“Hilda, you’re sure you don’t mind my leaving a little early?” Teri’s brows knit with concern as she pocketed Mrs. Warnler’s tip and pulled on her red boots.
“You’ve asked me that at least three times, Teri. Stop being such a worrywart. It’s no problem. I already told you I’ll take care of any walk-ins this afternoon.” Hilda waved her dimpled hand carelessly. She was a heavyset woman whose brilliant plum-red hair was styled in an outrageous asymmetrical cut. “If you’re going to fly to Maui with all those big shot celebrities, you need some fancy new clothes. Just don’t get trampled by the crowds. You know the day after Thanksgiving is the biggest shopping day of the year.”
Mrs. Warnler was bracing her drying nails on the manicure table. Her gaze followed Teri as the manicurist grabbed her purse and denim jacket.
“Go to Hudson’s,” she advised. “Their sales are the best. My daughter-in-law is there today too. She circled so much stuff in that two-page ad that my son will probably need a second job just to pay for her ‘bargains.’”
Everyone laughed except Teri, who was scowling out at the gray snow heaping up outside the beauty shop window.
“Hey,” Josie yelled, jabbing Teri with a bony finger as she maneuvered her broom across the hair clippings dusting the floor. “Can’t you even crack a smile anymore? Next thing we know, you’ll be walking around in dark sunglasses, your nose in the air, too snooty to even say hello.”
At this, Teri grinned and elbowed her back. “Watch out or I’ll start charging you for my autograph.”
But as Teri pulled out her carefully delineated list of things she’d need for her trip to Maui, including a new strapless bra, a dinner suit, and a decent cosmetic bag to replace the ratty plastic pouch she kept in her purse, she couldn’t shake the uneasiness gnawing at her, that feeling of impending doom she’d been harboring ever since the Oprah Winfrey Show. Although she’d had nearly a month to get used to the idea, and she and Brian had been whisked to New York for wardrobe fittings and had actually met Eve Hamel and Nico Caesarone, the whole Perfect Bride experience still seemed like a wild dream from which she’d soon awaken.
But, in a little more than a month, she was scheduled to be in Hawaii to have her picture taken for a publication that would be seen by millions of people. Between that and Oprah Winfrey’s show, what are the chances that my cover’s blown? she wondered anxiously.
She left the shop still frowning, and ducked her head against the wind whipping snow into her face. By the time she had pulled her car on to the Southfield Freeway and headed toward Fairlane Mall, she was convinced that it was only a matter of time before she’d have to answer to the past.
Images flashed through her mind. Easter dinner at home. Her brothers and sisters licking chocolate off their fingers and tossing jelly beans and marshmallow chicks at one another, her mother and Grandma Parelli in the kitchen, washing the dishes as Teri brought them in from the dining room, her father and Grandpa Randazzo setting up a game of bocce in the backyard.
“You better keep your eye on that one,” her grandmother had told her mother with an all-knowing nod. “She’s too much like my sister, Gertrude. I can see it in her eyes.”
“Ma, what are you talking about? Gina’s a good girl. She gets straight As. Sister Dorothea tells me she even volunteers to help with the younger children.”
“Don’t you tell me,” Grandma interjected, shaking a wet finger. “She’s the spitting image of Gertrude and she’s stubborn just like her. She’ll bring you trouble yet if you don’t lay down the law with her.”
“She’s only twelve years old! She doesn’t even have a boyfriend, Ma...”
“How do you know? Look at her skirts. Two inches above the knee. Whoever heard of such a thing?” Her grandmother turned just then and saw her in the doorway, listening to them.
“Bah, little pitchers have big ears!” Grandma Parelli had exclaimed angrily. “See what I mean? Instead of finishing her job, she’s sneaking around here, listening to things that are none of her business. What does that tell you?”
Her mother had sighed, and shooed her from the kitchen with such an exasperated look that Gina had been sure she’d get a lecture later. But instead, when her mother tucked her into bed that night, she spoke in that quiet, concerned way that always made Gina pay attention to her.
“Your Grandma Parelli loves you—you know that. You’re her oldest grandchild, and she expects a lot from you.”
“I know, Ma,” she’d whispered, studying the little holes in the crocheted bedspread. “I try, but she finds fault with everything I do. I wish Grandpa Parelli was still alive so she wouldn’t have to live with us.”
“You have to understand Grandma a little. She loved Aunt Gertrude very much, and looked up to her because Aunt Gertrude was her big sister. When she got in trouble...”
“What kind of trouble, Ma? No one ever says.”
Her mother shook her head. “That’s not important. She disgraced her family and she was sent to live in the convent. I know you don’t ever want to be like Aunt Gertrude, do you, Gina?”
“No, Ma, of course I don’t!” she cried vehemently, shocked. “You know I love you and Daddy!”
“That’s good.” Her mother smiled, and kissed her, and Gina thought she looked relieved. “Grandma just wants to make sure that all her grandchildren stay good and pure, that they don’t get into any trouble and disgrace the family. But I know I’ve brought my children up to be good Catholics, to honor their family, and to do only the right things. I’m not worried about you in the least.”
Then why are you discussing all this with me? Gina thought. She felt miserable and confused and she wasn’t sure why. When her mother was gone, she crept out of bed and peered at herself in the mirror. Celia, two years younger, was already asleep on the top bunk of the bed she shared with six year-old Lena, who was snoring softly into her teddy bear’s ear. Gina turned on the night-light to see herself better. Do I really look like Aunt Gertrude? she wondered, touching her own long, dark hair, thinking back to the sepia photograph she had seen of a young girl with brown curly hair and doe eyes set within a pretty, wistful face.
No one will come out and say it, but I’ll bet she got pregnant and had a baby, Gina decided. She shuddered at the thought. I’d never do anything like that. Why is Ma so worried? Does she believe everything Grandma says?
Gina climbed back into bed, convinced that her grandmother was superstitious and old-fashioned and too eager to criticize. I hate being the oldest, she thought. I always have to set the example for everyone else. Why couldn’t Celia, Little Miss Perfect, have been born first?
Still, she snuggled down into her pillow and said a silent prayer before she went to sleep. “Dear God, please don’t let me go astray like Aunt Gertrude. I want my mother and father to always be proud of me.”
Teri’s eyes filled with tears at the memory. Suddenly the Mazda in front of her skidded on the snow-glazed pavement and she slammed on her brakes, adrenaline streaking through her. Her car fishtailed into the other lane as Teri pumped furiously at her brakes. After one long, frightening moment, she maneuvered the Volvo out of the skid and crept forward, clutching the wheel with shaking hands.
As if I weren’t nervous enough already, Teri thought bleakly. She took a deep breath. Will I ever feel calm again?
So far, there had been no word either from her brother or from Andrew. And no news was good news, right?
But she couldn’t help feeling that all this unwanted publicity—the last thing in the world she would have anticipated the morning of her birthday—would be her undoing.
Anyone else who’d been selected for this kind of adventure would be riding a carousel of happiness, but she felt as if she were on the roller coaster from hell.
She knew Brian was getting pretty fed up with her. She couldn’t blame him. But she couldn’t ever explain the real reason behind her anxieties. If Brian found out about all the lies, all the deception, she was sure it would destroy his trust in her.
You’ve got to stop worrying all the time, she told herself as she pulled into the giant slush-filled parking lot and began circling futilely in search of a parking space. But Teri sensed —
even as she prayed to St. Anthony, the finder of lost things, to find her a parking spot —
that the moment she stopped worrying, something awful would happen.
I’ve lost enough, she thought, at last wedging her car between a van and a station wagon. I can’t lose Brian too.
Two hours later she tossed her packages into the trunk and headed home, determined to cook herself and Brian a nice dinner, model the outfit she’d found to wear on the plane, and for Brian’s sake drum up some enthusiasm for this Perfect Bride fiasco. Even if it was phony enthusiasm.
* * *
“Do you have any idea how long you’ve been fiddling with that clump of broccoli? About twenty minutes.” Brian set down his fork and studied her across the chicken-rice casserole.
“You’ve been timing me?” Teri asked, pushing a strand of hair behind her ears and trying to smile with good humor.
Brian pushed back his chair with a scrape. He carried his plate to the sink and dumped the leftovers into the garbage disposal. “I’ve heard of prenuptial jitters, but this is getting ridiculous. You’re so busy chewing your fingernails all the time, you can’t even eat a decent meal. I bet you’ve lost five pounds since we went to Chicago.”
“Stop picking on me, Bri,” Teri said in a low tone. “That’s not making it any easier.”
“Making what any easier, Teri?” Brian exploded, wheeling back to face her. “This should be the happiest time of our lives. We’re getting married, and now you’ve won this contest and we’re going to get an unbelievable honeymoon in Hawaii. Hawaii, Teri, Hawaii. That’s been our dream. We never thought it would happen—and it did. What in the world do you have to feel down about?”
Teri stared helplessly at him, unable to offer a word in her own defense. Her heart was bursting with explanations she’d never be able to utter, aching with the secrets she feared would rob her of Brian’s love.
“Don’t cry, Teri,” Brian warned, slamming his fist on the counter. “Dammit, you know I can’t stand it when you cry.”
But she couldn’t stop the sobs that choked her.
“Oh, shit,” Brian groaned, and then he was beside her, taking her in his arms. Leaning against him, she wept, and drew comfort from his arms tight around her.
“You know me and my plans, Brian,” she gasped at last. “I like to be in control of my life. I like to know everything that’s coming up. I never counted on any of this Perfect Bride stuff.” She wiped the back of her hand across her tear-streaked face. “And you know I hate having my picture taken.”
Brian laughed.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I just want to get married, get my degree, and settle down. I don’t want to be a celebrity. I just want to have a normal life.”
“We will, babe, we will.” Brian stroked her hair. Teri’s hair was always so soft and fragrant, like flower petals. She seemed so delicate in his arms.
He felt like a jerk for badgering her. “I just wish you could try to enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame. Hey, in the click of a shutter this will all be over, and before you know it, we’ll be showing those magazine pictures to our grandkids.”
“Grandkids—give me a break,” Teri giggled. She lifted her face to peer impishly up at him. “Even I haven’t planned quite that far down the road.”
Brian’s lips moved warmly against hers. Teri wrapped her arms around his waist and cuddled closer.
“You just need to relax,” Brian said softly. “Let Dr. Michaelson fix you up.”
“But the dishes... and I didn’t even model my sexy new silk outfit for you yet,” Teri murmured, curling her fingers around his neck.
“Model your birthday suit,” Brian muttered huskily. He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. “That’s the sexiest suit I ever saw.”
A half hour later Teri was still atop him as the doorbell pealed. “Let’s just ignore that,” she said leaning forward across him.
“Damned right we’ll ignore it,” Brian panted. He twined his legs about her, focusing on her breasts bobbing invitingly just out of reach of his month. He tried valiantly to concentrate on nibbling them as the doorbell rang again. And again.
“Fuck.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Teri groaned, sighing when Brian’s lips ensnared her nipple just as chimes once more sounded throughout the apartment.
“Who the hell is it? If that’s Josie, I’ll kill her,” she vowed.
Brian in exasperation tumbled from the bed and reached for his jeans.
Teri noted wistfully that his erection was gone. Gone but not forgotten, she hoped. She jumped up to throw on her pink chenille robe. Brian tugged on a plaid flannel shirt, buttoning it as he headed for the door.
What a time for company. Not only had she and Brian been in the middle of the best sex they’d had in a month, but the dirty dishes were still strewn all over the table and countertops, the casserole sat hardening next to the half-empty bowl of broccoli and wilted salad remains, and she’d forgotten that the day’s newspapers were littering the sofa and coffee table, alongside her pile of Hudson’s bags.
Please don’t let it be Brian’s parents, she prayed as she rushed into the living room. Brian’s mother was a fastidious housekeeper who never left the kitchen without Windexing all the counters. Teri grabbed the newspapers and stuffed them under the sofa cushions just as Brian unlatched the deadbolt.
“Yeah?” Brian said, pulling the door open.
“Yes?” His tone changed as he saw that the couple in the dimly lit hall wasn’t one of their friends or anyone he recognized.
“We’re here to see Gina—I mean, Teri,” the woman said hesitantly. Teri stood behind Brian like a deer caught in the oncoming headlights of a semi. The woman in the doorway spotted her and cried out: “Gina... Gina, oh, my God, it is you.”
Teri’s heart seemed to stop as she gazed at the two achingly familiar faces peering at her with a mixture of joy and uncertainty.
The young woman dodged past Brian and hurtled herself straight at Teri. “Gina, Gina,” she sobbed repeatedly.
Teri caught her in her arms.
“Celia,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and felt her sister’s arms tight around her, breathed in the familiar scent of English lavender soap Celia had always favored as a teenager. She touched the rough wool of Celia’s car coat, as if to assure herself that her sister was really there.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Teri breathed.
As Celia buried her face against Teri’s shoulder and cried with joy, Teri looked beyond at the handsome blond man in the olive drab trench coat who was staring at her with burning gray eyes.
Andrew. Oh, God, it was Andrew.
She started to shake.
“Do you mind if I come in?” The blond man spoke quietly to Brian, who was gazing at Teri and Celia in complete bewilderment.
“Who are you?” Brian demanded. “And who the hell is Gina?”
The blond man’s glance swept from Teri to Brian and back. “You know her as Teri Mathews. We knew her as Gina Randazzo.”
He extended his hand. “I’m Andrew Leonetti, an old friend of the family.” He studied Brian’s puzzled face with sympathy. “Got a beer, buddy? I think it’s going to be a long night.”
Teri lived through the next hour in a haze. She barely spoke, she barely breathed. She sat hand in hand with Celia, the sister she hadn’t seen in ten years, murmuring clipped explanations to all Celia’s questions. Even to her own ears her voice sounded thin and mechanical. Brian sat across from her in stunned silence. From the corner of her eye she could see Andrew near the window, watching her, carefully keeping his emotions in check.
She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t have to. The image of his face had been emblazoned in her mind all the years they’d been apart. She could feel the heat of his eyes upon her as she huddled on the sofa wearing nothing but her pink chenille robe.
“So let me get this straight,” Brian said, his tone strained and incredulous as he got to his feet and paced around the sofa. “You tripped some old nun outside the confessional, she fell down, and you ran away from home? And changed your name? And haven’t bothered to call your family in ten years to tell them you’re still alive?”
How could she explain? There was so much more, but she couldn’t tell him the rest. Not now. Not ever. The real truth about why Gina Randazzo ran away was something she could discuss only with Andrew. Or could she?
In her mind’s eye she saw the elm trees looming overhead, felt the soft fibers of the red and black woven blanket beneath her legs, heard the distant laughter of the parish children playing tag around the picnic tables.
Brian was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.
“Brian.” Teri swallowed. She had to say something to try to help him understand. All this time he’d believed she was an only child, raised by her grandmother in the Upper Peninsula after her parents were killed in a plane crash when she was four. She’d told Brian that after her grandmother had died, there was nothing to keep her in the small town of Houghton. No relatives except distant cousins in Canada. So she’d moved to Detroit to work her way through Wayne State University—leaving small-town life behind.
He must feel as if he’s looking at a stranger, she thought. Her hands were clammy within the grip of Celia’s soft, tapered fingers. “There’s no way I could ever explain it,” she started feebly. “I was sixteen, I panicked. I didn’t stop and think—I just ran.”
“But ten years, Teri. You never thought about it afterward? Never thought to call your parents so they wouldn’t worry? Never bothered even to tell me?” Growing more and more angry, Brian came to a halt beside her, and she saw the betrayal and disillusionment clouding his face.
“Brian, listen...”
She stood up, but Brian had turned away. He grabbed his coat from the hall closet and spoke without looking at her. “I need some fresh air. I’m sorry, I just can’t deal with all of this right now. Don’t wait up. Like the man said, it’s going to be a long night.”
He didn’t slam the door. He closed it. But the finality of the latch clicking chilled her heart. She wanted to run after him, but what good would it have done?
She stared into Celia’s puffy, tear-streaked face. Ten years had added several pounds to her sister’s once-svelte figure, but Celia was still as pretty as she’d been at fourteen. Spiraling chestnut curls framed her face, which was heart-shaped, like Teri’s. Her chestnut eyes were still so vividly expressive that looking at her sister now, Teri knew that Celia’s heart was in as many pieces as her own.
All these years Teri had imagined how much agony her disappearance had caused her close-knit family. But Celia had lived through it, and every scar was visible in her sagging shoulders and the hollows under her eyes.
“Celia,” Teri whispered, “tell me about Ma and Daddy, and Tony, and Dina and everyone. My God, you don’t know how I’ve been dying to know.”
“But not dying enough to call us, Gina.”
Teri’s eyes overflowed with tears. “Don’t hate me, Celia. I suffered too.”
“Do you know what those Christmases were like? Easter? Ma’s birthday? Ma’s funeral?”
Teri flinched as though she’d been struck. The color drained from her face. “Ma? Oh, God, Celia, Ma’s dead? What happened?”
“She was hit by a drunk driver. Three years ago.” Celia scowled at the tears streaming down Teri’s cheeks. “Sure, cry. She cried enough over you. But you couldn’t even take the time to call and let us know you were alive. Why?”
Teri shook with grief. How could Ma be dead?
“Why?” Celia demanded.
Teri blurted out, “I did call. But Grandma Parelli answered the phone. I panicked. I knew she’d ask me a thousand questions. I couldn’t deal with it.”
“You couldn’t deal with it?” Celia glared at her. Her voice rose. “Can you even begin to imagine how many hospitals we checked, how many people we called, how many places we looked? Father Andrew can tell you. We searched for years.”
“Oh, Ma,” Teri wept. “Ma, forgive me.”
Andrew came forward and stood behind Celia, gently clasping her shoulders, but his eyes never left Teri’s face. “Celia, this is a difficult time for everyone involved. There’ll be plenty of opportunities to work through all of the emotions, through all the lost years.”
Teri clung to the sound of his low-timbered voice, and willed time to melt away. Father Leonetti, the sensitive young priest she had first encountered at Mass at St. Anne’s, had always exuded comfort and wisdom. Right now she needed both. She wondered how he could be so detached from all of this that he could calmly counsel Celia. Had he set aside his own inner turmoil? Or isn’t he feeling anything of what I’m feeling?
“You’ve just given Gina some very hard news,” Andrew continued in his quiet way. “I think this is not the time to attack, but to comfort each other.”
Sobbing, Celia raised a tormented face to stare at him. “I’m sorry, Father.” she gasped. “I can’t just yet. I love her, but I could kill her for all she’s put us through.” With that, she fled into the bathroom and slammed the door.
Teri covered her face with her hands and wept. After a few moments she looked up at Andrew through her tears and read the compassion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he held out his arms to her, and in an instant she flung herself into them.
She sobbed until she was spent. His warm fingers stroked her hair as he held her.
“Andrew... I mean, Father,” she broke off in confusion.
“It’s only Andrew now, Gina. I’ve left the priesthood.”
Teri shook her head slowly, trying to take in this revelation. “When?”
“Two months after you left.”
He nodded toward the closed bathroom door and lowered his voice. “We’ve got to talk alone, Gina. Not tonight. Meet me tomorrow, please.” She heard desperation and determination in his words. Gazing into those intense gay eyes, Teri felt herself being sucked into a whirlpool of emotions.
“Tomorrow,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Brian, forgive me.
“There’s a Burger King a few miles from the beauty shop where I work,” she went on. “The lunch crowd is gone by one-thirty. I can meet you then.”
God, forgive me.
Teri took a deep breath. “We do need to talk, Andrew. But I’m scared you won’t like what I have to say.”
His gray eyes bored into her with the same directness she had never forgotten. He must be in his mid-thirties by now, Teri realized, staring at the slight, fine lines beginning to form around his eyes. Some of the earnest boyishness was gone, but he was still achingly handsome—tall, lean, with a strong face and an air of solid goodness about him. The nearness of him once again was more than she could bear. This was really happening—she wasn’t dreaming. She felt as if her legs were about to buckle under her and fought to keep her grip on reality.
How would she tell him? How in heaven’s name would she tell him what she’d done?
The bathroom door creaked open. Celia appeared, her face red and swollen from crying. She tried to look at Teri, but couldn’t and stared instead at the framed Montreaux jazz poster on the dining room wall.
“I know Father Andrew is right, and I’ll try, Gina, I really will,” she said slowly. She picked up her coat from the dining room chair. “But I think we’ve said all we should for tonight. I’m going back to the motel to phone Daddy and tell them all that we’ve found you.” She hesitated. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
Teri rubbed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her forehead. “Of course. Come for dinner. Both of you.”
Suddenly, she ran to Celia and clutched her hand. “Try to forgive me,” she begged.
Celia’s fingers closed tightly for a moment around hers before they pulled away. “I’m trying, Gina. We’re all going to try.”
Andrew touched Teri’s shoulder. “Tomorrow,” he said purposefully.
Teri met his gaze in silent acknowledgement.
The moment they were gone, she began pacing frantically around the apartment. What a pigsty. What a mess. It will take me hours to clean this up.
Anything was better than thinking through what had just happened.
She began furiously loading the dishes into the dishwasher. She scooped the remains of the casserole into a plastic container, then changed her mind and dumped the glop down the sink. She scrubbed the casserole dish, dried it, and stuck it in the refrigerator—then stood stock-still, staring at it. Oh, God, I’m going crazy.
She glanced at the kitchen clock. Anxiety clawed at her. It was 11:45. Where had Brian gone? Was he coming back?
She ran to the bedroom, opened the drawer in her nightstand, and frantically searched for the rosary beads buried beneath receipts, rubber bands, and canceled checks. Clutching the rosary, she dropped to her knees beside the bed like she had when she was a little girl. The words tumbled brokenly from her lips.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”