annie jumped up to take Maggie by the arm. “Aunt Eleanor had a quick errand to run, so she said she’d meet us at the car. Are you ready?”
“Actually . . . no,” Maggie said, brows tented in apology. “The saleswoman brought in the most incredible dress just as I was leaving, and I was wondering if you’d tell me what you think. It should only take a few minutes . . .”
Annie managed a smile. “Sure, lead away.” Swallowing a silent groan, she followed Maggie into the dressing room and closed the door. “Oh my, this is gorgeous,” she whispered, eyes drawn to a creamy, champagne satin gown hanging on a hook, its elegant scoop neck encrusted with pearls. Small silk-covered buttons edged Renaissance-style sleeves that gave it a fairy-tale air Annie loved. She smiled at her sister. “Oh, Maggie, it’s straight out of Cinderella!”
“It is, isn’t it?” Maggie said with a glow in her cheeks. “It looks like something a princess would wear to wed her Prince Charming.”
Or mine. The bitter thought rose from nowhere, and Annie turned to slip the dress off the hanger and over Maggie’s head. God, forgive me, and help me to be happy for my sister. Focusing on fastening the buttons, Annie quickly retreated to a chair by the wall when she was done, blinking often to free her eyes from impending tears. She folded her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. “I think that may be the one, Mags.”
“Me too,” Maggie said quietly, her eyes fixed on the mirror. She paused, head bowed and a slight wobble in the creamy line of her throat. “Like Steven,” she said. “He’s been the one from the first moment I ever saw him, Annie.” She pivoted slowly, meeting Annie’s gaze. And like a reflection in a mirror, Annie saw the same remorse, guilt, and sadness in her sister’s face that she felt in hers. The satin neckline of the gown shimmered when a wavering sigh drifted from Maggie’s lips. “I never meant to hurt you, Annie, any more than you meant to hurt me, but the truth is, one of the reasons I came back was to see if Steven still cared.”
She removed her veil and stepped down from the platform, sitting in the chair by her sister. Staring straight ahead, her eyes were naked with pain and her voice as unsteady as the veil that trembled in her hands. “When Gregory broke the engagement, I . . . w-wanted to die because it was just another confirmation I . . . w-wasn’t worthy of love.”
“Maggie, that’s not true.”
She looked up, moisture glazing her eyes. “Maybe not, Suz, but that’s how I feel. Rejection everywhere I turn, never good enough for Hollywood or Gregory or Steven.” A harsh laugh tripped from her lips. “And let’s not forget about Daddy—”
“Daddy loved you,” Annie said quickly.
Maggie squeezed Annie’s hand, her smile laced with sadness. “It’s not your fault, Suz, that Daddy approved of you and not me. You were the good girl, after all, the daughter who made him proud.”
“He was proud of you too!” Annie cried, her heart aching for her sister.
Maggie shook her head, sorrow coating her cheeks. “How could he be? I wasn’t even proud of myself . . .” Her eyes trailed off into a glassy stare as her voice droned on, threaded with pain. “When Gregory left, my world fell apart, and suddenly nothing mattered more than seeing Glory and you. Gregory’s rejection made me realize how selfish I’d been in what I’d done—allowing Mother to pass Glory off as a foster child whom she and Daddy brought into their home. And for the first time, I felt this driving need to make amends to my little girl, to be a mother to my baby . . . if only . . .” Her hand trembled to her mouth while tears welled in her eyes. “If only I could give her the type of home she deserved.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed and moments passed before they opened again, chin elevated as if to give her the strength to go on. “So in the midst of my rejection and hurt, I made up my mind to finally do the right thing, and I purposed to see Steven when I got home. At least when he rejected me, it was because of his allegiance to his father and not because he didn’t care.” Her smile was wistful. “And if there’s one thing I knew for certain, Annie, it was that Steven O’Connor was an honorable man who would do the right thing.”
Yes, I know, Annie thought with a twist of her heart.
She took Annie’s hand in hers, a wet plea in her eyes. “Oh, Suz, please don’t hate me,” she whispered, “I couldn’t live with myself if you did.”
Annie embraced her, eyelids tightly shut. “I could never hate you, Mags—I love you.”
Maggie pulled back, a weepy grin in place as she swiped at her cheeks. “And I love you.” She stroked Annie’s face, trepidation in her gaze. “You . . . weren’t lying the night I told you about Glory and Steven, were you? When you said you two were just dating and nothing more?”
Annie shook her head, wondering if the absence of words could be considered a lie.
A smile wobbled on Maggie’s lips, and the sun broke through the clouds in her eyes. “I’m glad,” she breathed, clasping Annie’s hand. The smile dimmed somewhat as she chewed at the edge of her lip. “And you’re . . . not angry with Steven, I hope . . . because I love you both, Annie, and it would tear my heart apart if you two didn’t get along.”
“No,” Annie whispered, grateful she could speak the truth out loud. “Not even a little.”
Relief eased the tension from her sister’s face as Maggie crushed her in a tight hug. “Oh, thank God.” She pulled back, her gaze glimmering with hope that caused an ache in Annie’s throat. “Promise me, Suz, that you and Steven will be friends who love each other like family.”
“I promise,” Annie whispered. She wrapped her sister in a fierce hug, staring over her shoulder as tears pricked her eyes. Friends? Maybe. Family? W
ithout question. Love? Annie swallowed the grief in her throat.
Consider it done.
“Good grief, O’Connor, I’ve seen happier mugs on a wanted poster.” Joe tossed his keys on his desk and plopped in his chair with a look as sour as his mood the last two weeks, a record for the man with a perennial smile. “Why are you doing this?”
Steven glanced up from the report on his desk with a heavy inhale, bracing himself for another barrage of Joe’s well-meaning probes. He managed a patient smile. “Because I want to, Joe. How many times do we have to go over this?”
“Till I’m convinced I don’t have to report to Hatch that my partner’s lost his mind. And for your information, ‘because I want to’ is not an intelligent answer. Speaks on the North End ‘want to’ sell booze too, but that ain’t gonna happen either.”
Huffing out a sigh, Steven tossed his pencil on the desk and sagged back in his chair, kneading the bridge of his nose. “Come on, Walsh, you’re just going to have to bite the bullet and accept the fact your best friend’s getting married.”
“Yeah, well, I would if I thought it was really what you wanted, but you were in the middle of falling in love with one sister, and now you’re marrying the other?” He scowled, snatching a pencil. “This whole fiasco is a bolt out of the blue, biting us both in the keister.”
Steven chuckled with a fold of his arms, affection warming his gaze for a friend who was more like a brother who had seen him through thick and thin. “You act like you’re the one losing your freedom. Trust me, you’re my best friend—we’ll still hang out together, and nothing will ever change that. Besides, Maggie was never the possessive type, you know that.”
Joe’s legs plopped on the desk with a grunt. “Yeah? Well, you just didn’t know it because your head was so far in the clouds, you never noticed.” He put the pencil through abuse, absently bending it back and forth. “Do you even love her?” he snapped, searing Steven with a look so out of character, it could have been Hatch dressing him down.