Sinful Purity (Sinful Series)

by K. A. Standen

  As always, Caleb was right. His family was very welcoming. His father looked just like Caleb, only older and less decorated. He didn’t have blue hair or facial piercings, but he did have the same nose, jaw line, and crystal blue eyes. I imagined them having the same smile too. However, neither one of them even cracked a grin in each other’s presence. The tension between father and son was a recurring theme with the Prices. Caleb’s father and grandfather didn’t appear to get along any better. His mother was warm and friendly, albeit a little loopy. His grandmother was elegant and refined. Amazingly enough, she was really nice to me, almost approvingly nice. I don’t know if it was because she knew of my history with St. Matthew’s and the orphanage, or if there was something in my demeanor that reminded her of her beloved husband. Either way, Mrs. Eloise Price was a remarkably kind and respectable woman. I liked her very much.

  Just as Caleb promised, Monsignor Brennigan was the guest of honor. He was very happy and jovial. His recent tribute had considerably lifted his spirits. I thought maybe it would be a good time to try to talk to him. However, being the guest of honor, his attention was in high demand. Caleb, who had been following me everywhere, trying to make me feel at ease, discovered my plan. He casually walked me over to where Monsignor Brennigan was hobnobbing with two other prestigious guests.

  Caleb artfully interrupted the conversation to introduce me. “Monsignor, I believe you know Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, of course. It has been too long. Is the young Mr. Price your beau, dear?” Monsignor inquired.

  I knew what he was doing. He was casually but methodically trying to seek out whom it was who’d compromised my virtue. I didn’t mind his curiosity, only the false pretenses.

  “No, sir,” Caleb interjected with his usual charm and good humor. Only I knew he was taunting the beast. “Elizabeth and I are classmates at St. Paul’s. She is dating my roommate, though.”

  “He is a lucky man, if I don’t say so myself, young lady,” commented one of the distinguished gentlemen who had been conversing with Monsignor Brennigan before we barged in.

  “Thank you, sir.” I nodded respectfully.

  “Tell me—Elizabeth, was it? How do you know Monsignor Brennigan?” asked the gentleman.

  “I was raised at Mary Immaculate Queen, next door to St. Matthew’s, sir.” I answered, although inside I hated every word I spoke.

  “Yes, Congressman Reynolds. In fact, St. Matthew’s gave Elizabeth a full scholarship to study at St. Paul’s,” Caleb divulged masterfully.

  I knew Caleb was trying to insure that word of monsignor’s generosity would spread, thus assuring my scholarship would stay intact. To our benefit, the gentleman who was so curious about me was our very own Congressman Reynolds, whose office was only blocks from St. Paul’s. Luck was in our favor today. Or it could have been Caleb’s miraculous planning. Either way, I owed him even more now.

  “That’s marvelous, Monsignor. You really should have told someone. You could have been a cardinal by now.” The congressman laughed and slapped Monsignor on the back.

  “Excuse me, Mary Elizabeth,” Monsignor said. “I must get back to the party. We will talk soon.” He turned back to his guests.

  I couldn’t tell if the comment about talking soon was a promise or a threat. I smiled kindly as Caleb and I retreated to the seclusion of the house. My nerves were beyond frayed and my stomach was in knots.

  “Oh my God, Caleb. I can’t believe you just did that,” I blurted as I punched him in the shoulder as hard as I could. He didn’t even wince.

  “Liz, it worked out perfectly. He had to acknowledge you, just like I predicted. Plus, it was very advantageous that Congressman Reynolds was there. Not only is he fond of the ladies, which is why he was so attentive, but he also has the biggest mouth of any of the guests. By the time the party is over, every person here will know of your scholarship from St. Matthew’s. So as long as your grades remain stellar, of which I have no doubt, then your education is as good as paid for. Brennigan will never risk bad press like that. He’s too career-minded, if you get my drift.”

  “I do. Thank you, Caleb.” I was so grateful. His meticulous planning had hit its mark again.

  Caleb and I hung out at the party for about another two hours and had some food. Well, that was an understatement. The catering was divine. I had never cared much for rich food before, but this was heavenly. Caleb gave me a tour of the house. He said it was the short tour, but it still took forty-five minutes. Then we sat and talked for a while. It was odd to see Caleb in his own environment. He was always very well spoken and well mannered. However, here in the regality of his palatial manor, you never even noticed his unorthodox appearance. He was truly a gentleman in every way.

  Caleb drove me back to my dorm. I had been gone all day. When I got inside my room, I flopped down on my bed and just lay there thinking. Spending the day with Caleb had really elevated my mood. I was very thankful for that. At the same time, I feared that I depended on him far too much. On the ride home he’d told me that he was going out of town with his family for a few days. The news was desperately depressing. I would be truly all alone until he returned on Saturday. I had no idea what I would do with my time. I knew me and I knew I would spend as much time reading as possible. However, my meager stack of books would last three days, tops. That meant that by Thursday I would need to make a trip to the library. I thought about the library and all the rows of beautiful books. That would be a fun trip. I could also try giving Kelly a call. She was always so difficult to get a hold of, but when I did, it was totally worth it.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about my day with Caleb, his family, and their palace. I thought of all the new things I’d seen and people I’d met. I wondered what Caleb meant about the congressman being fond of the ladies. I thought I could probably guess. My mind drifted to Zack and how much I missed him. I thought of Kelly and Brett and how long it had been since I had seen them. Then my mind flashed on Monsignor Brennigan and his words: “We will have to talk soon.” A shudder went through my body. I tried to force myself to think of happy thoughts, to think of Zack. As I dozed off to sleep, the thought of Brennigan still clung to the edges of my mind, waiting to leap out at any moment.

  I woke with a fright a couple of hours later. I was drenched with sweat and dried tears that made my cheeks feel stiff and dry. I tried to remember what I was afraid of. I knew I’d had a nightmare, but about what exactly escaped my consciousness. The images were still there but they were jumbled. A hooded figured loomed. I thought I remembered Zack and Caleb being there. And Sister Christine? That seemed odd. But I was sure it was her. And chandeliers. I remembered chandeliers everywhere. I laughed to myself. My subconscious was definitely purging excess thoughts. “Chandeliers.” I laughed again as I rolled over to go back to sleep.

  When I woke Monday morning, I was still extremely tired. I had not slept well at all. Even after going back to sleep, my slumber was fitful at best. I thought I would try it again. I fell back to sleep for about another hour, but that was all my mind was willing to accept. I would be forced to spend the day in an exhausted body and with an overactive mind. It felt awful. Then I thought of Sister Christine. I wondered if that was how she felt, like her body needed rest but her mind was unrelenting. I spent the rest of the day curled up on my bed with one of my beloved books. Knowing that I did not have to be at St. Matthew’s until right before four in the afternoon, I relished my time with my paperback friends.

  When I arrived at St. Matthew’s my hope was high, as was my anxiety. After speaking with Monsignor Brennigan at the Prices’ party, I hoped he would be more open and accepting of me. Deep down, I still suspected that his sociability was merely proper etiquette and not the beginning of his forgiveness and understanding. Still, a part of me, naïve in spirit, held out hope that his friendliness was genuine.

  I immediately began my work, first organizing and filing sacramental requests and certificates. After the filing and office work ha
d been completed, I made my way to monsignor’s office. It was one of my weekly duties to clean and organize his office. While Monsignor Brennigan had a brilliant mind and a passionately devout soul, neatness was not one of his virtues. So it was that after a life of strict cleanliness and prohibited attachment to material possessions, I could help him in this area.

  When I entered Monsignor’s office, I found him rifling through a chaotic pile of random papers. He looked up at me without any recognition and then immediately returned to his rummaging.

  “May I help you find something, Monsignor?” I asked nervously, feeling that my heart might break if he shunned me again.

  My worst fears were soon realized. He looked up at me and then turned and grabbed his hat from the modest wooden coat rack standing in the corner. He began to walk toward me but then halted. I was standing in the doorway, blocking his retreat. With a sudden rush of confidence and power, I asked again.

  “Is there something I can help you find?” My voice was stronger more assertive this time. I felt my heart pound in my chest as if trying to warn me. I did not listen. I was going to make him acknowledge me. I was still Mary Elizabeth. I was still a good girl and he had to see that.

  Monsignor Brennigan looked me straight in the eye with the most intense stare. “No. Now please step aside, you are making me late.”

  “Father—uh, Monsignor—if you just tell me what it is that you are looking for, I will find it for you while you’re out.” I could hear the pleading in my voice and hated it instantly.

  “I am looking for remorse, Mary Elizabeth. You will not find that here,” he scolded.

  I stepped aside, letting the disapproving priest pass. I knew we were no longer talking about misplaced papers. Tears welled in my eyes. How I wished Zack were here. He always had a way of making me feel better, less wicked. I proceeded with my work as quickly as I could. Every second I spent in Brennigan’s office was like an eternity in my own personal hell.

  By eight o’clock my tasks were complete. I headed back to St. Paul’s, hoping that the cafeteria was still open. I was starving. Being winter break, the campus was practically vacant except for the odd straggler like me. It was late, and darkness had engulfed the campus. The only brief and fleeting light shone from random streetlights too far apart to really be effective. I hurried through the dark, fearful of the shadows. My nightmare from the night before was not doing my psyche any good. I was beginning to see malevolent hooded figures and evil faces lurking in every shadow I passed.

  Get a hold of yourself, Liz!

  I had been by myself for less than three days and I was already cracking up. When I arrived at the cafeteria, the small older lady who ran the place was just locking the doors. She was very short, maybe four-foot-ten at most. Her posture was hunched over from years of hard work and manual labor.

  “Please wait,” I begged.

  “Honey, I’m closing up. It’s nearly nine, only two minutes ’til. We close at nine,” she informed in her weak and raspy voice.

  “Please, ma’am. Can I just get something to go? I’ll take anything. I’m really very hungry.”

  “All right, dearie. You do look famished.” She gave in with a kind, albeit toothless smile.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.” I followed her into the dining hall. Hurrying along, following so close behind, and practically begging, I must have looked like a stray puppy wagging my invisible tail for table scraps.

  She told me her name was Mildred. I thanked her for her kindness repeatedly as she packed up enough leftovers to last me two days. Mildred handed me my care package and sent me on my way.

  “Now hurry along, dearie,” she urged. “Back to your room.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you again, Mildred,” I said with a big smile and nod.

  “Okay, go now. It’s very late and the campus isn’t kind after dark. You go right home, now.” I could hear the worry in Mildred’s voice. Images from my nightmare flooded my head. The feeling of being watched and distorted pictures of the hooded figures sent a shiver right through me.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” I muttered. I forced the images from my mind. I tried to think of other things. I focused on Mildred. I imagined that was what a real mother must sound like when she showed worry and concern for her child. My mind wandered off, wondering if she had any children. What they might look like. I bet Mildred was a good, hardworking mother who always made sure her children were taken care of.

  It only took me ten minutes to reach my dorm room. I think I must have nearly run the whole way from the cafeteria. When I stuck the key in the lock and opened the door, I saw the familiar red light blinking on the phone. I hurriedly shut the door and locked it. Kicking off my shoes and setting the bag of food on my desk, I grabbed the phone. I entered the code for my voicemail and I heard his voice.

  “Hey, Liz. I’m sorry I missed you.” Zack’s voice rushed through me like a hot poker stabbed into the depths of my soul. “I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. I love you, honey. And I miss you very much. I hope you’re missing me too, but not too much. I wish I could be there with you. Anyway, I’m going to be gone with my family tomorrow, so I’ll try to call you again after Christmas. Love you, bye.”

  Oh, how I missed him. I was so bummed that I’d missed his call. The only upside was that since it was saved in my voicemail, I could play it over and over again. I did just that. I must have played his message thirty times while I sat and ate. After I finished eating, I put the leftovers in the little dorm fridge Caleb had lent me. I flopped down on the bed, full from dinner and content from hearing the sound of Zack’s voice. I grabbed my dogeared copy of Dante’s Inferno, but a couple of pages in I realized that reading of devils, demons, and hell might not be the best choice. I was alone and last night’s nightmare was still as fresh in my head as Mildred’s words, “the campus isn’t kind after dark.” What kind of creepy warning was that, anyway? With my contentment fading I reached for my old friends, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. Within minutes I was immersed in the society of Regency England. Hours flew by and I finally dozed off sometime around two in the morning.

  When I awoke Christmas morning, I felt calm and rested. Christmas felt like any other day to me. Growing up at the orphanage, Christmastime meant extra Masses and the lighting of Advent candles and nothing more. We did not receive presents, nor were we told fanciful tales of Santa Claus. The birth of Christ was paramount, with the sisters making Christmas a spiritual time, not a consumer-driven obsession. Except for the pretty silver bracelet Zack had given me before he left, I had never received a Christmas present.

  The one good thing about it being Christmas was that I did not have to work at MIQ today. I had the whole day to vegetate with my beloved books and delicious leftovers, thanks to Mildred. I tried calling Kelly, but she was out. I left one of my many messages. It seemed that Kelly’s new life kept her very busy, more so than mine.

  By Wednesday morning I had pretty much exhausted my reading material and my leftovers. I declared that it was time to reenter the world. First I would journey off to the cafeteria and then make a trip to the library. As I exited the door of St. Augustine, a blast of cold air whipped me in the face. The campus was completely white with snow. Every bush, tree, and walkway was buried in the frothy white goodness of winter. I had been so enthralled by my reading yesterday that I hadn’t even noticed it had begun to snow—and snow and snow and snow, apparently. I walked swiftly, bundled snugly in my coat with my hands firmly tucked in the pockets. I could hear and feel the fresh snow crunch beneath my feet. Each step I took I heard crunch, crunch. “Boy, I’m loud,” I chuckled to myself.

  When I reached the cafeteria, Mildred was already inside, with the breakfast made and the coffee percolating. I had never liked coffee much, but this morning it actually smelled good. I still wasn’t going to drink any, though. I knew regardless of its aroma, it was still going to taste like dirt. I grabbed some eggs, toast, and a glass of orange juice and went to
my usual table in the corner. I could have sat anywhere. I didn’t need to hide myself in the corner. In fact, I was the only one other than Mildred in the whole place. I finished breakfast and cleared my tray.

  Off to the library, I reminded myself. St. Paul’s library was all the way on the other side of campus. It would be at least a twenty-minute walk in this freezing cold. I flipped up the collar of my coat and pulled down my stocking cap, bracing myself for the hostile arctic chill. I pushed open the dining hall doors and rushed into the cold, the momentum forcing me to trudge on. Within a few minutes I acclimated to the cold and began to slow my pace, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the frozen day.

  It wasn’t long before uneasiness swept over me again. Just like the past few nights, I could have sworn someone was watching me, following me. But every time I turned around, there was nothing except the occasional black shadow hugging the corner of a building. The sun’s reflection off the bright snow had all but eradicated any hiding places. Only a few determined shadows still clung to life in this blindingly white winter wonderland.

  Pull yourself together!

  I could never have survived being a prisoner in solitary confinement. I mean, if less than a week of moderate isolation was making me this certifiable, I couldn’t imagine what I’d be like if I were really trapped all alone. I shuddered at the thought.

  I finally reached the library, just in time. There was no fighting off the deranged thoughts in my head anymore. Hooded figures plagued my consciousness. I burst through the doors of the library with the greatest force I could muster. I knew that within these walls, sanity awaited me.

  St. Paul’s library was mammoth. It was one of the newest buildings on campus and very modern. All the books were meticulously organized and cataloged. It was like my own personal haven. I threw myself into my search, perusing every aisle. I examined every book, looking for potential new friends and seeking wide-reaching adventure. Normally I would have enjoyed myself very much. However, I couldn’t shake that troubled feeling that someone was watching me. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and my palms grew moist. As I reached the end of each aisle, I thrust my body around, compelling myself to look. There was never anything there. After several repeat performances and continuously chastising myself for the lunacy that was apparently genetic in my family, I was beginning to accept my insanity. Then, in the last aisle of the classic fiction section, I glimpsed an edge of a robe protruding from the endcap of the aisle. Frozen with fear, I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe.