Broken Promises
Page 2
“A little suspicious of our motives, being so willing to take care of the kids?”
Nodding, Mary replied, “We didn’t... couldn’t tell them what we suspected, but they might not see it that way.”
He took her hand in his once again. “I’m sorry, Mary,” he said. “I know how much you love them. If Katie and Clifford feel threatened and keep the kids away from you, it’s because of me. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Mary shrugged. “Of course you didn’t. And besides, it wasn’t just your decision to keep it from them. We all decided it would be best. Let’s not think about the negative side right now. Let’s just hope they understand the predicament we were in and why we did what we did.”
“What we need is a diplomat who can convince them that our decision was the best for all concerned,” Bradley said. “And that we really had no choice.”
They both looked at each other and smiled. “Ian.”
Chapter Two
Stanley twirled Rosie around one last time as the final chords of the song faded away. She laughed with delight as he bent her over into a not-so-deep dip and gave her a quick kiss.
“Oh, Stanley, you are such a wonderful dancer,” Rosie gushed, waving her hand in front of her face to cool herself from the exertion. “Wherever did you learn those moves?”
Smiling, Stanley shrugged his shoulders modestly. “Well, I ain’t saying I’m good and I ain’t saying I’m not. But I will say it makes all the difference iffen you got a good partner and I can tell you, I was dancing with the best.”
“Oh, Stanley,” Rosie said, a soft blush stealing across her cheeks, “You say the nicest things.”
Stanley put his arm around her shoulders and started to lead her off the dance floor when he saw Mary and Bradley sitting at the table in the far corner of the reception hall.
“Why ain’t Mary dancing?” he wondered aloud. “Seems to me that girl needs a little more fun in her life.”
“Well, it looks like they might be discussing something serious,” Rosie said.
“Those two are always being serious,” Stanley scoffed. “‘Bout time he did something romantical. Come on Rosie, someone’s got to talk some sense into that young man.”
He guided Rosie across the room and stopped in front of Mary and Bradley’s table.
“So, girlie, why ain’t you out there cutting up a rug?” Stanley asked Mary, and then he shot Bradley an annoyed look. “Ain’t no one got the manners to ask you?”
Mary placed her hand over her mouth, trying to hide the smile, and shook her head. “We’ve been talking...” she began.
“You get the chance to hold a pretty girl in your arms and all you want to do is talk to her?” Stanley asked Bradley. “In my day, real men didn’t pass on an opportunity like that.”
The soft strains of a love song began to play and couples, young and old, began to drift out into the dance floor. Bradley stood up. “Excuse us, please,” Bradley said. “I’ve got a pretty girl I need to hold in my arms.”
He turned to Mary. “Mary, may I have to pleasure of this dance?”
She smiled up at him and nodded. “I would be delighted.”
He led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. She laid her cheek against his shoulder as they swayed gently to the slow song. She inhaled his unique masculine scent and, as always, it caused her insides to begin a slow meltdown.
She wondered what it was about his cologne that caused her reaction. She inhaled the scent again and felt the tingle deep inside. She was sure there were pheromones mixed in with the woodsy scent and... something else. She cuddled closer, burying her nose next to his chest and sniffed again. Was it citrus or ...? She inhaled deeply. Yes, citrus, definitely... grapefruit...that was it! And... something... She sniffed once again. Maybe ginger... She started to breathe in again...
“Um, Mary, what are you doing?” Bradley asked.
How embarrassing, she thought.
“Sniffing you,” she said, biting her lower lip and lifting her head to meet his eyes.
“Sniffing me?”
She nodded.
“I showered, I promise.”
She chortled. “I know. You just smell so... good.”
“Good?”
She shrugged slightly. “Your scent causes a meltdown reaction in my body, like there are pheromones in your cologne."
“Meltdown, huh?” he asked, inhaling deeply as a self-satisfied, manly grin spread across his face, “So, have you ever had this reaction with any other man?”
Lowering her face slightly, she smiled. “No,” she replied, snuggling back into his arms. “You are the only one whose scent makes me slightly crazy.”
He bent down and brushed a kiss along the side of her neck that caused her to shiver. “Good, keep it that way,” he whispered.
She sighed softly and reached up, pressing her lips against his neck. “I intend to.”
He slid his hand up her back slowly and then threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling back slightly, so he had access to her mouth. “Mary,” he said, his voice husky, as he searched her face for a moment and then lowered his face towards hers.
“Mary!” Linda called brightly, as she hurried towards them with Bob in tow. “We’re going to be leaving in a few minutes and I just couldn’t go without talking to you.”
Bradley glanced at Mary, a wry smile on his face, and then loosened his hold on her.
Mary looked over. “Linda, you look so beautiful. Obviously being married agrees with you.”
“Well, so far,” Linda laughed.
Turning to grin at Bob, Mary chuckled. “Well, that’s a good sign. You’ve been married for about an hour and she still loves you.”
He put his arm around Linda’s waist and pulled her close. “And I intend to keep her in love with me.”
Bradley extended his hand to Bob and the two men shook hands. “Congratulations Bob. I know you are both going to be happy,” Bradley said.
“Well, thanks to you and Mary for bringing us together,” he replied. “And thanks to Mary’s fast reaction during the wedding. You saved my life.”
“I had some help,” she said, thinking of Ernie, the ghost of Linda’s father. “Besides, I’m sure that’s one of the responsibilities of being a maid of honor, protecting the married couple from any crazed infiltrators.”
“Well, if it’s not, it should be,” Bob said, leaning forward and kissing Mary’s cheek. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us.”
“Really, Bob, it was nothing,” she said.
“No, Mary, it was everything,” he said sincerely.
Throwing her arms around Mary, Linda hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Mary,” she whispered. “You gave my true love back to me twice. I can never repay you.”
“Just be happy,” Mary said.
“Thank you,” Linda said, wiping away a tear.
“Come on, sweetheart, we’ve got a plane to catch,” Bob said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close for a quick kiss. “Besides, these two want to dance.”
Linda smiled and nodded. “I’ll call you when I get back,” she called, as Bob led her across the dance floor.
“Perfect,” Mary said.
Bradley drew her back into his arms as another slow song began to play. “The always amazing Mary O’Reilly,” he said.
She looked up at him. “Shut up and kiss me,” she replied.
His eyebrows shot up a little and a slow smile spread across his face. “It will be my pleasure.”
Chapter Three
“Well, and how was the wedding?” Ian asked politely, barely looking up from the computer, as Mary and Bradley walked through the door to Mary’s home.
“It was lovely,” Mary answered.
“Good, good,” Ian replied, his interest in the webpage obvious.
“Action packed,” Bradley added.
“Action packed?” Ian repeated, not really aware of the words. “Well, isn’t that nice.”
Ian lifted his head from the screen. “Do you mind repeating what you just said?”
Mary grinned at Bradley and then walked past Ian to the kitchen and began to fill the teapot with water.
“Bradley would you like some tea?” she asked.
Bradley pulled out his smartphone and began tapping on the face. “Don’t mind if I do, thank you Mary,” he said.
“Oh, no, you kinna be thinking you’ll walk in here and drop a bombshell as that was and not explain yourselves away,” Ian demanded.
Mary looked over at him. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked sweetly.
“Aye, I’ll be begging your pardon for not paying attention the first time,” he said. “Now, what’s this about you going a few rounds at the wedding? Was it during the reception?”
Mary put the teapot on the stove and hurried over to sit next to him on the couch. “Do you remember Ernie, the ghost that appeared during our bedroom snowball fight?”
Bradley looked up from his phone. “Excuse me? Bedroom snowball fight?”
Mary glanced over at Bradley, “Oh that, it was nothing. Really. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Ian chortled. “Aye, and I want to be around for the telling.”
Bradley stared at Ian. “Oh, you will be, believe me.”
Rolling her eyes, Mary turned back to Ian. “So Ernie taught me how to box because he said it was important, something he needed me to do for a loved one. But, he said he couldn’t tell me the reason.”
“Okay, so Ernie taught you how to box,” Ian said. “But you didna know why.”
“Right,” Mary replied. “And then, today, I was standing at the front of the church and the minister was about to start the ceremony, when Linda’s stepfather walked in through a back door and pointed a gun at Bob, the groom.”
“So, the stepfather didna want Linda to marry Bob?”
“No, the stepfather didn’t want Linda to get married at all, because she was his meal ticket,” she replied.
“So, the stepfather is ready to shoot Bob, and Mary drops her bouquet on the ground, punches him in the stomach and follows up with a jab in the side,” Bradley said. “He drops his gun and it skids across the floor. Then Mary dances around him like a prizefighter...”
Mary brought her arms up in a fighting stance and shadow boxed for a moment. “Fly like an eagle and punch like a...,” she paused, thinking for a moment and then, smiling, added, “Punch like a bee.”
Ian and Bradley grinned. “Or something like that,” Ian said.
“So Mary basically takes him out in a matter of moments, knocked cold, on the floor,” Bradley said, “So fast no one else had time to help her.”
“In a dress and heels,” Mary added with a wink.
“Well, now, that was truly amazing,” Ian said. “And will you be giving up your day job to start a career in the ring?”
“No way! Boxing hurts,” she admitted, shaking her hands for emphasis. “Besides, all kidding aside, I couldn’t have done it without Linda’s father.”
“Oh, Linda’s father was there too, was he?” Ian asked.
“Yes, he was the one who encouraged me to fight,” Mary explained impatiently. “He used to be a boxer.”
“Well, then, why didn’t he fight the bloke?”
“Because he was a ghost,” Mary said with an exasperated sigh.
Ian smiled. “Aye, only in the world of Mary O’Reilly does a dead man attend his daughter’s wedding.”
Mary shook her head. “No, only in the world of Mary O’Reilly do you know about it,” she said. “I’m sure there are many fathers who, although they can’t be there in body, are there in spirit.”
Nodding, Ian said, “You have the right of it, Mary.”
“So, after Ernie kissed Linda...”
“Why did Ernie kiss Linda?”
“Because Ernie is Linda’s father,” Mary said, rolling her eyes once again. “Pay attention Ian. So, after Ernie kissed Linda, he said good-bye to me and faded away.”
“Well, that was quite a fairy tale wedding,” Ian said, with a smile. “So, tell me, was the rest of the day uneventful?”
There was a moment of silence in the room as Bradley met Mary’s eyes and sighed. “Well, I suppose there was another significant event,” he admitted. “Mary learned that Maggie is not my daughter.”
Ian’s face sobered. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “Mary, what did you discover?”
“Maggie and I were at a table and she told me that she missed Mike, and I...,” Mary’s voice cracked and she took a deep breath, as her eyes filled with tears.
She tried to speak but couldn’t at first. Finally she wiped her eyes and whispered. “And I told her I missed him too.”
“Aye, we all miss him,” Ian said sympathetically.
Mary nodded and continued, her voice a little stronger. “I explained to her that he wanted to say good-bye to her, but everything happened so quickly, he couldn’t. Then she told me the same thing had happened with the sad lady, Jeannine. She had asked Maggie to say good-bye to Clarissa for her because she had to leave.”
“Who is Clarissa?” Ian asked.
“Well, it seems that Clarissa is my daughter,” Bradley replied.
Chapter Four
Clarissa Madison sat on the cold wood floor, her feet tucked inside her flannel nightgown for warmth. She blew on the window and watched a small patch of frost melt away. The blurry neon lights from the bar across the street were now clear and she could watch the comings and goings on the sidewalk. She scooted up on her knees, her elbows resting on the scarred wooden windowsill, and looked intently down at the patrons. Would she be able to tell from this far away? she wondered.
A man and woman walked from the alley towards the front door. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders and he was whispering into her ear. She laughed loudly and threw her head back and Clarissa studied her face. Bright red rouge defined her sharp cheekbones and dark cobalt eye shadow accentuated the thick black liner coating the lids of her eyes. Her lips glowed with crimson and her big teeth gleamed with a yellow hue.
Clarissa shook her head. No, she couldn’t be one. She just couldn’t.
Standing, she hurried across the room to the little desk in the corner and pulled the oversized library book from her backpack. It was too dark in her room to read the title. She knew she couldn’t turn on her light, because she didn’t want to disturb her mother, who slept on the small couch in the living room, just outside of her room.
She walked back to the window and angled the book, so the flashing neon sign threw beams of red, orange and green across its cover. A Book of Angels. Clarissa compared the title to the bar sign across the street. “Angel’s Bar” flickered in all the colors of a neon rainbow. Next to the name was a fluorescent image of a scantily clad woman with wings that, through the magic of animated neon lighting, lifted up to expose more of her bikini clad body and then dropped down to present a more modest image.
She knew her daddy was an angel now, but she didn’t think he looked anything like the girl on the sign. She was sure her daddy would always look like he did when he came home from work every day, smelling of wood and the peppermint gum he always had in his car. She paused for a moment; did angels get to wear work boots? If so, she knew he would be in those scarred brown leather boots.
She still couldn’t believe he was dead. They had a funeral; she saw his body lying in the coffin. But he didn’t really look like her daddy. It was like her real daddy got pulled out of his body and just left the shell, like the caterpillar’s cocoon in Mrs. Leverton’s class two years ago. The cocoon was empty and there was a beautiful butterfly in the cage.
She sighed softly. Instead of butterfly wings, her mommy told her that daddy had angel wings now. She closed her eyes and pictured her big, tall daddy with wh
ite wings and giggled softly. He might look pretty silly, but he would look better than any of the people coming in or out of the building she was watching.
Clarissa smiled and hugged the book to her chest. “There’s angels ‘cross the street, Daddy,” she whispered. “Just like you used to say. Angels to watch over mommy and me.”
She looked down on the bar and shook her head. “‘Cept I can’t tell which ones are the angels,” she admitted softly.
She blew on the window again and the patch of clear glass appeared again. Propping her head against the thin glass pane, she studied each patron, hoping to find a celestial being among them. When she heard the coughing begin in the next room, she tightened her arms around the book and closed her eyes.
“Please God and Daddy, if you’re listening,” she whispered, “help Mommy feel better. Please help us go back to Freeport. Please make the bad man go away. Please make us not so scared. Amen.”
But the coughing continued. She heard her mother cross the living room and slowly walk down the hall to the bathroom. When the bathroom door closed, Clarissa jumped up and hurried to the bedroom door. She opened it a crack and listened. When the muted coughing was interrupted by heaving and vomiting, Clarissa’s stomach tightened. She remembered when she had the flu and she threw up in the toilet. She remembered it hurt her throat, but after it happened she felt a little better. But her mother threw up every night and she didn’t think it made her feel better at all.
She heard the toilet flush and the water run in the sink. In a moment her mother would be returning to bed. She knew she should close her door and get back in bed, but she wanted to see her mother, to make sure she was fine. She pushed the door, so it was nearly closed and watched her mother slowly walk back up the hall, her hand against the wall for support. Pausing to take a shaky breath, her mother looked as if she was going to collapse before her. Clarissa knew she needed to help her.
Slowly opening her door, Clarissa stepped out, yawned widely and rubbed her hands over her eyes.
“Clarissa,” her mother said weakly. “Why aren’t you asleep?”