The Saint

by Molly O'Keefe

  “Well, it won’t be because of your mother, or your past, either,” I said.

  Carter was quiet for a second, taking a long time to chew, and I wondered if I’d said something wrong. “What about your mother?” he asked.

  “Oh, well, trust me, if she had her way, we would never have started this. So, yes. In the end, she might be the straw that breaks your back.” I tried to laugh, but found I couldn’t. It was true. More true than I cared to admit.

  “Mom’s…ah…well, it’s been the two of us our whole lives, and she’s got some strong opinions on being a single mom and having relationships.”

  “So I’m not going to be meeting her anytime soon?”

  “Not for as long as I can help it.”

  “Come on, in the battle of the mothers you’re telling me yours is worse than mine?”

  “My mom has this saying that she’s been drilling into my head since I was a kid—”

  “Eat your vegetables?”

  I snorted. “I wish. No, she says, only pain is guaranteed.”

  “That’s funny. My mother always said that trust is only rewarded with pain.” Carter shrugged. “Maybe in the worst mother competition it’s a tie.”

  “No, yours wins. Hands-down. Penny is a pain, but she stuck around,” I whispered.

  I kissed his hand and felt such warmth. Such lightness of being I could barely keep still.

  “I know that we don’t know everything about each other,” I said, because I just could not shut up. “I have secrets, and from the conversation you had with your sister, I’m guessing you have some of your own.”

  “And?” he asked, but surprisingly the Carter O’Neill mask of displeasure didn’t appear and it gave me courage to go on.

  “And, if you want, you could tell me,” I said.

  “My secrets?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Whatever it is your mom’s got on you. Or—” I shrugged “—not. Either way, I just want you to know that I’ll listen.” He was quiet for a long time and I glanced up at him.

  “I’ve never had friends,” he said, shaking his head. “Growing up, I had only my brother and sister, and when I left Bonne Terre, I left them behind.”

  I swallowed a mouthful of cookie, the loneliness around him like a fog.

  “I’ll be your friend,” I whispered.

  “You already are,” he said. The stool grated across the tile floor as he stood and approached me, his every muscle coiled and flexing in the moonlight. “And I’ll tell you a secret, Zoe. Not all of them, but I’ll tell you one right now.”

  His hands cupped my face and slowly slid down my neck, over my breasts, suddenly hot and heavy with a desire I thought had been satisfied. My nipples hardened and I sighed with pleasure as his hands curved over the taut swell of my belly, feeling every contour of the sleeping baby inside.

  “What’s…ah…your secret?” I asked, my train of thought totally derailed.

  “I didn’t know this about myself,” he said. “But I think I’m hot for pregnant women.”

  “We’ll have to keep you away from Lamaze classes,” I said, and the heat between us dissipated as we both laughed so hard we had to lean against each other.

  “Zoe,” he said. “This is really strange, but I’m so glad you stood up on that chair.”

  I leaned back, surprised and touched. Warmth filled me like sunshine on a hot day. “Me, too,” I whispered. “Me, too.”

  The phone on the counter buzzed with an e-mail, ruining the mood, and I sat back, trying not to be irritated because he had warned me that he didn’t turn the phone off for anyone.

  But honestly, it was the middle of the night and I was naked.

  Without batting an eye, Carter just reached over and held down the power button.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Turning it off. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.”

  Well, I thought, letting him pull me from my chair and lead me back into the lush shadows of the bedroom—as far as tokens of his affection, that one was hard to beat.

  CARTER

  * * *

  It was Thanksgiving and I had spent most of the day working from home, starting some campaign financing initiatives and looking over staff résumés that Amanda had forwarded me. I had the football game going on the TV in the corner, but by three o’clock I was done pretending that I wanted to work. Or even needed to.

  The press conference yesterday had gone off without a hitch and already I’d gotten several calls of support. Eric Lafayette had come by the office with a giant check.

  “We need more men like you working for this city,” he’d said, and my belief in myself, in the good I could do for Baton Rouge, had skyrocketed. All those second thoughts brought on by my mother were gone.

  Hell, even Blackwell was leaving me alone.

  But now it was Thanksgiving Day, and there was nothing that needed to be done. I had a fridge full of Thanksgiving Day food but no one to share it with. I checked my watch—driving down to Bonne Terre now would get me there far too late for dinner, and besides, I didn’t really want to see my family.

  I wanted to see Zoe.

  Zoe in the moonlight. Zoe laughing so hard salsa splattered out of her mouth. Zoe curled up beside me, the weight of that baby pressed against my hip.

  Operating on instinct I packed up all the food, including the remaining sugar pie, and left my house. Zoe was going to be thrilled to see me, or maybe she’d be thrilled to see the sugar pie, but either way, this was the way I wanted to spend Thanksgiving.

  In her gypsy camp.

  My car lights flashed and the horn honked when I pressed the unlock button on my key ring.

  “Hi, Carter,” someone whispered, and I jumped out of my skin.

  “Who—?”

  My mother stepped out of the shadows beside my garage.

  15

  “Christ, Mom, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” I said.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, lingering in the hazy place between shadow and late-afternoon sunlight.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long. I was about to go up and knock on your door.”

  “You okay?” I noticed that her lip was swollen and she held her hand against her chest as if it hurt. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” she said, her smile quick and painful looking. “Nothing you need to worry about. I saw you on TV. Mayor, huh?”

  “That’s the plan,” I said on a gust of breath. I wasn’t impatient, I just didn’t understand why she was here.

  “Now that’s a con,” she said with a shake of her head. “Fundraising money alone would keep you in champagne—”

  “It’s not a con,” I said, angry that she saw everything within those parameters. “I think I could do some good. I’m not sure you’re familiar with the concept.”

  Her eyes were shadowed and the smile fled her face. Her lip looked painful, and I leaned closer to see her, but she backed farther into the shadows.

  “What happened to your lip—”

  “I’m fine. Trust me. I’ve had worse.”

  The silence dripped and simmered between us.

  “How’s work—” I said, just as she said, “So, it’s Thanksgiving.”

  We laughed awkwardly.

  “Work’s…ah…fine. Good. Doing real good,” she said. “Boss really likes me.”

  “That’s great,” I said, wondering if everything that came out of her mouth was a lie or just seemed like it.

  “So, it’s Thanksgiving,” Vanessa said. “You going to Bonne Terre?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s too late.”

  “You got a bunch of food,” she said, looking down at the bag and I suddenly realized that my mother wanted us to share the holiday.

  Like a regular family.

  My stomach churned with horror and pity.

  “I’m going to Zoe’s,” I said.

  “Ah, right. Girlfriend.” She smiled and I didn’t deny the titl
e, even though she clearly expected me to. “That’s nice.”

  “Mom…” Unbelievably, I felt bad. I didn’t understand how she did it, but I stood here feeling bad that the mother who’d deserted me years ago had no one to spend the holiday with.

  “Don’t worry, Carter. I understand. I’m not even sure why I came.”

  “I’d invite you, but she’s not even expecting me.”

  “Well, I’m not quite the mother you bring to meet the girlfriend.”

  I laughed, but she didn’t.

  “Mom, are you okay? I mean, your lip? Do you need…help?”

  “No. The last thing I need is help. I’m an O’Neill, remember? We take care of ourselves. I was just looking for company.”

  “Maybe…” I couldn’t believe it as the words came out of my mouth, but they did, even though I knew my sister would kill me. “Another time?”

  Her smile was brief, but it was the most sincere thing I’d ever seen on my mother’s face. I suddenly remembered that before she’d left me with Margot and never looked back, this was the woman who had taken me to the pool. Put me to bed at night. Kissed my knees when I fell down.

  The tenderness had been so easy to forget. I’d had to forget it, just to pull my family forward out of the abyss she’d dropped us into.

  She retreated back into the shadows and I opened my door, but then stopped. I had to tell her that this tie that bound us, this secret that had become a wall that separated me from every single thing I’d ever cared about, was about to be ripped away.

  “I’m going to tell her,” I said and I saw her turn, knowing immediately what I was talking about.

  “The alibi?” she asked, and I could hear the disbelief in her voice.

  I nodded.

  “You sure that’s smart? You have a lot at stake now.”

  I knew that, but I also knew that if I didn’t tell Zoe, I’d lose her. Maybe not now, but at some point I’d freeze her out again, because this secret was ice in my veins. “What if she’s spying?”

  “She isn’t. I know she isn’t.” End of discussion.

  “You know, trusting people, sometimes—”

  “You’re a little late for motherly advice.”

  “Okay,” she said, holding up her hands and I could see that two of her fingers were clearly broken. “Do what you have to do.”

  “Mom, what happened to your hand? This is crazy!”

  “It’s fine, Carter. Go to your girlfriend’s. Have a nice time.”

  “Here,” I said, reaching into the bag of food. “Take a sugar pie,” I said. “I think Katie made it.”

  For a second something crumbled in her. All the support beams holding her up buckled and I saw an unfathomable pain.

  “No thanks,” she breathed.

  And then she was gone.

  ZOE

  * * *

  “Mom, please, I am begging you to take the turkey out now!” I cried, leaning against the counters in my own kitchen—a kitchen in which I was currently a stranger. But that’s the way it was with Mom, she just took the space over. Made it hers.

  “Sure,” Penny said, emptying the potatoes I had just mashed into a chipped china bowl that had come back from Houston with me. “I could take it out now and poison everyone.”

  “It won’t actually poison us,” Ben said, usually so calm but getting a little anxious about his organic, free-range, very expensive bird. Ben didn’t know about Penny’s take-no-prisoners Thanksgiving process. “I brined it first and it takes much less time to cook.”

  “You don’t say?” Penny said, sprinkling cheese and green onions over the potatoes in a way that said she didn’t care if he’d carried this bird to term and delivered it fully cooked—it wasn’t coming out of the oven until Penny was ready.

  “Wow,” Ben breathed to Phillip, who only shrugged.

  “Luckily her stuffing and cranberry sauce is amazing, so we won’t starve,” Phillip whispered.

  The front door buzzed and I pressed the intercom.

  “Zoe?” Carter’s disembodied voice floated through the speaker. Carter. Carter was on the other side of that door.

  And my mother was on this side.

  “You didn’t tell me we were expecting someone else,” Penny said, arching one eyebrow.

  “We aren’t,” I said, taking a quick look over at Ben and Phillip. Ben shook his head no, but Phillip, who could almost always read my mind, was silently clapping.

  This can’t be happening.

  I pushed the button to let him in.

  A few moments later there was a light tapping on the door and I walked on numb feet to answer it. Having my mother and Carter in my apartment at the same time would be a Thanksgiving Day massacre.

  I opened the door a crack and wedged myself into the opening. Carter glittered in late-afternoon sunlight, all shiny and golden, the most handsome man who’d ever stood on my doorstep, and my body sighed with fond memories.

  “Hey,” I said, nearly panting from the sudden stress.

  “Hey, yourself!” He held up Savannah’s bag of food. “I brought Thanksgiving—”

  “Who is it, honey?” Penny yelled and I winced.

  “Oh.” Carter’s face fell. “You’ve got people over. Of course.”

  Oh, he was disappointed. I could see it on his face and it was the last thing I wanted. “Please, Carter, it’s not that I don’t want you here—” It’s that I can’t have you here.

  “Zoe? What are you doing?” The door was pulled out of my hand and I knew that I couldn’t avoid this. I could only hope that whatever Carter felt for me would survive Penny’s stubborn, protective love for me.

  “This is my mom, Penny,” I said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Carter said, sticking out his hand, the perfect gentleman. I wanted to tell him to run while he could, because mom was going to eat him alive.

  Penny shut right down, nothing but bricks behind her eyes.

  “Humph,” she said, looking him up and down as if he were roadkill before she walked away, yelling, “We don’t have enough food,” over her shoulder.

  I rested my head against the door, my eyes shut. “I want you to come in, but if you do, there’s a good chance that by the end of the night you’ll never want to see me again.” I lifted my head and looked him in the eye. “And I’m not exaggerating.”

  “I’m tough, Zoe. And what I feel for you is pretty tough, too.”

  Oh. Oh. Well, that was just the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me.

  He capped it off by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

  “Your mom doesn’t scare me. Much,” he whispered.

  “In that case, come on in.”

  I opened the door to my home and my family, and it all felt better with him here. Warmer, brighter, a better place to be, and I really hoped he was right about the strength of his feelings. Because they were about to take a beating.

  “I know I’m unexpected, but I come with food,” he said, swinging the bag of food up onto a clear patch of counter. “Including sugar pie—it’s sort of a family tradition.”

  “Oh, we know all about your family traditions, Carter O’Neill. I read the paper,” Penny said, her look poisonous.

  “Well you can’t believe everything you read, Ms. Madison, but I will admit we’re a colorful crowd. And damn good cooks, especially my sister. Please make use of whatever you can.”

  I had to admit, Carter was as smooth as a calm lake, and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. I tucked my arm in his and turned him toward warmer waters.

  “This is my friend Phillip and his partner, Ben—”

  “Ben Grovener?” Carter asked, shaking Ben’s hand. “I heard a rumor—”

  “That I had died?” Ben joked. “Well, you know what Twain said—the rumors were greatly exaggerated.”

  Carter laughed appreciatively before replying, “No, I heard that you were back at work. That’s fantastic.” His enthusiasm was sincere and it made me like him even more, as i
f that were possible. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was hit by a car, but every day is better than the last, so I can’t complain.” Ben poured Carter a glass of wine from one of the three bottles that Phillip had brought. “And you, running for mayor, that’s good news for this city.”

  “Well, I hope so,” Carter said, taking the glass. I shared a long look with Phillip.

  “We can double-date now,” Phillip whispered, and I smiled, happiness building up inside me like champagne bubbles.

  “I have some big plans,” Carter said, “some neighborhood initiatives and some ideas that I think would help us bring in more national conferences and tourism…” Carter trailed off and smiled, embarrassed, and I just wanted to curl him up and put him in my pocket, he was so sweet. “I’ve been alone working all day,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t quite shut up.”

  “Don’t shut up on my account,” Ben said. “The truth is…” He glanced back at Phillip, who only shrugged.

  “It’s your life, sweetie,” Phillip said. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

  “The truth is, I would love to hear more about your ideas in an official capacity,” Ben said.

  Carter’s eyebrows elevated. “If that’s you asking for a job, you’re hired. You’re a fighter, Ben, and I have admired your work for a long time. I know you’re active in the state building, but if you’re interested in city politics, I’d love to have you on my team.”

  Ben blinked and I rocked back while Phillip stroked Ben’s shoulder, the most colorful political wife the city had ever seen. “I’ll call on Monday,” Ben said. “We can talk more then.”

  “I look forward to it,” Carter said and took a sip of wine before turning to me.

  “Look at you,” I said, cupping my hands over his elbows and giving him a little shake and a squeeze. “Handing out jobs and sugar pie—you’re going to be a great mayor.”

  “Well, I’m not there yet,” he said, but I leaned in to kiss him anyway. Mayor or not, I was totally smitten. Those little seeds of attraction and affection were growing into some foreign flower, an exotic plant that felt a lot like love.