Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  Not that she wouldn’t find out anyway, of course. Sooner or later, everybody’s secrets were laid bare. And now, on top of that, she’d have his family to deal with, alone, while he worked his butt off to solve this case.

  He thought back to the night before, about the reproach and suspicion he had seen gleaming in his mother’s eyes. And his uncle’s. Even his aunt’s, although she was generally much more adept at hiding it than the other two. He’d seen that look, and he knew damn well what it meant. How are you messing up now, boy? What are you going to do next to shame us?

  Yeah, it was pretty obvious his family would do everything they could to make the next two weeks as difficult as possible. Not that he’d been expecting anything else. But wouldn’t it have been a nice surprise, if they’d at least made some effort to get along with her?

  Anger flared as he thought about it. Was it too much to ask, that they try and get to know her? To know the woman she had become now, rather than staying stuck in the past, nursing the same old hurts and grudges they’d held for twenty years? Although, he had to admit that he really was in no position to cast blame. Not when he’d maligned and mistrusted her almost as badly as the rest.

  If only there was some way he could make them understand what he’d always known to be true. That he and Scout were somehow fated to be together, that they completed each other in ways no one else ever could. If only he could make them realize – but he didn’t see that happening anytime soon. And they didn’t even know the whole of the matter yet.

  So fine, they wanted to be upset? He’d give them something to be upset about. They could stay ticked off at him the whole next two weeks if they wanted. Just so long as they left Scout alone.

  How am I messing up now? Gee, Ma, just wait and see.

  “No!... I told you I’m not... you’ll have to ask... but isn’t there... what time did you... going to be late!”

  The words that had infiltrated his dreams rang faintly in the morning air. Confused and indistinct, they drifted up from somewhere downstairs, and now he realized he’d been hearing them for some time. It was the sound of voices, his mother’s and Kate’s, raised in an aggravated discussion of something in which he had absolutely no interest. He felt Scout stir beside him. No! Not yet. He groaned in protest.

  “Good morning,” she said, smiling sleepily, her arm stealing around his neck. She pulled him down to kiss her, her lips were warm and sweet and inviting. He felt any concern he might have had about whatever was going on downstairs melt away in the heated rush of his arousal. But before he could take it any further, she pulled away, just a little.

  “Wait,” she whispered, pushing the hair from her face and turning to peer curiously at the clock beside the bed “What time is – oh, no! Nick, you shouldn’t have let me sleep so long. Your mother is going to kill me. I promised I’d take her to church this morning.”

  Nick groaned again, this time in disbelief. “Church? You gotta be kidding. Forget about that, Scout. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. It really doesn’t matter. Anyway, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve been and all, but I’m sure I don’t remember it being as much fun as this.” He pulled her back against him, his lips caressing her throat as his hands moved hard over her body.

  “Mmm … and I’m sure you’re right about that,” she murmured between kisses, “But... really... it does matter. Oh, God. I want her to like me, Nick. I... I... mmm!... no, wait. I want to do everything I can to— Nick! Stop that... to get along with her.”

  “Impossible,” he answered impatiently, pulling away so he could look her in the eyes. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? Nobody gets along with her.” He reached for her again, but she held him off.

  “Nick, how can you say something like that?” she demanded. “She’s your mother!”

  “Yeah. Don’t remind me.”

  “Nick!”

  “Okay, okay, I’m only kidding.” He sighed as he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, so that she sprawled on top of him, his hands roaming over her once more. “But ... are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”

  “Yes, damn it, I’m fine. Jeez, I wish everyone would stop ask—” She froze suddenly, her eyes grew wide as the voices from downstairs once again penetrated through the closed bedroom door. “Oh, no. Is that—?”

  “Yep. ‘Fraid so.” He yawned and stretched and reluctantly let her go.

  “Damn,” she breathed as she bounded out of bed stark naked and began rummaging in her closet looking for something suitable for Sunday Mass.

  Or maybe just something she could still fit into, he thought, suppressing a guilty grin. He rolled onto his side, and watched her with interest. “Need help?” he asked at last.

  “Can’t you think of something better to do than just lie there?”

  He sure could. “What did you have in mind?”

  Like... oh, I don’t know... go downstairs and tell her I’ll be right there, maybe?”

  He sighed. “I was afraid you’d say something like that.”

  Giving into the inevitable, he heaved himself out of bed and snagged the shorts he’d left on the floor the previous night. He put them on and then, grabbing her as she went past on the way to her dresser, held her close for a long moment. Stroking her soft skin, inhaling the scent of her hair, loving everything about her.

  “Just calm down,” he said, soothingly. “Don’t let her get you upset. Everything will work out fine.”

  “Do you really think so?” Scout asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He merely smiled, shook his head, and kissed her. “Go on and get dressed,” he said quietly as he left the room. “Take your time and stop worrying. I’ll get her calmed down.”

  As he headed down the hall, he considered her question. Did he really think everything would work out? No, of course not. Not the way she probably meant it. There would be fighting and hurt feelings. People would say and do things in the heat of the moment that would seem unforgivable for a long while afterwards. Just like always. But... try as he might, he just couldn’t seem to work up any serious angst about it this morning. He was going to marry her in two weeks. Finally. And there was nothing that anyone could say or do to stop him. Not anymore.

  Buoyed by the knowledge, and feeling suddenly as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Nick actually found himself whistling as he went down the stairs to confront his mother.

  * * *

  “What kept you?” Lucy whispered as Scout slid into the pew beside her. “I thought for sure you were going to be late.” Lucy had moved over so that her aunt and her mother could sit together. Now she and Scout and Kate occupied the half of the pew that faced the main aisle.

  “I overslept,” she whispered back. “And then I had trouble finding a place to park. This place is mobbed. What are they giving away?”

  “Funny,” Lucy answered. “Here, you want a missal?”

  Scout looked at the book she was offering her, “Unless it comes with instructions, I don’t think it’s gonna help me all that much.”

  “Hell, Scout, you can still read, can’t you?”

  Lucy’s voice had risen, and beyond her friend Scout could see the two older Greco women cast frowning glances in their direction, as they held their own whispered conversation. Well, great, Scout thought. It hadn’t taken them any time at all to screw things up.

  “Read? This morning? Very doubtful,” she mumbled, but she took the book anyway and made a pretense of leafing through it. This place was giving her the creeps.

  It had been years since she had been here, but everything was just as she remembered it. Even the way she felt – which was about twelve years old. The golden oak pews and confessionals were still redolent of lemon oil, and there was still enough marble, in the form of pillars and panels, two elaborately carved baptismal fonts, and the altar itself to lower the interior temperature to something close to sub-arctic. The cold smell of ashes, bee’s wax and long-exti
nguished frankincense and myrrh were all too drearily reminiscent of funerals to be cheered by even the bright splashes of color reflected through the stained glass.

  Especially when the splashes were predominantly red. Glowing against the oatmeal colored travertine of the floor, they recalled a little too forcefully all her memories of blood soaked sand. She shivered and shifted her attention to the trio of musicians warming up in the chancel. A guitar, a flute and a harp should make for an interesting program, she thought.

  “How come Nick didn’t get you up earlier?” Lucy whispered again. “Didn’t he realize being late would make his mom pissed?”

  “I think Nick had other things on his mind this morning,” Scout replied dryly, grinning just a little as she thought about it.

  Lucy snickered quietly. “Yeah? So did Dan. I bet you made out better’n we did, though.”

  Scout sighed and shook her head. “Oh, I’m sure we didn’t. Like I told you I—” She broke off when she realized that something toward the back of the church had caught Lucy’s eye.

  “Oh, shit,” Lucy muttered under her breath. “I don’t believe this.” Following the direction of Lucy’s gaze, Scout turned around and saw Marsha approaching them.

  “What’s the matter?” Scout demanded in a whisper. “It’s just Marsha.”

  “Well, I can see that,” Lucy whispered back, “But what the hell is she doing here?”

  Where’s the problem? Scout wondered as Marsha caught sight of them and smiled wryly. She looked happier and more relaxed than she had in a very long time,

  “Well... we’re here, aren’t we?” Scout shrugged. Marsha certainly looked normal enough. In fact, she was maybe looking a little better than normal. Usually, she wore her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, or a single thick braid. This morning, only two strands of hair had been braided, and swept back from her temples to meet at the back of her head, while the rest of her hair cascaded over her shoulders in lovely, auburn waves. She was wearing a simple navy blue scoop neck top over a long skirt of iridescent bronze velvet, with a brightly patterned blue-green and purple fringed silk scarf draped over her neck.

  “Scout, has it somehow slipped your mind that this is a Catholic Church?” Lucy hissed in her ear. “Everyone around here pretty much considers me a Catholic—most of the time, anyway. And they don’t know enough about you yet, to have formed an opinion. But Marsha? Think about it. Those aren’t rosaries, or Sacred Heart statues we’re selling down at the shop, you know. Her being here is not going to sit well with a lot of people.”

  “And whose side are you on?” Scout responded angrily, as Marsha slipped past Kate and knelt beside her; a damn sight better imitation-Catholic than she was, Scout couldn’t help but think. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t stick up for your best friend?”

  Lucy broke off glaring at Marsha long enough to shoot an amused, disbelieving look at Scout. “What are you, nuts? You think she needs my help? Girl, you really have been away too long!”

  Lucy leaned across Scout to address Marsha. “Hey, Cailleach, what gives? Slow day on the battlefields?”

  “Good morning, Lucy. Scout,” Marsha answered, smiling pleasantly. Her voice and expression were suspiciously bland, Scout couldn’t help but notice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce. You know I still come to Mass here. Occasionally.”

  “Yeah. That’s just what I’m afraid of,” Lucy answered dryly. “So, what’s the occasion this time? You’re not gonna make a scene in front of my mother, are you?”

  Marsha’s eyes twinkled. “Relax. No scene, I promise. I just thought I’d run a little interference for Scout. Give the people something else to focus on, that’s all.”

  “We’ll see,” Lucy muttered as they stood for the processional.

  Scout listened to the music rising from the group in the front of the church. She didn’t recognize the hymn, and neither did most of rest of the congregation, if all the sudden fumbling about with the missals was any indication. Lucy, she noticed, didn’t even bother trying. But as the procession made its way up the aisle Scout felt her friend stiffen.

  Lucy gasped in outrage as she leaned across Scout to poke Marsha’s arm. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

  “I did not,” Marsha mouthed back, clearly biting back a laugh.

  “You had to,” Lucy insisted, but Marsha just shook her head. “You’re saying it’s just coincidence then?”

  Marsha’s smile was beatific. “Well, you’re the one who specified the 10:15 Mass, Lucy. You tell me.”

  “Yeah, good idea,” Scout growled in exasperation. “And while you’re at it, how about one of you telling me what’s going on now?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really. We all have our little crosses to bear,” Marsha whispered. “I just happen to be one of Bob’s, that’s all.”

  “Bob? Who’s Bob?”

  Marsha nodded toward the altar. “Father Bob.”

  “Father Jelaski,” Lucy corrected.

  Scout frowned. “Bob Jelaski? Why does that name sound familiar?”

  Marsha giggled. “Well, you remember Bob, don’t you Scout? He was almost engaged to my sister Siobhan?”

  What? Scout barely managed to cover her shock with a fit of coughing. “I – that is – he’s a priest now? No way!”

  “Truly, the Lord moves in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform,” Marsha intoned solemnly. “Or, if you prefer, there’s always psalm 118 verse 22. The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”

  “Bob’s a priest. And you’re quoting from the Bible.” Scout felt dazed. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  “You see what I mean?” Lucy demanded. “This is exactly what she does. Comes in here and starts showing everybody up. Like she’s a one-woman traveling salvation show. Talk about crosses to bear? Scout, you have no idea what I’ve had to put up with over the years.”

  “You know Lucy,” Marsha murmured, as she settled her scarf, shawl-like, to cover her shoulders. “Sexual frustration is really not a good look for you.”

  Scout snorted quietly.

  Lucy bristled with affront, “Oh really? Well, and I guess you’d know all about that, Marsha, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, but I handle it so much more gracefully,” Marsha returned.

  Lucy snorted. “Huh. I guess enough practice will do that for you. Won’t it?”

  “If you two are gonna continue with this conversation, switch seats with me,” Scout ordered Marsha. “Some of us are trying to make a good impression here.”

  Well, thought Scout, as she resettled herself next to Kate, isn’t this fun? She glanced across at the girl, who was watching with a bemused expression as Marsha and Lucy continued to trade barbs. If this was Marsha’s idea of running interference, Scout wasn’t sure she approved. But she thought, as she assumed an expression of respectful attention and pretended to focus on the mass, at least she was looking damn good by comparison. And that’s what counted. Because right now, appearances were all that mattered.

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  * * * *

  The sun had barely risen when the doorbell rang on Sunday morning. Joey Greco opened his front door to find his father waiting impatiently on the doorstep. “Hi, Dad. What’re you doing out so early? I didn’t expect to see you ‘til later.”

  “Ah, you know your mother,” Joe senior shrugged. “If I hadn’t left the house this early, she’d have found something for me to do by now. Besides, I wanted to talk to you before your sister’s party.”

  Talk? Joey could just imagine what that was about, and it was nothing he wanted to handle on an empty stomach. “Okay, well, come on in,” he said as he headed for the kitchen. “You want some coffee? Or Breakfast?”

  “Sure. Whatever you’re having.” Getting straight to the point, he said, “We were expecting to see you at your cousin’s last night. Where were you?”

  Joey concentrated on keeping his hand ste
ady as he poured coffee into two cups. “I know Janice called Lucy to explain why we couldn’t make it. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “Never mind what your sister told us,” Joe said as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “I want to hear it from you.”

  “No, actually, Dad, I don’t really think you do.” Joey handed his father one of the cups and began rummaging for food in the refrigerator. “Face it. We didn’t see eye to eye on this subject twenty years ago, and nothing’s changed since then.”

  “Twenty years.” Joe sipped gingerly at the hot liquid and shook his head. “It doesn’t seem possible it could be that long.”

  “A lot of things don’t seem possible when it comes to this mess,” Joey sighed, laying bacon on the skillet. “The fact that it’s still going on is only one of them.”

  “Well, I know how you feel about this, son. But all the same, to stay away from your cousin’s house when—”

  “His house?” Joey turned on his father. “What are you talking about? Nick doesn’t have a house.”

  “That’s what’s bothering you? That it’s her house they’re living in?”

  “In her house. Off her money. Yeah, I suppose that’s a part of it.”

  His father frowned. “Aww, no. Joey, come on, you can’t think he’s marrying her for her money?”

  Joey cracked eggs into a bowl before he answered. “I wish he were.” He was unable to keep the bitterness he felt from creeping into his voice. “Believe me, Dad, I’d love to think his plan was to take her for every penny she has and then dump her ass.”

  “And wouldn’t that be nice behavior,” his father said coldly. “I certainly hope that’s not what he’s thinking. First he takes advantage of her when she’s just a kid, and then when she’s older, he takes her to the cleaners? I would have thought we’ve raised both of you better than to even think of something like that.”