Fine-looking man, my Gerard. Them big brown eyes. And so tall, and right smart. Not like what followed on his heels, thick, green-eyed Griffins all. Not the brightest lot, even if they are half mine. Then again, other half's Angus, so what can you expect. Angus! That fucker! Yes, we are so still married, even if he's dead. Just because he took up with that French waiter in Montreal, don't mean nothing. I got the marriage license. Ah, who cares? Got what I wanted in the end. Best thing is, no one got a frigging clue.
Balanced perfectly upright on the chair, Sadie laces her fingers together and rotates her thumbs around and around each other in a continuous circle.
Oh yes, I can keep a secret. No one knows better than me how to hold the truth so far down it'll never see the light of day again. I got to laugh at that. Who'd question me? Goes without saying I'm a God-fearing woman, free and clear of bodily sins. Hah! Stunned as my arse, the lot of them.
Sadie lets her eyes almost close, and her mind sails back to another time, to the young priest she kept house for all those years ago. She moistens her mouth as she pictures him, so tall and handsome, much like young Father James, but better, with those nut-brown eyes that would smile shyly at her when she came in each morning to clean. His bedroom, she always started there, so she could catch the warm, musk smell of him before he'd been gone from the room for too long.
Some good, that.
Then there was the morning she arrived earlier than usual, using the key he gave her for when he had to go out of town.
She knew he'd returned early from his trip. Tiptoeing in she found him sleeping in his virgin bed. Damask-curtained windows shut out the morning and the rest of the world. She approached the bed. Her sure hands stole beneath the heavy bedclothes. Before long he rose up, almost as if in protest. The body does not lie, however, and his lay well with hers, melding so they became one under the thick cover of the darkened bedroom. Locked into her favourite memory, a moan escapes her lips, a tiny guttural sigh. She looks around to make sure she's still alone, then snuggles back into the past and her young priest once more, the frowzy scent of him reborn in her mind. She sees again his room where not a ray of light gained entry into their secret world. After that first time he'd wait every week, eyes shut tight, barely breathing in anticipation beneath the quilted bedclothes. Famished for it, he was always ready.
Seconds after she'd find him, his long sensuous fingers and fine strong hands would pull her onto him, onto his firm, muscled, young flesh.
Sadie sighs deeply, satisfied.
The whole town had missed the nice young priest when he'd up and transferred after only a year in the parish. Rumour had it he left the priesthood soon after.
Fool! Went off to Africa somewhere to join a mission or some such nonsense. Right after I give birth to Gerard, it was. Men! So stupid, every last one of them. Dumb as a sack of hammers. Of course, most women are too. Clueless. Dumb and stupid and clueless. Amazing. After all these years, still my little secret. Hah!
THE END
This novel has been a long time in the making, and a number of people have given me good advice and constructive criticism over the years, all of which has been greatly appreciated. I specifically want to thank the following: Cecelia Frey, Dixie Baum, Sue Hirst, Joan Beswick, Margo Embury.
A special thank-you to my editor, Ed Kavanagh.
And finally, to Donna Francis, I owe a special debt of gratitude, for her patience, perseverance and good humour, and for always being open to another draft.