Foolish Temptations

by Danielle Stewart

  The schoolhouse was small. A two-story building with aged windows and loose bricks. It had been converted into some administration building for the town, but the remnants of a schoolyard were still all around. A playground with waist-high grass taking over. Metal picnic tables that were more rust than paint. With her sweet scone in hand, she sat beneath a large oak tree. It had carvings all around. Initials of kids who thought they were in love.

  She smiled and ran her hand over the marks. Who was she to say they weren’t? Love didn’t have an age requirement. It didn’t have to always make sense. But somehow more often than not, it ended in heartache. She nibbled her scone and flipped through the journal she’d taken along. This was Elsie’s friend, Mary-Louise Stone. She was a year behind Elsie in school but they did a few extracurricular activities together. Oddly there were no direct passages written about Elsie being pregnant or her death. But the absence of any mention was what made Maribel even more suspicious.

  Beneath the tree she tried to imagine what it would be like for Elsie here. One day you’re the queen of the school, the great hope of the town, and the next you’re a fallen angel. Her body was changing. Her life was altering in ways she couldn’t possibly understand. Maribel remembered the heady experience of being sixteen.

  A far-off rumble of thunder drew her eyes upward. She’d heard the term “a storm rolling in” before but she’d never seen it quite like this. The clouds, thick and stone gray, were charging toward her as though they were being pulled by a runaway train. She hadn’t thought about the forecast when she left the hotel this morning.

  Lightning zapped across the sky in the distance, and she hopped to her feet. This little sightseeing trip would have to wait. It was a twenty-minute walk back to the hotel, and she’d be soaked through if those clouds opened up. The old school building was locked up tight.

  There was, however, an address scrawled into the journal in her hand: 96 Arbor Lane. She’d passed it on her way to the school. Did Mary-Louise Stone still live there? Did she want her book back? Would she let a stranger in from the rain? Maribel was about to find out.

  Chapter 23

  Aden flipped through the stack of papers for the hundredth time. Something wasn’t adding up. Maribel had been right. The police had barely investigated yet couldn’t rule the cause of death. There was no note left behind by Elsie but no evidence Ian was involved either. The only thing that made him look guilty was the fact that he’d left. If the girl you love dies, and you didn’t have anything to do with it, why leave so fast?

  He checked to see Elsie’s time of death with the hope of then finding out when Ian had traveled. Did he just hop the next flight? The problem was there wasn’t an answer to either question. No time of death was listed for Elsie. No alibi or timeline for Ian’s departure. But there had to be something here. Something he could cobble together.

  Every time he paused, the question popped into his head. Why do you care? Why are you still looking? The honest answer was Maribel. If he could give her this, at least she had not come here in vain. She’d have something to show for herself back home. When he went quietly into that lonely dark night, back into his old haunts, she could shine at West Oil.

  Thunder rumbled outside, and he thought of how Maribel hated being so high up in the West Oil office building when a storm rolled through. Once he knew that, he’d always make sure he had some reason or another to send her to the lobby. It was their quiet understanding. Wherever she was right now, he hoped she wasn’t scared.

  His phone rang and Hugo’s number flashed across the screen. Maybe now was the right time to lay the groundwork for his departure. He could tell Hugo this whole trip had been a disaster, and it was his fault. Maribel had no choice in the matter.

  “I’ve got good news,” Hugo said in an out-of-character singsong voice. “We landed Universal Winston Engineering. We’ll onboard them when you get back.”

  “Ah, yeah about that.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with the beer and the rolling hills and you’re never coming back. I can’t do this without you. The guys over at UWE loved you. I swear that’s the biggest reason they signed on.”

  “I’m sure that’s not it.” Aden laughed and watched out the window as the impending storm rolled in. “I can make a mean Manhattan but my skills stop there.”

  “Not this again.” Hugo sighed. “How many months do you need to work here before you stop thinking you’re the Cinderella story? Bartender turned business mogul. This isn’t rags to riches and back to rags. You’ve earned your spot at West Oil. The hard way I might add. I gave you a chance, and you turned that into a career path.”

  “Some people aren’t destined for a career, Hugo. You’re the rising star. I think it’s great, but I can’t see the same path for me. You could get a lot further with someone else.”

  “You’re right about that.” His candor was shocking but also filled Aden with a sense of relief. At least the truth was out there now. No more pretending Aden was this savant plucked from obscurity. “I could grab some kid with his MBA and have him do all my grunt work. Maybe his parents have some long pedigree that shows well at dinner parties. He could use his connections as an alumnus from Yale to bring more talent to the table.”

  “I agree.”

  “You forget my roots, Aden. I’m the son of a politician. And a slimy one at that. There are fancy degrees and big bank accounts. But there is a commodity I trade in that I won’t compromise. Loyalty. Maybe I could get to the top faster with some guy named Chad who summers in Martha’s Vineyard with his mom and dad. But once I’m there I need to know the people who stand with me are there for the right reasons.”

  “And you think I am?” Aden rolled the building tension out of his neck. “You’re so sure I’m the guy you think I am?”

  “Shit’s going down out there, isn’t it?”

  The question lingered between them as Aden considered how much to say. “It is.”

  “And every time you have to make a decision what do you ask yourself?”

  Aden smiled. “How do I make sure I protect Junie?”

  “Right. But you’re just the bartender. You’re just the guy without a degree who drives a beat-up car and packs a lunch every day, even though by now he can afford to buy a damn sandwich at the deli down the road.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not. You are Director of Personnel Services at a billion-dollar company. You are not a bartender.”

  “But I could be again. It’s not outside the realm of possibility; if I blow it with you, my options will be as limited as they were before. The only difference would be I now know how good those sandwiches at the deli taste every day.”

  Hugo laughed. “Everyone tells you that failure is scary. No one ever mentions that success is terrifying too. I hear you, Aden, but I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Get your head out of your ass and stop treating this job like it’s an ice cube in the desert. You belong here. You’ve earned your spot. Deal with that. It’s reality.”

  “You’re so sure about that?”

  “Yes, and you know what? I have one of those fancy degrees, so by your logic I must know what I’m talking about. Aden, you’re good at your job. Now stop making me say nice shit to you. That’s what Maribel is for.”

  “Ha,” Aden chuckled. “She won’t be saying anything nice to me ever again. I might be good at my job, but the stuff with Maribel, I’m fucking that up royally.”

  “You need some sage advice on that too?”

  “You got some?”

  “Not really. Junie would tell you I’m the least qualified guy in the world to give relationship advice. Yesterday I asked if it was really a big deal if I put my socks in the hamper. I mean we’re swamped at work. We’re changing the damn world at this point. But apparently the socks on the bedroom floor are as important. The answer to the question is unequivocally yes. That’s about the only advice I can giv
e you. Put your socks in the hamper.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Hugo’s voice fell serious. “How bad is it over there? How worried do I need to be?”

  “Those are two very different questions. It’s pretty serious here. But you don’t have to worry at all. It’s contained.”

  “Hey, one more thing,” Hugo interjected. “You do make a damn good Manhattan.”

  Chapter 24

  The storm was a godsend. She never would have had the courage to knock on the door of the little cabin if the lightning wasn’t chasing her. Her hair was soaked and matted to her face and her shoes were filled with water. She must have looked like a drowned animal as she tapped lightly on the glass of the front door.

  Maribel noticed there were lights on and a car was parked in the driveway. It didn’t mean Mary-Louise still lived there. It didn’t mean whoever was there would let her in.

  When the lace curtain pulled to the side Maribel drew in a deep breath. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. I got caught in this storm.” She gestured to the sky and on cue a crack of thunder boomed. I’m too far from my hotel to make it back.”

  A tall woman with silky gray curls opened the door. “You’re American?”

  “Yes. I’m here visiting for the week. I should have checked the weather.” Maribel stepped into the small cottage and tried to wipe her hair off her face.

  “Let me get you a towel.” The woman walked away and reappeared a moment later with a large blue towel that Maribel gladly took.

  “Thank you so much. My name is Maribel.”

  “I’m Mary.” She tipped her head and gestured toward the couch in the living room. “Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a hot tea?”

  “I hate to impose, but I could use something warm.”

  “Yes, you’re soaked through. What brings you all the way out here? You must be staying in town.” Mary spoke over her shoulder as she worked her way through the adjoining kitchenette area and boiled some water.

  “I am. I’m staying at the Garden Pavilion Inn. I’m here for work. But I took a walk to be a tourist for the day. This place is beautiful, and I had something I wanted to return to this address.”

  Maribel fished the journal out of her bag. “I don’t know if you’re the same Mary, but I found this at the bookshop and thought it must have gotten there by accident.”

  “Oh my word,” Mary plopped the tea kettle onto the stove and hustled over to Maribel. “I haven’t seen this in ages.”

  “I figured you may want it back. I wasn’t sure how something so special could end up at the bookstore to begin with.”

  “My mother donated a bunch of my books when I went off to college ages ago. I didn’t know it was missing for a long time, and then I figured it was gone for good. I forgot about it.” She took a seat on the couch and opened the leather journal. “Oh my gosh, I can’t imagine what I was writing about. I was a school girl.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but before I thought to try returning it, I did read a bit of it. I’m enamored with this beautiful place, and it never dawned on me that the owner might still be here.”

  “I understand completely. I’ll be honest, if I was in a new place and found something like this I’d read it too. Though I have to apologize that there wasn’t much of anything of interest in it. My life was quite boring. Looking back there were plenty of times I’ve wished my life was that boring again.” She ran her fingers across the lines and her thin lips turned up into a smile.

  “You mention Elsie Cavanaugh in there.” Maribel watched closely for a flinch or a reaction. It was subtle, but it was there. A tiny twitch of a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m sure I do. We ran in the same circles for a little while.”

  “But you didn’t talk about what happened to her.” The ice beneath her feet was thin and could crack at any moment. Maribel had to risk it anyway. She had to know.

  “How do you know what happened to her?”

  “I’ll be honest, I don’t. I have heard what people around town seem to think, but I’m not sure if it’s the truth.”

  “I asked the wrong question,” Mary said, pursing her lips. “I should have asked why you want to know what happened to Elsie.”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Hmm,” she hummed looking unimpressed. “I don’t know we’ll have much to say then.” The tea kettle began to whistle, breaking the moment in half.

  “I’m not trying to be difficult. I know this is coming out of nowhere. Dredging up the past can’t be easy. But I promise I have a good reason for doing it.”

  “But you can’t tell me what it is?” She filled two teacups and dropped a cube of sugar in each. Maribel took it as a good sign she hadn’t been kicked out. Not yet anyway.

  She took the tea and didn’t answer the question. “I’m wondering why you didn’t write more about Elsie in your journal. You must have had some feelings associated with her death. But you brush right over it all.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Mary sipped her tea and looked at the journal. “My mother would read it. I knew she did on occasion, but after something like that happens to your friend, obviously a mother would worry more. And in worrying, I knew she would want to read what I was writing. It was only natural.”

  “Sure, I can understand that. But you didn’t want your mother to know what you were feeling about Elsie’s death? Did you think she wouldn’t understand?”

  “I can’t remember what I thought back then. It was ages ago.”

  Maribel sipped her own tea to keep the bubbling pressure from taking over. “Could you try?”

  “I’m really not comfortable with this.” Mary stiffened her back and shook her head. “You have to tell me why you’re here.”

  “I can’t. People I love could be hurt if I were to tell you that.”

  “People I loved would be hurt if I told you the truth.”

  “She took the pills herself?” Maribel’s voice was quiet, challenged only by the small ticking clock on the wall. “Ian didn’t hurt her, and you know that, don’t you?”

  “Do you know what a town like this would do if the girl they adored ever showed her true colors? If they discovered she was flawed, so deeply flawed; they’d be crushed. The pressure was unimaginable. Unlike most girls my age, I did not envy her.”

  “Did you know she was thinking of ending her life?” The question was a leap, a risk Maribel knew might get her booted out into the rain.

  “There is something you should understand, Maribel. We collectively in this town are people of faith. And in that faith there is a belief that ending one’s own life is a great sin. Perhaps one of the greatest there is in the eyes of the people of Gallamare.”

  “But an accusation of murder by a boy is acceptable?”

  “Acceptable is all relative.” She blinked back a few tears. “Elsie’s parents moved from this place only three weeks after she died. Their hearts were broken, and they were afraid if they stayed too long, someone would eventually ask questions they did not want answered. I never fancied myself a smart girl, but I knew enough to keep my feelings out of that book. Just in case.”

  “I understand.” Maribel drew in a deep breath. That thin ice she was standing on continued to crack. “But what about Ian? Didn’t you know him? Didn’t you care about him?”

  “Like a brother.” She placed her teacup down on the table by the couch and fidgeted with her nervous hands.

  “It looked very suspicious that he left so suddenly.”

  “I can’t give you what you came here for.” Mary stood and pressed the wrinkles out of her skirt, smoothing them with her hands. “It won’t be me. I knew better when I was fourteen years old, and I’m not going to go back on that now.”

  “Don’t you think the people would understand? Don’t you think they’d want the truth after all this time?”

  “They still go down there every year on her birthday. Around town when someone gets sick, they still comment how nice it would
be if Elsie were here to take care of them. They still wonder what she would have been like as a doctor.”

  “Is there anything at all you can tell me?”

  Mary thought on it as she walked toward the front door. “Ian and Elsie were in love. Real love. I was a child, and for a while I thought maybe I romanticized it. Maybe I put this Shakespearean spin on it. But now as I’ve gotten older and fallen in and out of my own love stories, I know what they had was real. Ian was a boy no one really loved. Elsie was a girl too many people loved. He was trauma. She was tranquility. He was going nowhere, and she was a life of possibilities. It should have made them a terrible pair. Instead it was two sides of a scale—perfectly balanced as long as they were both on it.”

  “People here didn’t think so though?”

  “Not many people knew they were dating until she got pregnant. It was a different time then. Shock was rampant in town and a rumor started.”

  “What rumor?”

  “There were whispers that Elsie hadn’t wanted to sleep with Ian. That he had forced the situation, and that enraged people. He’d gotten beaten up quite a few times about it, even though Elsie was adamant she and Ian were in love.”

  “Do you think that’s why he left? He was afraid what would happen to him once people knew she was gone? Of course he’d be blamed. They might have killed him.”

  “No.” Mary shook her head. “Ian wasn’t afraid of them. He wouldn’t run away from a fight, not to protect himself. Without Elsie he wouldn’t have cared what happened to him.”

  “I don’t understand. Then why did he leave?”

  “It’s not why; you’re asking the wrong question. It’s when.” Mary pulled open the door and rain fluttered in. The storm outside was still raging, but Maribel knew it was time to go.

  “Thank you for bringing my journal back. I have so little from that time in my life.” Mary offered an umbrella from the stand by the door, but Maribel waved her off. She had resigned herself to running home in the rain. A good soaking was needed.