A Beautiful Sin (34 page)

“I have no regrets. It hurts to think about leaving the church. But I see no other option. My life has to be different. I’m going to be a father.”

“You have options, Canaan. There are many faiths that don’t have the same restrictions we do.”

I couldn’t fathom it. “I am a Catholic through and through.”

He nodded. “There are other options.”

And for a long time, we talked about what my options were. I walked away feeling free for the first time in my life. Father Tony made me see what I’d been unable to see before. God would forgive me, and I was only responsible for my own actions not others’. Something I’d counseled others about, but didn’t believe true for myself. But I could walk the right path. And I could still be involved in my faith without the cloth. There were many things I had to do, including finding Haven.

Being back in New York left me an emotional wreck. My pregnancy hormones had me riding the sentimental rollercoaster to Crazyville. My landlord, who I never liked and was rude to me most of the time, told me he was going to miss me when I went to give him my notice. I broke down and cried like he was my best friend. What the hell was that all about?

Then I happened to walk by a Catholic church. So I slipped inside to light a vigil light for my mom. A priest approached me, and I started bawling for no reason whatsoever. I was a mess. I hoped this hormonal crap didn’t last for the duration because I wouldn’t be able to stand it.

Later that night, I told Macie about how emotional I was and she laughed. “Yeah, it sort of sucks like that.”

“I wish it would stop. It’s crazy. I feel loopy.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been in the loopy line for quite a while, Have.”

“Right. Okie dokie. Thank you very much and I’m out of here.” I hung up and started scrolling through my phone to call the leasing people over at my warehouse. I needed to cancel that lease too. As I scrolled, Canaan’s name popped up. Oh, hell. Not quite what I needed to see. I wondered what he was up to and if he felt at all responsible for this baby. And just like that, the switch flipped and there I sat, sobbing. I threw my hands up, along with my phone, and went to my bed to cry it out.

A few days later, everything was lined up for my departure. All I needed now was for the time to pass. I pulled my shitty self together and started a painting for the hell of it. No surprise, it turned out to be Canaan in an almost fighter’s pose. The way he looked that night at the bar when he stood up to Kent. I never had anyone do that for me before; that was an image I’d always carry with me. When I visualized him, his intensity popped out, exactly like it did that night. Before I knew it, I had created an array of colors on my palette, and he was coming to life right before me on the canvas. He was magnificent. Every line and angle on his face spoke anger defined by protection. His stance, with fisted hands by his sides, mimicked control, but only barely. But most of all, I saw someone who was not afraid to show who and what he was, and his courage screamed a loud message.
Back the fuck off
. And I loved it. I settled into my work, knowing this one was all mine. He’d acted on his own, only for me, and this painting would remind me of that. This was the night my nugget was conceived, and I would never forget Canaan Sullivan.

A few days later Macie called with the good news. She’d found the perfect place. There was an extra room, not quite big enough for a bedroom, but it would be perfect for my studio. I told her it was a go.

Exactly two weeks later, the movers came and emptied out my apartment, I took a taxi to the airport, and that night I stayed at Macie’s. The following morning, I officially moved into my new apartment. It was done. I was now a resident of Chicago, eager to get my life on track.

The studio Jonathon set up for me was perfect. It had all the elements I needed, especially the privacy. All my supplies had been delivered earlier that morning, so I was free to paint my heart out. And that was what I did. It pleased Jonathon, but it pleased me even more. My life had come full circle. Yeah, I missed Canaan, and would always miss him, but he had left me with the most precious thing in the world—a part of him. And I would have that part forever.

Since I hadn’t seen my aunt, I figured it would be a good time to visit her before I got too involved with my work. When I walked in her door, I couldn’t believe the transformation in only a few short weeks.

“Wow. You look…young!”

Her hands covered her cheeks. “Really?”

“Better than I ever remember.” We hugged. “Kent in jail awaiting trial agreed with you.”

She looked somewhat ashamed. “I hate to say it, but yes. It’s the fact that now he has to behave, especially with the order of protection. I don’t have to cower anymore. He’s lost his status.”

I preened. “I’m not one to wish bad things on others, but—”

She nodded in agreement. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh, before I forget, I’ve been meaning to give some things to you.” She disappeared in her closet and came out with an envelope that was a bit yellowed with age and a box. “I found this after I got to feeling better when I went through my things. You know when you and Macie moved me, I just had you girls throw things in, and I honestly didn’t know what was in that old closet of mine. Anyway, I had forgotten about this stuff, and I’m sorry, honey. After your mom got sick, she asked me to give these things to you when you turned eighteen if she wasn’t able. But you’d left and I didn’t know where you were for a while.”

That was right. When I moved to New York, I broke off communications with her because of the devil.

“It’s okay. What is it?”

“It’s a letter from Juliana and some other things.”

Juliana was my mom. My hand covered my heart as it clanged under my breastbone so hard I was afraid it was going to bust on through.

The letter was in her hand and it looked as though it floated in mid air as I stared at it in disbelief.

“Haven.” My aunt’s voice was only a whisper.

My hand quivered as I reached for it.

“You don’t have to read it here if you don’t want.”

But I did. What if I had questions? My name was artfully written across the thick paper and I lovingly slid the tips of my fingers over the aged ink. My mom had written this. Hugging the envelope to my chest, I went and sat on the sofa. Then I tore the letter open. Thick folded pages were stuffed inside along with a photograph, but I didn’t want to look at it until I read the words my mother had penned.

My Dear Sweet Haven,

I picked the perfect name for you the day you came into this world, for that’s what you’ve been to me—my lovely haven. There are so many things I want to say to you, but the most important of them is that I love you. There isn’t enough paper and ink in the world to allow me to tell you how much, so I hope by these words you understand how much my heart fills with joy whenever I look at you or hear your voice. You have been my sole purpose for living. And I only wish I could have been healthy for you. But don’t worry, I’ll be watching you from Heaven. I promise.

Now on to something you should know. I wanted to tell you who your father was, but I wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand. Unfortunately, my health didn’t allow for that, so this letter will have to do.

He was a beautiful man, one who I loved from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. His name was Joseph Michael Evans. We met when I was only nineteen and fell hard and fast in love. He was in Chicago studying art. We dated for a year and secretly married because he valued my Catholic belief of no sex before marriage, and my parents wouldn’t have approved of me getting married so young. But my life heart died by tragedy when he was killed in a fatal car accident. It nearly destroyed me until I found out I was pregnant with you.

The saddest part of it all was he never knew. He was killed on his way back home from an art show, and I never got the chance to tell him the exciting news. That’s the other piece of the puzzle. You have inherited his extraordinary talent because he was an artist. I’ve watched you sketch over your few years and see the talent emerging from you. It reminded me of him so much. He would’ve been so proud of you.

We used to plan our future, and he told me he wanted to have children, and if he ever was so blessed, he hoped he or she would love art as much as he did. Wouldn’t he have been happy to know that his darling daughter could draw such astonishing pictures at such a young age?

So, keep sketching, beautiful Haven. One day, you will be famous. But most importantly, be happy. Find someone to live your dreams with. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to watch it all happen for you. But know that I’m watching from above with your father.

I love you more than words can say,

Mommy

P.S. I’m enclosing two pictures I have that were taken of us before…well, before. Hugs and kisses.

The room swam as my tears kept flowing. I handed the letter to my aunt so she could read it. I studied the photos of my father. I’d thought I looked so much like my mom, but I saw him in me as well. I had more questions, like where was his family and why she’d never introduced me to them.

When my aunt finished, we both looked like rainspouts after a summer storm.

I showed her the pictures. My father was very handsome. No wonder Mom had fallen so hard for him. Dark hair and eyes, he was stunning.

“Aunt Kathy, what was he like?”

“All about her. She was like the sunshine to him. But they were only together for a little over a year when he died. And she changed after that. Her spark dimmed. Everyone thought she’d pop back after a while, but she never did. When you came along, you were her reason for being. She never had any interest in another man after him.”

“Oh, that’s so sad. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She frowned. “Kent never allowed me to talk about her. I’m pretty sure he had a thing for her, if you want to know the truth. I never knew for certain, but that’s my opinion. I heard them arguing once. They didn’t know. I got the impression he’d asked her out repeatedly, but she turned him down. Looking back on it, I think he turned to me to be closer to her. That particular day he called her a whore after he found out she was pregnant, which was ironic considering. But, she never told him or anyone about Joseph or that they’d been married, except me and the priest at the church.”

I was so disgusted by that thought I scowled. “I’m sorry you ended up with him, but the thought of my mom and him together makes my skin crawl.”

“I know how much you hate him and you have good reason to. But something you don’t know was I wasn’t as devoted as my sister. I found myself pregnant and trapped. Kent married me because our parents gave us no choice. I lost the child and with complications I won’t trouble you with, my ability to have more.” When I gaped, she patted my hand. “God had his reasons. And Kent resented me ever since with no baby to tie us together, but being Catholic, no way out.”

“I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m blessed for having time with you. I wish I could have been a better replacement for your mom.”

“No, we aren’t going down this road. What’s done is done. Let’s change the subject. I’m happy to know who my dad was. For whatever reason, I always assumed it was some random man she hooked up with.”

Aunt Kathy laughed. “Not Juliana. She was too straight-laced to do that. When she found out she was pregnant, she was devastated because she didn’t have the chance to tell him because he’d died. Then she was so ecstatic to have a piece of him in you. But Haven, they wanted children. She was just shocked because it happened so fast after they were married. Aren’t you going to look in the box?”

The box! I’d forgotten about it. I opened the lid and inside were all sorts of things, but I was shocked to see sketches I had done of my mom when I was young.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe it! She saved these.”

“She saved everything. I hid these so Kent couldn’t throw them away. I also managed to save some of the ones you drew when you lived with us.”

Upon closer inspection, I noticed how good they were for a little kid. Then I saw something else, and I almost shouted for joy. They were sketches my father drew. They were of my mom when they must’ve dated.

“He was so talented.” Mom was seated on the grass in the park with the cityscape in the background. I knew what my next painting would be.

“Keep looking, Haven.”

There were lots of photographs in there, of me and Mom, of Mom and Dad, and Mom, Dad, and Aunt Kathy. Of Aunt Kathy holding a baby. “Is this me?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You were adorable. We used to fight over you.”

All of my attention was centered on all of this, my mom and dad, for the rest of the night. To be honest, it was a relief to learn that she wasn’t a slut in any way, like Kreepy Kent had accused her of being. And the irony of it all was we had so much in common now, it was a shame she wasn’t here to advise me. Being a single mom wasn’t going to be easy and having her around would’ve been amazing. I fell asleep with the picture of my parents hugged to my chest.