Sinful Purity (Sinful Series)

by K. A. Standen

  Zack was distant and aloof all week. He barely kissed me and he shied away from any physical contact. If he was trying out chastity, it wasn’t becoming on him. He continued to insist that I sleep in my own bed, alone. It was odd and out of character. I had never seen him like this. I thought maybe the news of the baby had freaked him out and sent him reeling. Then again, maybe he regretted ever being with me. I really didn’t know, and he wasn’t telling me.

  By the time Friday rolled around, five days after our meeting with Monsignor Brennigan and the baby bomb, I was more than expecting another brushoff. To my surprise, my Zack had resurfaced. It was really him, warm, kind, loving, funny Zack. Not the alien abductee Zack who’d left me hanging in my time of personal crisis. That Zack had disappeared back to where he’d come from, hopefully never to return again.

  “Hey, Liz. Can we talk?” Zack’s request sounded heartfelt.

  “You can walk me back to my dorm.”

  “I’m really sorry about the way I’ve been acting. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I wasn’t myself.” I thought I saw a tear well up in this eye.

  “It’s okay,” I assured, rubbing his cheek with my hand.

  “No, Liz, it’s not. I shouldn’t have behaved that way, not with you.” He hugged me tighter and then ran his hand over my still-flat stomach.

  “Come with me to Maine over spring break. I want you to meet my family.” His smile lit up his face.

  His family? I was shocked. Zack never mentioned his family much. I think he felt underprivileged next to Caleb. Maybe it was that his mother’s passing had left such a void, visiting or thinking of home and family were painful. Regardless of the reason, I knew that this offer was significant.

  Zack walked me up to my room, where we spent the rest of the day, evening, and night alone together. My blissful comfort slowly returned. Though there was still a part of me that feared Zack’s emotional departure would return without warning, leaving me helpless to stop it.

  Vast Wilderness

  The flight from Chicago O’Hare to Portland, Maine, took six hours and eight minutes. By the time we had to change planes in New York, this was by far already the longest and most exotic trip I had ever taken, even considering that we never left the La Guardia terminal during our layover. For the first leg of our journey, I was so nervous that I was practically sick with fear. Zack thought I was afraid of flying. The truth was, I was petrified of meeting his dad and three brothers. The flying part was actually exhilarating. There was also the small matter of my leaving Chicago without telling Monsignor Brennigan or Mother Superior. This trip would definitely have been prohibited. I couldn’t risk them forbidding me to go. This was too important. Caleb said he would take care of the excuses, devise a plan to explain why I was missing Mass and my daily duties all week. While I trusted Caleb implicitly, I still worried that this task was beyond even his stellar organizational capabilities.

  After Zack’s and my plane took off from New York, starting the second leg of our trip, I finally relinquished control and worry to fate. The whole outcome was really out of my hands now. I mean, I couldn’t go back, nor would I want to. Nervous or not, I would be in Maine with Zack and his family for one entire week. I gave in and began to enjoy my possibly one and only vacation.

  Zack gave me the window seat—that is, after I convinced him I wasn’t afraid of flying. The views of mountains jutting through the clouds, and the ocean as the plane coursed near the Atlantic, were breathtaking. The experience was truly awe-inspiring, leaving me speechless when Zack asked my opinion.

  Zack and I sat hand in hand nearly the whole trip. Occasionally I rested my head on his shoulder and momentarily drifted off to sleep. I had been so tired lately. I felt like every day I had to drag myself out of bed. I knew it was probably due to my current predicament. Zack and I hadn’t really discussed the whole baby thing, at least not in the last couple of days since he’d asked me to come to Maine for spring break. I didn’t even know if his family knew or not. All I knew was what he’d admitted to Monsignor Brennigan, that he had told his family about me. That was before the news of my pregnancy. I had no idea what had been said since. It was hard enough flying states away to meet my boyfriend’s family without them knowing I was knocked up.

  “Liz? You okay, sweetheart?” Zack asked, noticing my deep-in-thought stare. He squeezed my hand and caressed my cheek.

  “Did you tell them?” I asked nervously, hoping that his path of thought was similar to mine. I desperately didn’t want to clarify, not with a plane full of strangers.

  “No,” he answered immediately. I knew that, like me, his thoughts were endlessly lost in our now-complicated future.

  Zack saw the concern on my face. He leaned over and lovingly kissed my cheek. “I did tell them I was bringing home the love of my life to meet them,” he added with a smile.

  “You did?”

  Zack leaned over and kissed me again. “It’s true. I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

  Within minutes the plane landed. The airport in Portland was a ninety-minute drive from the small town of Bethel, Maine, where Zack’s family lived. I really had no idea how we were supposed to get there. But Zack took care of all the arrangements. As we exited the plane and made our way through the tiny airport to the baggage claim, my question was answered. There, waving and screaming Zack’s name, was a younger boy who looked almost identical to Zack. He wasn’t quite as tall or filled out, but the likeness was unmistakable. His hair was longer and wavier than Zack’s shortly cropped spikes, but the dark brown, almost iron color was apparent.

  “Hey, Nathan!” Zack called.

  Nathan rushed over and gave Zack one of those sideways man hug/slap-on-the-back combinations. Then he stopped and looked at me, unsure how to proceed.

  “Nate, this is Liz, my girlfriend,” Zack said.

  “Hi, Liz,” Nathan immediately responded as he overenthusiastically gave me a big hug. “Welcome to Maine.” He gave me a big smile, full of childlike energy.

  “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” I said, still less than sure-footed from the greeting.

  “Liz, this is my brother Nathan. He just turned sixteen. He’s a junior at the high school,” Zack briefed me.

  “Do you run track like your brother, Nathan?” I inquired earnestly, not just trying to make conversation.

  “No, Nate here is a star hockey player,” Zack bragged, putting his younger brother in a playful headlock.

  “Wow, I’m impressed. I’ve never met a multitalented family,” I joked.

  “Wait ’til you meet the rest of us,” Nate warned, giving Zack a playful shoulder-check back.

  We walked to the parking lot. I was taken aback at how cold Maine’s weather was, even when it was supposed to be spring. A few rows in was a big black dually truck even larger than Zack’s back at school. The dually had more than a few dents and scratches. You could tell it had been a hardworking and loyal work truck.

  “All right, Nate. Let me have the keys.” Zack held out his hand.

  “Hey, no need. I’ve got my license now,” retorted Nathan.

  “Look, little bro, there is no way I’m going to let you kill my girlfriend. At least not before she meets the rest of the family.” Zack laughed, throwing his head back and dazzling me again with his exaggeratedly good looks. I felt so unbelievably lucky.

  Nathan begrudgingly handed over the keys, a little embarrassed.

  “Zack, let him drive. We’ll be fine,” I scolded.

  Nathan gave me a big smile and I gave him a little knowing wink back.

  “All right, Nate. But only because Liz likes danger,” Zack teased, tossing the keys back to his brother.

  On the drive back to Bethel, I sat in the middle between Nathan the driver and Zack the reluctant passenger. They chatted and teased each other the whole way. I was an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire more than a couple of times as they whacked each other back and forth. I didn’t mind. I really enjoyed watching Zack and h
is brother interact. Zack was lighthearted, playful, and easy-going. He was the Zack I loved and rarely saw back in Chicago unless we were alone. I could tell that being back at home made him happy and comfortable.

  The small town of Bethel, Maine, was picturesque, like something out of a turn-of-the-century postcard. Nestled in a protective mountain valley and on the lush and fertile banks of the Androscoggin River, Bethel was truly a piece of Eden. From the drive in, I gathered that farming, forestry, and logging were the main industries in Bethel. The short drive down Main Street was what really captivated me. Not even in my dreams could I have envisioned a quainter and more welcoming town. All the townies waved as the familiar black dually drove through town. Mothers with children strolled in and out of the little stores, doing their daily errands. Senior citizens sat in the warmth of the corner café as they drank coffee and conversed about the weather. A snugly dressed mailman wheeled his mailbag down the street. The whole scene was like a wintry Norman Rockwell painting, and I was instantaneously enamored.

  Right outside of town we turned down a long tree-lined gravel driveway. At first it was hard to tell if it was a street or a drive because of its length. Then the snaking roadway opened up to a grassy clearing that was still recovering from the frost and surrounded by deep green forest on all sides. There in the clearing sat an old weathered farmhouse. Its white paint was chipping and the harsh elements had taken their toll, but the character and charm of the mature building was still evident.

  “We’re here,” Nathan announced as we drove up to the house.

  I looked lovingly at Zack. “It’s beautiful.” I could picture him running in and out of the house as child.

  Zack grabbed our bags out of the back of truck while I followed Nathan up the walk to the front porch. Within seconds Zack caught up and hurried in front of us.

  “Your palace awaits.” He bowed and opened the door.

  “Hey, thanks,” Nathan said sarcastically, barging through the door.

  Seeing the look on Zack’s face, I couldn’t help but laugh. Nathan and Zack had so much the same sense of humor. I couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the family was like.

  “Where’s everyone else?” I asked as I went inside and stood next to where Zack set down the bags.

  “They’re probably working up at the mill,” Zack explained.

  “From sun up to sun down,” Nathan added. “I got the day off to pick you guys up. Dad couldn’t believe you were visiting twice in just a couple of months. He thought there must be something up, especially with you bringing your girlfriend. Is there something up?” Nathan asked, desperate to be the first to know.

  “Sorry, Nate. Nothing’s up,” Zack replied casually, laying a reassuring hand on my lower back and leading me farther into the house.

  My heart had frozen waiting for Zack to answer. I anxiously hoped that our secret was still our secret. I was uneasy enough about meeting Zack’s family without that looming over my head. As soon as Zack spoke, I breathed again. My heart resumed its purpose as I comprehended that Zack had not told his family anything more than that he loved me.

  Zack showed me up to his room. “We’ll be staying here.”

  “Together?” I asked nervously.

  “Yes. Is that okay?” Zack asked with a “this is ridiculous” type of tone.

  “Well, I just thought with your family…”

  “Liz, they’re a house full of guys. They’re not going to care. Things are very informal here. Relax.”

  “I just want to make a good impression. I don’t want your dad and brothers to think I’m easy.”

  “Believe me, they know all about you. And they don’t think that.” Zack’s demeanor exuded confidence.

  “What do you mean, they know all about me?” I became frantic as memories of my childhood rushed up to greet me. I feared that my peaceful vacation escape was going to be ruined by my hideous, inescapable past.

  “I just mean that I talked about you a lot over winter break. That’s all. Don’t worry so much.” Zack stepped forward and wrapped me in his arms, holding me tightly against his chest.

  “Did you tell them about my childhood?” I asked, my voice muffled by his chest.

  “I did, Liz. But only because that’s part of what makes you, you. And I love you.”

  I thought I would have been angry or embarrassed that Zack had divulged the secret of my upbringing so easily, especially after I fought for so long to keep it hidden. But after my initial panic subsided, I realized I didn’t mind. Zack’s explanation made sense. It was true, honest, and what he believed. I liked myself so much more when I saw myself through his eyes.

  I unpacked for now, although I still wasn’t sure about the sleeping arrangements. Zack promised that if I felt uncomfortable he’d sleep downstairs on the couch, but he wouldn’t like it. After settling in, I took a tour of the house. Zack and Nathan were off getting firewood from the shed. I just walked around the house, envisioning what Zack’s life growing up there must have been like.

  Zack’s description was spot on: it was a house full of guys. Every nook and cranny of the large dilapidated farmhouse screamed it. Underneath the dirt, grime, and clutter, you could still detect the love and care of a woman’s touch, although it was practically lost now. The once–pale yellow, lace-trimmed kitchen curtains were now a dingy, stained and spotted tan. The once-vibrant floral tapestry couch now appeared more like a murky swamp than a spring garden. Especially heart-wrenching was the antique oak kitchen table. Once the hub of family life now, it was abandoned, destined to become a workbench for broken tools and household projects. The farmhouse’s homey feeling had been lost long ago, returning now to its functional roots as simply a shelter. It felt like Zack’s family merely resided there now, that living had ceased several years ago. As I walked around I could see the reminders of Zack’s mother everywhere, untouched over time. The day-to-day duties just seemed to have overtaken the memories. The house seemed sad to me. For the first time, I understood why Zack rarely talked about home or his family. This was what he saw, what he remembered. Everything about the house screamed loss; every dirt-incrusted memento was evidence of the family’s fight for survival.

  The sorrow of the house was stifling. It overtook me so quickly that by the time Zack and Nathan returned with the firewood, I was fighting back the urge to cry.

  “You okay?” Zack asked, noticing my expression.

  “Yeah, I was just admiring your home.”

  “It’s a mess now. You should have seen it years ago.”

  I knew what he meant. He meant I should have seen it before his mom died. I glanced over at Nathan. His face was sullen and drawn. My innocent comment had unintentionally stirred up sorrowful memories for him as well.

  “Is there anything I can do? I’m used to chores,” I offered, trying to lighten the mood and feeling awful about depressing everyone.

  “Can you cook?” Nathan asked hopefully.

  “Nate, she’s not here to cook,” Zack snapped.

  “I don’t mind, Zack. I want to help.” I gave him a reassuring smile and then turned to include his brother. “What did you have in mind, Nate?” I asked, trying to get the show on the road.

  “Anything! My dad and brothers only know how to reheat stuff from a can. That’s all the cooking we do.”

  As I walked into the kitchen to see what I had to work with, the truth in Nate’s comment was evident. In the corner of the kitchen was a large, once-white rectangular trashcan filled to the brim with empty cans. There were at least a dozen chili cans, and another eight to ten ravioli cans. Mixed in intermittently were some cans of previously enjoyed beef stew and clam chowder, now crusty and abandoned. I wondered if they recycled. Seriously, if they used this many cans all the time, they could have a fortune if they took them to a recycling center. That’s when the idea hit me.

  “How much time do we have before your dad and brothers get home from work?” I asked with anticipation.

  “Three or f
our hours, why?” Zack responded.

  “Hey, Nate, do you guys have a lot more of these cans lying around?” I asked, excited by my idea.

  “Yeah, there’s several bags out in the shed. We usually use them for target practice and then take the rest to the dump. Why? You want our trash?” He looked confused, like his brother had brought home a bag lady.

  “Yeah, I do want them. Can you go get them?” I asked politely.

  “All of them?”

  “As many as you can find. Bottles and soda cans too,” I added, my excitement growing by the second. This was going to work! This was going to be great!

  Nate left to search the shed for my bounty. Zack turned to me. “What exactly are you cooking up, Liz?” His voice was curious and doubtful.

  “That’s just it, Zack. We need something to cook. Believe me, I looked, and there isn’t anything in this kitchen.”

  “So you’re going to cook some old cans?” he asked sarcastically.

  “No, of course not. But we need money to buy some food, right?”

  I saw a light go off in Zack’s head. “You want us to take the cans to the recycling center.” Zack smiled.

  “Yeah, I do. There must be at least sixty bucks here.”

  Zack, Nathan, and I headed off to the local recycling center, conveniently located in the supermarket parking lot. I was right. Seventy-six dollars and eighty-three cents later, my idea was a success.

  “Now let’s go shopping, shall we, boys?” I interlaced my arms through Nate and Zack’s in a very Wizard of Oz sort of way. With Nate on my left and Zack on my right, we merrily made our way to the market.

  “Your girl’s pretty clever there, Zack,” Nate complimented.

  “Yeah, she’s smart like that.” Zack leaned over and kissed me on my cheek appreciatively.

  When we got back to the farmhouse, we quickly unloaded the groceries. The whole trip had taken more time than I had expected, leaving me with only an hour and forty-five minutes to cook. At the store they’d had whole chickens on sale. Knowing that I was feeding four hard-working, big-eating guys, it was a deal I couldn’t pass up. Three chickens and nearly two dozen homemade biscuits later, we had a fried chicken meal fit for royalty—hungry royalty. I even threw in some green beans for good measure. And I figured if I budgeted, the money left over would almost last the rest of the week—that is, if we took advantage of the grocery store’s sales.