Why had I agreed to marry him? Because I was tainted goods, that’s why. What other man would want me? Robert may not have been a match made in Heaven, but I didn’t deserve more. How could God forgive me? How could I forgive myself?
The Lord’s Prayer whispered in my head. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Clarity splashed across my chest. The key to my shackles meant forgiveness. If I was ever to be free of Robert Westlaw, I had to release my emotions and choose to pardon his actions. All of them—his not really wanting the baby, his getting Marisol pregnant and abusing countless other victimized girls, his deceptive lies, secret life, and crooked manipulations. Only then could I have power to thwart his effects on me so my soul could reach out and grasp God’s forgiveness. But how? I didn’t have the confidence or the strength to try.
A soft weight pressed upon my shoulder. “You crying, lass?”
Without rising, I shook my head back and forth. “No. Praying.”
The hand let go. “Ah.” Spud cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, leave ya be.”
His soft old-man shuffle sounded on the floorboards. For the first time in decades, I prayed without me doing the talking. I closed my eyes and let whatever God wanted to say seep into my conscience.
* * *
The door creaked open and Mac clomped into the room. From his wrists dangled three grocery sacks. He plopped them onto the table and began to reveal their contents. Bread, cheese, luncheon meat, lettuce, and apples illuminated in the dingy light streaming through the window. “Went to the deli. Not sure if I had enough for a caff meal for us three.”
Caff meal? Did he mean cafeteria? I decided not to ask.
“You pawned the cross then?” Spud picked up an apple and polished it on his sleeve.
Mac shrugged. “Nah.” He dug into his pocket, and tossed it in my direction. “It seemed sacrilegious or something. I called in a few favors now, didn’t I?”
I grabbed the chain when it landed next to me on the sofa. My gold cross dangled at the end, casting twinkles of light on the peeling wallpaper. Tears dripped down my cheek. The emotions caught in my throat as I squeaked, “Thank you.”
Mac came over, took it from me and placed it around my neck. He whisked my hair aside and closed the clasp. His warm breath on my skin made the goose bumps rise as the familiar weight of the cross slumped against my breastplate.
His hands landed gently on my shoulders. “There. Back where it belongs. Now, for lunch.” But another long second lingered before he released his touch, causing a tingle to surge through me. I held my breath to mask it.
Our host cleared his throat. “Got a tiddler of chocolate cake for an afters.”
Spud rubbed his hands together. “Then quit the dallying. Let’s eat.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He slipped it into the apple and handed me a wedge. I smiled back. I’d wondered how he’d manage to eat it with all those teeth missing. It kept me from thinking about the germs crawling on the blade.
Over the bounty, for which I insisted on thanking the Lord for providing, the three of us brainstormed a plan.
“You both know where to find Niamh. You’re sure?”
The two men shot each other sheepish, testosterone-filled smirks. Their reply came in unison. “Yeah.”
Mac coughed into his fist. “Okay. How do we get her to talk to us?”
Spud’s eyes narrowed into a wise, old-sage expression. “Buy her time. Her ponce won’t be any the wiser about what happens behind closed doors.”
My stomach did a half-flip. “Is that the only way?”
Mac shrugged. Spud cocked his head. “It’s the best idea, lass.”
I sucked in a deep sigh. “Which of you gents wants the honor?”
Mac grinned until his lips stretched to his earlobes.
Spud pumped his hands up and down. “Okay. It makes sense. You’re younger.” He bobbed his head in my direction. “If the lass here asked for a few hours of her time, well, it would appear bloody dodgy now, wouldn’t it? And the girl might turn down an old erk like me.”
Spud reached in his pocket. “With the cash we have left from your husband, we can clean Mac up, you see. But, we’ll need money for her favors. Then, before he shags her, or after if you insist, Mac…” He shot a gaze to his friend.
Mac winked.
I widened my eyes.
Spud wiggled in his chair. “Well, it wouldn’t be fair not to…never mind.”
My cheeks flamed as my nostrils flared. I slammed both fists onto the table. “This isn’t about fair. It’s about saving a girl trapped in slavery.” I snapped my fingers in front of Mac’s face to bring him out of dreamland. “You do realize the purpose is for me to sneak in. I am the one really buying her time.”
Mac’s smile melted into a scowl. “Well. Depends on how long you plan to take. There might be enough ticks left on the stop watch for a jolly or two first.”
Bile from the luncheon meat rose to my tonsils. I balled my fist and pressed it to the table to keep from slapping his face.
He shriveled under my stare. “I mean, a man has to ask now, doesn’t he?”
Spud eased himself from the chair. “Apparently not.”
Mac shrugged. “Okay. I’ll just be the bait, then.” He tugged on his sweat-stained shirt. “But I’ll need better duds. And a proper haircut, won’t I?” He slid a hand through his golden locks.
I gave Mac a sly smile. “At least it’s one thing we agree on.”
His gaze narrowed. The tension between us became as thick as condensed soup.
Spud dug into his pockets. “I’ve only got three quid and a fiver.”
“Okay. So we pawn this after all.” I reached behind my neck to unclasp the cross.
Mac shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, lass. I have enough.” He strode to the cupboard, opened it, and brought back a bowl and a canister of Quaker oats. With two shakes, the dry cereal revealed a tight roll of bills and a plastic bag filled with coins. “About two hundred pounds. This ought to do it.”
I picked up the stash. “What were you saving this for?”
Mac eyed me, and then the table. “You don’t want to know.”
“Right.” I scooted my chair away, and rose to peer out the grimy window. He may be good looking, but he had the manners of an alley cat. The room suddenly became stifling.
* * *
I curled up on the sofa after Mac left to buy clothes from the thrift store and visit the barber. Sounds of children laughing, the swoosh of tires, and other village day-to-day din lulled me until a shadow slid across my eyelids. I lifted one of them to observe Spud slide down into the kitchen chair. He crossed his geriatric legs onto the table. Within a few minutes soft snorts told me he’d fallen asleep. The white noise of his rhythmic breaths led me to dreamland as well until a rattle of a key in a lock jerked me out of it.
I rubbed my eyes and scooted to a sitting position. The aftershave tickled my nose before my vision adjusted to the transformed Mac.
Spud whistled.
Mac blushed.
I laughed.
“Back home they’d say you cleaned up real nice.” I lathered on my Texas drawl for effect.
Mac strutted around the room as the new rooster in the hen house. Spud clapped. “Good job. You might even be mistaken for a proper toff.”
Mac swept an imaginary top hat from his head and lowered into a bow. I had to say a decent haircut transformed him, and the clothes set off his shoulders and back muscles. How old he was? Maybe mid-thirties? It made me wonder how he’d fallen onto hard times. Divorce? Was he a displaced veteran? Downsized from a job in a tough economy?
As if to read my mind he sat next to me. “There was a time not so long ago I looked like this as the norm. But, between being discharged from the regiment and the lousy economy, well…” He stared at the wall and yet didn’t.
I touched his arm. “I understand. It’s happening to lots of people.”
His cheeks colored, so to allow him to save face, I ended with a horrid imitation of a British accent. “Bloody shame now, isn’t it?”
Both men’s expressions widened into a laugh.
Mac slapped his thigh. “How about some more cake?”
“Only if you promise not to smudge your new shirt with the crumbs.” I waggled my finger at him. “I am not doing your laundry.”
He waved the kitchen knife at me. A few chocolate slivers sailed from it. “Aw, go on with you.”
Spud rubbed his hands together as Mac set a chunk of dessert in front of him. I slipped into one of the other chairs and waited for my share. Mac balanced two plates on his arm, handed me one and then sat down as he placed the other on the table. We took our time and savored the treat with frequent “mmms” and smiles. It is amazing how chocolate and sugar can bond strangers.
The sun’s shadows began to crawl across the well-worn rug. Mac squinted out the window as a tower clock in the distance bonged six times. “Well, my guess is we have about three hours to kill. Fancy a flick?”
I darted a glance to Spud. “Would that be safe?”
Spud chuckled. “I doubt your husband gave orders to search for ya in a movie house.” He scratched his chin. “Dark, in a crowd. Anonymous. Sure, it’ll work. Mind if I clean up a bit first, though?”
Mac reached across the table and punched him in the arm. “If ya didn’t volunteer, I’d insisted.”
Spud’s cheeks crimsoned underneath his scraggy white beard.
Mac turned to me. “Why don’t you and I step outside while Spud tries to transform into a human. I doubt he wants an audience.” He opened the door for me with a bow. “Madame.”
“Monsieur.” I curtsied and skipped out into the darkened hallway. As the door clicked, I sensed his gaze linger on me. I swung to meet his eyes.
He smiled as he slipped an arm around my waist. “There’s a place close by we can get to know each other a bit better, if you’d prefer to pass the time somewhere else than this hallway.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I tried to stop the shiver, but it shook all the way down to my knees. He pulled away.
“I’m sorry, Mac. It’s not you. It’s just that, well, I’m in love with another man.”
He scuffed the floor with his shoe. “Yeah. Figures.”
My chest tightened. I swallowed. “I...I didn’t mean to flirt. I thought we were clowning around. Spud, too.”
He shoved his fists deep into his pockets and trudged down the hall. He called back, “Come on, then. There is one more errand we need to run.”
We walked in unison, but neither of us said a word. He led me down two streets and across another. Above the chimneys, clouds blushed from the setting sun’s touch. Then, like minutes after a kiss, the swirls of pinks and oranges grew dimmer against a violet sky.
While I gazed into the heavens, Mac kept an eye on our surroundings and the people. “Just stroll along natural like. Not too slow or too fast.” He slipped my hand into the crux of his arm.
When we got to an alley, he motioned me to stop. “We’ll go through the third door on the left.”
“Why are we going in the back way?”
“I’ve been thinking. If your husband’s men are looking for you they may figure you’d need a change of clothes…or perhaps shoes.” He glanced at my waders. “They might be watching the front.”
That made sense. Still, his previous gesture perked my awareness. I was relieved to see “White Hare Haberdashery - Donations and Deliveries Only” on the door. I hoped it didn’t imply I’d tumble into Wonderland. “Do they serve tea and mushrooms here?”
Mac turned the knob. “Huh? Oh, yes. Like Alice and the Queen of Hearts. Got it.”
The man obviously had intelligence. He edged up a notch in my estimation. It must have shown in my expression because his eyes twinkled when he glanced back at me.
“Actually. It’s a thrift shop. Figured you might need different threads. Something they wouldn’t expect you to be wearing.”
“Well Spud told them I was wandering the woods in my nightie.”
That image made him raise an eyebrow.
I chose to ignore it. “Of course, Andrew might thumb through the armoire to determine what, if any, clothes I’d taken with me. And, he’d probably told Robert. That is if they’d taken inventory... I mean he may not know what his sister left behind and…”
Mac’s eyes glazed over.
I stopped, realizing I rambled. “Sorry, thinking out loud. Good plan, Mac. Let’s go.”
His lips angled to one side. “Go hide in the dressing room to the right. That way, if anyone asks, the proprietor can’t identify you. I’ll pull some choices and bring them to you.” He scanned me from head to toe—again. “You’re more on the small size, right?”
I cocked my eyebrow. “Man of the world, eh?”
His eyes dashed to the floor. “I grew up with sisters, so…”
I gave him an incredulous look as I slid into the cubicle halfway down a short hall and pulled the curtain.
I heard Mac’s sugary cockney. “I’m back, luv. I need clothes for me sister. Or she won’t cook me dinner. Ha, ha.”
A lady’s voice filtered to my ears, her words too indistinct for me to understand.
Mac responded. “Uh. She’s in the dressing room. Shy, you know. Um, she’s about this big.”
My mind imagined his hand gestures. A few minutes later a “psst” sounded outside the dressing room. His hand shoved through two hangers of clothes and a pair of tennis shoes, dangling by their knotted strings.
“Thanks.” I kept my voice low. “I’ll only be a minute.”
His scoff came through the closed curtain loud and clear. “Take your time, sis. I’ll be back out there twiddlin’ me toes.”
Mac not only had a fair sense of taste, he must have some knowledge of women’s sizes and fashion after all. The jeans, though a smidgen too long, fit in the waist. The lavender cable knit sweater hung nicely. Pink and lavender argyle socks made a pleasant accessory. Warm, too. The shoes? I tried not to think about whose feet had been in them before mine. They were close to my size.
I stepped out of the dressing room and cleared my throat. Mac spun around and his eyes grew to saucers.
I cast my eyes down and smoothed the sweater over my hips.
“Very nice, Jen. Very nice, indeed.”
I raised my face to see his eyes glisten in the dim light. Somehow his approval meant something to me. I tried to overlook that fact.
He broke his stare with two short coughs. “I’ll go settle up.”
* * *
When we returned, Spud had transformed into all spit and polish. He’d shaved and washed his hair. His clothes even appeared less disheveled. He whistled upon noticing me. “My, now don’t you look rather sharp.”
Mac held out a bag. “And so will you, my friend. See what the three quid I stole from your pocket bought ya.”
Spud’s expression reversed the aging process on his face. He clapped like a four year-old and grabbed the bag. He pulled out a pin-striped shirt in cream and navy. He hopped into the bathroom and closed the door. Whistling commenced from within.
I shook my head. “And you men chide us for our obsession with clothes.”
Mac thrust his hands into the sides of his trousers. “Only to cover up for our gawkin’ when we see ya in them.”
The endorphins sparked between us. My cheeks warmed. He noticed. He took two steps towards me, but stopped as Spud swung open the bathroom door with a, “Ta-dah.”
Our attentions averted from each other to him. I clapped. “Every woman is going to be jealous of me having two such distinguished—what did you call it? Toffs?—by my side.”
Spud scoffed. Mac’s deep blue eyes twinkled even brighter. Drat, why had I encouraged him? I bit the side of my lip and proceeded to the door. Shuffling feet sounded as both men grabbed for the doorknob.
I slid through the opening without a word and traip
sed down the hall, well aware two sets of male eyes were planted on my backside. I wondered if they both wished I was more like the other Niamh. I tried not to swish my hips as I walked.
* * *
The movie was typical dry British Humor, much of which I didn’t catch. Mac and Spud guffawed through the whole thing. Twice, Mac’s arm slid around the back of my theatre chair. The first time I leaned forward. The second time, not as much. His hand slipped to my shoulder as he inched closer. A twittering inside of me warned me to move away, but the scent of his aftershave and maleness enticed me.
A little voice screamed into my mind. What are you doing? I didn’t know him from Adam, except he appeared to be a bum with no job or future…with wheat-colored hair that curled over his collar and deep, blue eyes luring me into their spell. I excused myself to the ladies where I perched on the porcelain and gave my hormones a good scolding.
After the movie ended, Spud suggested we grab another bite to eat. He first needed the loo, which gave me the opportunity to talk with Mac.
He leaned against the wall with one leg crossed over the other, and beckoned me towards him. I shook my head.
“Mac. I don’t want to send the wrong signals.”
He pushed away from the wall. People crowded around us, their chattering making it hard to hear each other. He whispered in my ear, his breath hot on my neck. “It seemed right to me.”
“I know. Timing stinks, that’s all.”
“We only have today, luv.” His voice grew huskier.
I stared into his blue eyes and metered my words. “Mac, I am not Niamh.”
He blinked as if being released from a spell. “Of course you’re not. I’m sorry, I…”
“Forget it, okay. Hopefully in a few hours this will all be over with and you can go back to your life, and I to mine…whatever it is now. I have no clue.” The last sentence clung in my throat. I blinked away a tear.
Legitimate Lies Page 19