Mercy of St Jude (28 page)

“I'll have to take that chance.” Even as he said it, he knew she'd never do it. And just as suddenly he felt sure she wouldn't leave him either. She would not let her father be right, nor would she allow the family name to be sullied.

On the other hand, if he was wrong, if his marriage did end, Mercedes would be saddled with even more guilt. “We can do this, Judith. We can raise the baby, be a family. Think about it, a helpless baby. We can't give her to strangers. Please, Judith?” She sat absolutely still, except for her face. The woman had one of the most expressive faces Callum had ever seen. He watched as the anger subsided, the resignation set in, the calculations began.

“I can't believe you've put us in this situation. But we are a family and families should stick together,” she said stiffly. “We will have to make the best of it.”

“It will all work out, I promise.”

“We shall see.” She stood abruptly. “For now, let's get some sleep.”

The red-tinged sky rose slowly behind them as they drove into daybreak. Callum, still tired after a restless night, glanced over at Judith. Her face was paler than usual. Tiny lines edged the corners of her mouth, lines he'd never noticed before.

Judith broke the silence. “If I am going to do this, I have certain conditions.”

Callum missed the brief vulnerability of the night before.

“This needs some getting used to,” she said, “taking on a child all of a sudden. Most women get nine months, and what do I get? A day? Less than that even.”

“I'm sorry. I wish there was some other way.”

She dismissed his apology with a flutter of fingers. “There are issues we need to deal with. For starters, no one is to know where it came from, including your brother.”

“But the Sisters at St. Agatha's all know. And your father and your uncle.”

“My family will do whatever it takes to keep this quiet. And those damn nuns won't breathe a word if the money's right.”

Callum kept his voice as even as possible. “What else?”

“She has to stay away from the child, no contact whatsoever. If I could arrange it she'd never know we adopted it, but I can't figure out a way around that.”

He took his eyes from the pavement. “But we're family. She's bound to see her some time even if we do live in different countries.”

“Not if you prevent it.”

“I can't do that. Besides, Merce is going to need help after all this.”

“We'll get her some help. I didn't mean we'd just turn our backs on her.”

Callum hesitated. “I thought she could stay with us for a while. We could make up some excuse about why she was sick.”

Judith's head turned sharply in his direction. “You're not listening to me. If, and I do mean if, I adopt this baby, I will be her only mother. She must never ever know about Mercedes. Is that clear?”

“Yes, I heard you but how can that happen?”

“I'll tell you how.” Her voice had risen. “Mercedes has to agree to every bit of this or it's off. I know you think this wasn't her fault but that hardly matters now. I have to do what I think is best, and as far as I'm concerned she has to stay out of that baby's life. For that to happen she'll have to make sure they never meet.” She waited half a minute. “Which means giving you up along with her little bastard.”

Callum clenched the wheel. No one besides Paddy Griffin had ever inspired such anger in him. “I can't just send Mercedes home alone after this nightmare. You got to understand I can't do that to her.”

“If I know anything at all in this whole mess it's that you love your goddamn sister.” Her voice shot up in anger. “But that's the point. It's all her, isn't it? I won't have her in my house, with her brother and her baby, both of whom would be more rightly mine than hers. It will never work.”

“But where can she go? She's too sick to go back home, and there's—”

Her hand sliced the air between them. “I wasn't awake half the night for nothing. I'm hoping she can stay at St. Agatha's until she's recovered.”

“I thought she was only allowed to stay a week after the baby was born?”

“I'm sure they'll make an exception. We'll pay dearly but they'll agree, especially if it's for the future of that child. It's going to be ringing up a lot of bills.”

Callum deliberately kept his focus on the snow-covered road ahead. “She,” he said.

“She? She what?” Judith asked impatiently.

“You said ‘it.' She's not an ‘it, ' she's a baby girl.”

He could feel her silent antagonism across the seat.

“As for Mercedes,” Judith finally said. “We could have her tutored. Some of the best people have their children tutored, and those nuns are more educated than most. Afterwards she could go to university and finally take care of herself.”

“And where would we get the money for all this?”

“You know damn well where we'll get the money.”

“Dear old Dad keeps on coming through, doesn't he?” The car sped faster.

“Slow down!” In one breath, her voice softened. “Does it matter where the money comes from? If I can convince the Sisters, leave that part to me, okay?”

The temptation to make all of it as right as possible, to take everything he could get for Mercedes, was too great. “She could be a teacher like she always dreamed.”

“Only if she agrees completely to do as I say.”

He felt a ripple of excitement. Judith could never understand the magnitude of that dream but she was willing to pay for it to make Mercedes go away. It was an easy concession to make with the weight of the Maclean fortune behind her. Funny, he thought, how little money mattered to one for whom it meant so much.

They pulled up in front of St. Agatha's. As he got out of the car he glanced up to the second-floor window where Mercedes lay waiting for whatever fate God, and they, had in store for her. He opened Judith's door.

She didn't move. “Do we have a deal?”

The icy air felt sharp in his lungs, but it did nothing to deaden the pain of what he had to do to his sister. “Yes, and may God have mercy on our souls.”

She eyed him coldly, then took his hand and stepped from the car.

“Can I have some time alone with her first?” he asked once they were inside.

Judith looked at her watch. “Five minutes.”

Knowing she'd be keeping time, Callum hurried upstairs. Sister Mary Margaret seemed to sense his urgency and immediately left the room.

Callum kissed Mercedes' forehead. Her eyes opened. “Callum, you're here.”

“How are you, Mercie? Are you in pain?”

“How's my baby? Is she gone yet? Did they take her away already?”

Callum put his finger to his lips. “I only got a couple of minutes before Judith comes in. Remember what you asked about my adopting the baby. I know I said we couldn't but I worked out a deal with Judith so I can.”

Her eyes widened with hope. “Oh, my God, Callum, thank you.”

“But you have to agree to what she wants.” His voice was rushed.

“I'll do anything if we can keep her.”

“She's got conditions. I don't like them and neither will you.

Just remember, I'll be the baby's father. Maybe over time Judith will mellow and I'll try to change things. But can you accept them for today? Because I don't know what else to do.”

“It's that bad?” The hope in her voice had almost disappeared. He didn't answer. He couldn't even meet her eyes.

“You told her?”

He squeezed her hand. “Merce, I had to. But she thinks it was me that did him in and we got to keep it that way. She's got too much to lose if it's her own husband.”

They could hear footsteps approaching. “I'll do whatever it takes, Callum, even if it does feel like a deal with the devil. As long as I know she's under your roof.”

Judith walked in. “Hello, Mercedes. How are you?”

“I'm okay,” she answered timidly.

“Callum told me what happened - the truth this time. I am sorry for all you've gone through.” Judith raised her arm, palm outstretched, towards Callum. Puzzled, he took her hand. She continued in the same cold, formal tone. “Your brother wants to adopt the baby. I'm willing to comply but you must agree to several provisions.”

Mercedes nodded.

Judith let go of Callum's hand. “I'll come straight to the point.”

And she did, issuing conditions and ultimatums. There would be no negotiating: it was an all-or-nothing deal.

“Always remember,” she said finally. “I know the facts now.

If the truth ever came out, if people ever knew what the two of you did that night, it would destroy your brother.” Judith levelled her gaze on Mercedes. “You wouldn't want that, would you? Especially after all my husband and I have done for you.”

She took her leather gloves from her pocket. “One more thing.

I'll be leaving a letter with my father's attorney and one with my sister outlining everything that happened to Paddy Griffin.” She paused. “And to your father.”

Mercedes shrank down into the blankets.

“They'll be instructed what to do should my daughter ever discover who gave birth to her, even after I'm dead. When I say she will never know, I do mean never.”

Judith leaned in close to Mercedes. Her words, when they came, were spoken slowly, each syllable clearly articulated. “She will never be your daughter. For your brother's sake, and hers, don't ever forget that.”

Callum looked at this woman who was his wife, who would be the mother to Mercedes' only child. And he looked at Mercedes, who had done nothing wrong in her sixteen years but who was at the mercy of that same woman. They both were, he realized. They could never go back now. Judith knew too much. If she ever thought it necessary, if she ever felt threatened, she would not hesitate to ruin both of them. Then who would take care of Mercedes' baby?

That's when he understood. There was no true justice in the world. There was no fair play and certainly no rewards for the likes of him and his sister. Judith would never mellow. No amount of time would ease her barren bitterness.

Callum decided then and there that safeguarding his family was the only thing left to him worth doing. No matter the cost, he would protect Mercedes and her baby.

Mercedes agreed to live by Judith's conditions. In the end, it was a simple decision. She had no choice.

16

Despite everything that had happened to her, Mercedes recovered quickly. And although she would have been happy to stay with the Sisters forever, once she'd completed high school Sister Ignatius told her it was time to go forward with her life. With Callum's encouragement, she moved to Nova Scotia and became a teacher.

Mercedes was not looking for a husband. In her mind, she was as happy as she could rightly expect to be, teaching and studying. Louis Cunningham convinced her otherwise. After all, he said, he was willing to forgo his family's dreams and give up the priesthood. What bigger sacrifice could he make to prove his devotion, his commitment to her? Mercedes, encouraged by Callum yet again, dared to believe him.

In the doctor's office, with Louis by her side, Mercedes received the results of her blood test. She had venereal disease.

It was a shock, of course. At first. But as the doctor continued, his voice bristling with contempt as he discussed causes and symptoms and treatment, Mercedes remembered the recurring rashes, the fatigue, the headaches. She'd ignored them all. Eventually they'd gone away.

When she managed to find her voice again, she tried to explain. Louis Cunningham would not listen. He could barely stay in the room as she told him about the rape. He wouldn't let her finish before he marched out the door. There was no sympathy, no forgiveness, no absolution.

Eventually, Louis became the priest his mother had always wanted him to be.

Mercedes' sole concern was for her daughter. She immediately contacted Sister Ignatius who tried to reassure her that, because of the Caesarean, there was less likelihood that Lucinda would have been infected. Mercedes insisted that Callum follow up with a trip to the doctor. Lucinda was fine.

At the end of that school year, Mercedes returned to St.

Jude. It wasn't fondness for the town that brought her back.

St. Jude held little appeal beyond familiarity, but at least she knew the demons that would confront her there.

She was hired by the local school board and quickly established herself as a dedicated professional. Her no-nonsense approach ensured her a position of respect within the religious-based education system. She became known as the town spinster. The title pleased her. She had no desire to laugh or be silly, no inclination to amuse herself making girlfriends.

Or boyfriends. She had concluded that neither the pain nor the memories would disappear, that time would not heal some wounds, and that she was stuck with her history and the consequences of it. No decent man would ever want her, and she would need no man.