Beautifully Forgotten (10 page)

Fourteen years earlier . . .

The room smelled like death. Darcy had heard that expression before, but never appreciated the meaning until now. The staleness in the air and the subtle scent of decay lingered and clung to everything. Sister Anne had lost so much weight that she was almost unrecognizable. Lucien was retrieving her lunch tray from the kitchen, not that Sister Anne was going to eat it.

Darcy walked to her dresser and placed the vase of freshly cut yellow and pink snapdragons where Sister Anne would see them.

“They’re beautiful, thank you, Darcy.”

“Oh, I thought you were asleep.”

“Please join me. I like the company.”

Darcy settled on the chair next to Sister Anne’s bed and tried not to show her discomfort, but it was hard to look at her; she was so different from the vital woman she had been. “Lucien’s getting your lunch.”

Tenderness washed over her face. “He’s been so wonderful.” Sister Anne’s bony hand reached for Darcy’s and held it with surprising force.

“He loves you.”

Embarrassment turned Darcy’s cheeks pink before she replied, “I love him.”

“He’ll need you when I’m gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

An exhale that sounded more like a death rattle escaped Sister Anne’s throat. “Good. The road ahead isn’t going to be easy for either of you, but anything is possible when there’s love.” Sister
Anne’s eyes moved from Darcy to the flowers.

“So simple and yet so comforting. If He can create something so beautiful in this life, then how can I fear what He has in store for me in the next?” Her gaze turned back to Darcy. “Thank you for the reminder.”

Lucien entered with Sister Anne’s tray and placed it on the table near her bed.

“Thank you, Lucien. I’m tired, but I promise I will eat something when I wake.”

“I’ll check on you later.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss on her forehead before he turned and reached for Darcy’s hand. She allowed him to pull her from the room and down the hall. When they reached a dark corner, he turned into her and wrapped her tightly into his arms. He buried his face in her neck and, though he said nothing, she could feel the tension in his body. They stood like that for quite some time before his head lifted to hers. She saw his pain reflected in his eyes.

“When she’s gone, you will be all I have left.” His words were a harsh whisper.

“You are all that I have.”

His strong hands cradled her face as he stared at her intently. “Your mother is an asshole, but I will be forever grateful that she dropped an angel into my life. You and me, Darcy, always.”

The emotion behind his words made her eyes sting. Someone who always seemed so strong and in control had a weakness, and to know that she was his weakness was humbling.

“Always,” she vowed.

“Can I help you find anything else?” the flower lady snapped Darcy back to the present. Living in the past was dangerous. She seriously needed to move on. Lucien had.

Lucien sat across from his accountant, but he hadn’t heard a single word the man said. Ever since Darcy had come back into his life, he couldn’t seem to pull his thoughts from the past, which was infuriating, because he was a firm believer that what was done was done. He really shouldn’t be all that surprised that he was acting so out of character—Darcy had always had some kind of strange influence over him. When they were younger, he had thought it was love, but now he was leaning more toward dark magic. Regardless, seeing her again had him constantly looking back for answers he suspected he would never find.

His mind drifted back even further to when he was dumped at St. Agnes. He remembered the fear and the loneliness that had been so overwhelming that at times it had threatened to consume him. Sister Anne was the only one to see how difficult the adjustment was for him, and she stepped up. She became his teacher, his disciplinarian, his friend, and his protector. She had made the intolerable tolerable and gave a lost boy hope that someday it would get better.

Twenty-three years earlier . . .

“Sissy boy. Are you gonna cry, baby?”

He tried to not listen, tried to ignore them like Sister Anne was forever encouraging him to do, but the fury that was always simmering just below the surface started to boil. He wasn’t even aware that he had balled his hands into fists, or that he had taken a few steps closer to his taunter, until he pulled back his hand, stepped into the punch, and nailed the bully in the face.

Stars sparked in his vision and his hand throbbed like a mother, but seeing the look of shock and just a touch of fear on the face of the jerk he punched—yeah, it was worth it.

Sister Anne appeared, as she had a habit of doing, but it was the look of disappointment on her face that gave Lucien a moment of guilt. He wanted to please her but sometimes it was just too hard to rise above.

“Take Jake to the nurse, Billie. And don’t for a second think that this is over, Jacob. I know you started this and we will have words.”

Lucien watched as Jake was helped away; the sight of his blood dripping down his face drew a smile.

“That’s nothing to be proud of, Lucien.”

He knew the look on her face, the one that said far more than mere words ever could. He didn’t want to look, but he also didn’t want to be a coward. He braced himself before he turned his attention to her. He was not disappointed.

“Hitting is not the answer. Any animal can hit. Rise above it. Use your words, Lucien, not your fists.”

“Sometimes that is easier said than done,” he muttered.

Tenderness swept her face before she said, “I know, but in life you have to find solutions without using your fists.”

“Maybe I’ll be a fighter.” He knew, even to his eight-year-old ears, that he sounded like a baby.

“Be a fighter—but for the love of the sport. Fighting for any other reason is just a cop-out.”

She knelt down in front of him and gently took his hand into her own and studied the broken skin and blood.

“Let’s get this cleaned up.”

He knew his shoulders were slumped in defeat, because as much as he had wanted to hit Jake, he was upset that he had disappointed Sister Anne. She stood to lead him away, but drew him close to her side in a half hug.

“With that all being said, I think I would have hit him too.” She winked at him before she led him to the infirmary. Inside his little chest, his heart swelled with love.

“Mr. Black?” Lucien focused back on his accountant. “Should we reschedule?”

If the older man was annoyed about the sudden change of plans, he remained professional about it.

“Thanks for being so accommodating. I’m a bit distracted,” Lucien said in the way of an apology before he saw the man out. He closed his door and poured himself three fingers of Scotch. He wasn’t one for drinking during the day, but he needed a drink now. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize the gift that had been bestowed on him when Darcy arrived at St. Agnes. For those two years as he watched Sister Anne slowly lose her battle with cancer, he’d had Darcy. With everything that Sister Anne had been to him, it was Darcy who became his salvation.

Sixteen years earlier . . .

Lucien didn’t cry, hadn’t shed a tear in years, but he was damn close to it now. Sister Anne was dying. There weren’t even words to express the desolation that filled him. He wanted to rage at the world, but what was the point?

She moved so soundlessly that he didn’t hear her until she spoke from behind him. Darcy.

“I just heard about Sister Anne. I am so sorry, Lucien.”

He wasn’t able to answer and Darcy seemed to understand that when she continued. “A bird fell out of its nest once outside our building. The superintendent took it in, but he said he was too old to care for it. He asked if I would help and immediately I jumped at the opportunity. Every day I would visit, offering it food and company. It was so thin, you could see his bones and he had no feathers yet. He looked pathetic, but I loved that bird. For weeks I would run home from school and head straight to the super’s office to look after my little bird.

“One day, when I arrived, the box was empty. He told me the bird miraculously grew very strong and flew off. I wanted to believe that, but I knew he was only trying to make it easier for me. My bird had died, not because he wasn’t loved and offered the nourishment he needed, but because sometimes we can’t stop the inevitable. Though I was heartbroken, there was a large part of me that was grateful. For that short time in my life, I found a reason to get up in the morning. For those few weeks, I had a purpose and felt pride in what I was doing. Even losing my bird, I wouldn’t have traded that time for anything.”

She reached for Lucien’s hand. “You can’t stop what’s coming, but you were and are so lucky to have her in your life. We aren’t all that fortunate.”