Scarlett Sinner (The Scarletts

by Brenda Barrett

  Chelsea shook herself out of her ruminating and faced Erin, so angry that she didn't even acknowledge Keira.

  "You told Professor Gillings that I cheated, didn't you?"

  Erin grinned. "So what if I did? You are a pro at Statistics, everybody says so. It shouldn't have been a hardship for you to do the exam twice."

  Chelsea gritted her teeth. "Why are you like this? Why on earth do you resent me so much? What have I ever done to you?"

  "You live," Erin sneered, "you breathe. If you could take care of that then all would be well with my world."

  "But why?" Chelsea looked at her, bewildered. "I don't even know you that well."

  Erin snorted. "You behave as you are better than everybody else around here, you and your snooty friends. As if you are holier than everybody else. As if you know better than everyone else. Not all of us have rich parents and a handsome boyfriend."

  "Come on, Erin," Keira said quietly. "You are making a scene."

  "No, let her air her insecurities," Chelsea said smugly. "Feeling inferior to me, Erin?"

  Erin laughed. "Ha. You wish. Even with all of your privileges you still can't keep your boyfriend faithful. I heard that he is banging Joy Marie. I saw them kissing with my own two eyes. So you can stand there and act as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth but you don't have it all."

  She turned around and smirked. "And for your information, I don't feel inferior to you. I can get Troy Scarlett any time I want; he is not exactly exclusive, is he?"

  Chelsea raised an eyebrow. "Neither are you. Far from it—you have racked up quite a harem with the professors at this school, haven't you?"

  "Yup and so what? Men have been using women for ages; why not do the same?" Erin snickered. "If I were you, I would also study for another dose of Macro Economics. Another little birdie may have whispered to the professor that you had prior knowledge of some of the exam papers and he may have evidence."

  Chelsea gritted her teeth. She didn't put it past Erin to do just what she threatened; Professor Carlisle was another rumored lover of hers.

  "You evil, conniving..."

  Erin laughed. "Whatever. I don't care what you want to call me—water off a duck’s back and all of that. Would be interesting if you don't graduate this year, wouldn't it?"

  *****

  Chelsea snapped out of the memory, the same sharp feeling of hate thrumming through her veins. Erin was dead; there was no need for this feeling. But every time she thought about her it rubbed her the wrong way.

  It made her feel like smashing something. It made her upset.

  And now, five years later, she was finding out that Troy really had slept with Erin. The very thought was heart-wrenchingly sad. Every time she thought about it, how manipulative and deliberate Erin had been in her actions, she felt betrayed afresh.

  She slowly walked back home, feeling grateful for the gentle breeze that wafted off the sea because she was feeling feverish in her head. Hot burning anger licked itself across her mind.

  The automatic lights were on at the house. She walked through the back gate with a slouch to her shoulders. She wondered if Daisy had brought back Dahlia and hadn't found her.

  Then again, her thoughts about university had her so wiped out she wouldn't mind if she had the night to herself.

  Chapter Four

  Troy stood beside Chelsea's car uncertainly. He had been waiting for the past fifteen minutes. He glanced at his watch. It was quarter to seven. The party had long since been over. Marla and Yuri had gone home to Kingston.

  He left Dahlia with his parents for the night; she was currently being entertained by her Aunty Terri, who was telling her tales of her travels.

  He wanted to talk to Chelsea privately. He knew that would cause some problems when Chelsea heard, but he was prepared to face the wrath of his wife. They needed to talk, seriously talk, not descend into one of those accusatory shouting matches that they had been involved in for months now.

  He inhaled raggedly.

  That was going to take all the self-control he had because Chelsea had a way of snarling at him that just brought up his ire.

  He heard the back gate open and then close. He waited to hear her footsteps as they went up the walk and then he heard the back door open and saw the lights in the living room come on.

  He headed for the door and knocked. He knew where the spare key was but he didn't dare use it.

  "Coming." He heard Chelsea's feet as her slippers slapped the tiles all the way to the front door.

  She swung it open and realizing that it was him, her expression changed from polite to militant in moments.

  "What?" she barked. "Where is Dahlia?"

  "She's staying at my parents’ tonight," Troy said it as non-combatively as he could. "Chelsea, we need to talk. There are a couple of things I need to say..."

  Chelsea slammed the door in his face.

  He felt the wind from the door as it whooshed against his face. He could still hear the ringing in his ears.

  "Chelsea, seriously?" He pressed his mouth to the door. "We are acting like children, not adults."

  "I don't want to talk to you," was her muffled reply. "I am sorry that I ever got married to you. I am sorry that I allowed you to run my life until now. I am a washed-up housewife at twenty-six, with nothing to show for my life so far but an unfaithful husband and a bastard child."

  "I was never unfaithful to you." Troy hit the door in frustration. "We were not together when I had sex with Erin."

  "I don't want to hear about you and Erin. You pig!" Chelsea squealed in frustration. "I don't even want to think about it. Leave me alone, Troy Scarlett!"

  Troy leaned his head on the door; he had been hearing various versions of this for the past couple of months.

  "You were studying to be a minister and you slept with the easy campus girl. How was it for you, Troy? Did you enjoy running your fingers along her skin and whispering how much you loved her?"

  "For goodness’ sake, Chels. It was a one night stand. It wasn't even a night, more like ten minutes in the parking lot of the Business Center. And then I came to my senses.

  "I was angry at you for splitting us up. I was not thinking straight. I never meant for any of this to happen. Can't you just understand my side of the story for one minute? Just one minute."

  "No. Sinner. I cannot. And please don't call me irrational or volatile or any of the other words I heard you telling your family about me. You knew what you were doing with Erin. Maybe you always wanted to do it. Maybe you liked her reputation and thought, ‘Why not, she is easy, Chelsea conveniently gave me a way out. I may as well indulge my lusts on a woman I don't have to wait for.’

  "Someone who saw sex as nothing more than a physical act to satisfy an animalistic lust. You wanted Erin! Pig! And now you have her child. I wish for you a nice life with your son!"

  Troy slumped down at the doorway. Clearly time did not heal all wounds. He had this same conversation with Chelsea ten months ago, right before Pops' funeral. He hadn't even known that he was the boy's father then. And since then Chelsea had being preaching variations of the same thing.

  He squeezed the side of his head with the heels of his hand. He had to stop thinking about Todd as the boy and he had to find some way of getting through to Chelsea, but what could he do in the face of such a deep, wounding hurt?

  Chelsea was not even prepared to meet him a teeny bit of the way. He heard the determination in her voice when she said divorce. She would do it too. In the past she was always the first to suggest that they split up. Chelsea was not heavily into working things out. Do the unexpected and you are out--no mercy, just judgment, which was a mystery. Her parents were still happily married. It was not as if she was from a broken home. Chelsea did not get that most marriages, if not all, had some sort of obstacles to work out. Staying together was a conscious decision most couples had to make every day.

  He laughed without mirth, a dry-sounding puff of air, which felt suspiciously sob
like. He was losing everything. One night, nearly six years ago, had changed the course of his life.

  Maybe if he had confessed then he would not be going through this. He winced as he remembered how he had agonized about it then. Should he or shouldn't he tell Chelsea?

  He should have done it. God knows what would have been the outcome but at least they would have dealt with it then back then, before they were married, before they built their memories, before they had Dahlia. He could have saved himself a world of hurt.

  He rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was best that he left Chelsea alone for a while. He knew one thing for sure; he was not going to give up on their relationship, as she so easily wanted to. No way. Besides, when Chelsea calmed down she would come home. It was a given. This too will pass.

  He told her goodbye through the door. She didn't respond.

  *****

  Two weeks later Troy was wondering if he had not been a bit too idyllic in his thoughts. Chelsea had not returned home and he only saw his daughter sporadically, and only when he went to visit his family home. Chelsea sent her over with his mom; she did not even show her face. He was well and truly frozen out.

  He was sitting in the conference president’s office after fully disclosing what had happened. President Ballard had gone silent.

  "How is it going at home?" he asked after a long, drawn-out silence that was loaded with recriminations.

  The president didn't have to say what he was thinking, it was written all over him. He was probably calling Troy another sad pastoral statistic in his head.

  "Bad." Troy sighed. "Really bad."

  "And the child?"

  "I am going for him tomorrow," Troy said. "He is in foster care."

  It grated his last nerve that he had to be going through this question and answer session.

  "Oh." The president steepled his fingers. "And his mother?"

  "Erin died in an accident a year ago.

  "I am sorry to hear." Ballard tapped his fingers on his jaw rhythmically. "And she didn't leave any relatives behind?"

  "Yes, but they are not willing to take care of the boy, I mean Todd. That's his name. She had a relative, a grandmother I think, who was pushing for the father to be found."

  Ballard winced. "Have you done any STD tests since?"

  It was Troy's turn to cringe. He wished that he did not have to have this conversation with anyone. "Yes I have, before I got married. I am clean."

  "You have to thank God for that," Ballard murmured. "It would be very distressing to you, I think, to have gotten a disease and a son and lost your wife and job, all in the same timeframe. At least now only three of those things will happen."

  Troy tried not to grimace. He knew that this would be the result. He hadn't missed the fact that the president was blatantly telling him that he couldn't continue as a pastor after all he had done.

  ‘You are fired’ was not usually said by the clergy, at least not in his church. He would be getting the wording differently, but it would all amount to the same thing. With his messed-up life he couldn't stay as the leader of the flock. Moral leaders had to be above reproach. They would temporarily suspend him and maybe send him to some obscure church in the midst of the wilderness. If a couple of years down the line somebody remembered him, he would slowly be reinstated, maybe act as intern pastor to some young pastor.

  If he hadn't gotten Pops' inheritance, things would be looking very bad for him indeed. He wouldn't have been able to finish his Master’s and he could not contemplate a career change without panic.

  That was one of the downsides to joining the clergy. You had to be beyond reproach. Or maybe it was an upside; at least young pastors would think twice before having ten minutes of sexual release with the Erins of this world.

  President Ballard passed over a note to him. "Mount Faith is looking for a lecturer in their counseling department and a part-timer in their Counseling Center. You are an alma mater, aren't you?"

  "Yes." Troy nodded. "I am."

  So it wasn't going to be the wilderness then. It was going to be school. Somehow that sounded like a better alternative to him than a deep rural church somewhere.

  Ballard smiled grimly. "I can tell you now that it would be in your best interests to apply for the position. I know a couple of key people at the school. I could recommend you."

  "Thank you." Troy shrugged mentally. He made sure that he imparted a grateful smile at Ballard too.

  It was the job he had always wanted anyway. He had joined the ministry because that was what his parents had wanted and he could not have afforded that Master’s.

  "Maybe it will give you and Chelsea a new start?" Ballard asked the question, a hint of doubt in his voice.

  Troy did not have to respond. Ballard knew Chelsea well. Their families were friends.

  "I must tell you, Troy, that I will be praying for you and your family and I am pleased that you didn't try to sweep this whole situation under a carpet. I am glad you are meeting up to your responsibility." Ballard cleared his throat. "You have not started back officially at your church so there is no reason to upset the status quo. You will be sent an official letter of suspension. You have three months in which to make an appeal."

  Troy nodded. He knew the procedure. Suspension was a less harsh term than dismissal.

  Ballard's 'go with God' was ringing in his ear as he left the conference office and headed toward his hotel.

  He was staying in Montego Bay until tomorrow, when he would go to 125 Lane Street, where Todd Irving lived with his foster mother, a young-sounding lady by the name of Tatlyn Harris.

  He was happy that he had refused his mother's offer to accompany him. He needed to face his little boy for the first time by himself.

  He was doing the right thing. He had to reassure himself of that.

  Parenthood was more important than any other job. He could make a difference in this child's life for the better.

  Chapter Five

  It was six o'clock in the morning when Troy's cell phone rang. He picked it up and answered groggily.

  "It's me, Terri," his sister said chirpily. "I am in Montego Bay. Stop-over flight. I heard that you were already in town. Want us to meet for breakfast?"

  "Yes sure," Troy murmured. "You know where I am staying?"

  "Yes, silly. Palm Tree Resorts. I am booked here for the day. Meet you in an hour in the dining room," Terri continued in her ridiculously chirpy voice. "And...I have a surprise for you that is going to blow your mind."

  Troy hung up the phone. His head was pounding. He was not an advocate of headache pills as they made him feel woozy, but he had to take one after he showered and dressed and was still feeling out of it.

  He went down to the eating area of the hotel. It was an all-inclusive and they had quite a spread in the palatial dining room.

  The scents coming from the dining area were tantalizing, and it revitalized him somewhat. He headed for the juice bar, got a blended juice and looked around for his sister. The place was still relatively empty. He guessed many persons were not into having an early morning breakfast like he was.

  He spotted Terri sitting to his left in a long colorful maxi dress looking like a regular tourist; she was facing the infinity pool, which was a stone’s throw from the window. She had a happy smile on her face.

  He approached her at the table and frowned. Her hair was black.

  Troy walked over to the table and sat across from her. "I can't believe you finally did it. You dyed your hair."

  She looked at him and grinned. "How does it look?"

  "I prefer you with your reddish-brownish-orange-ish hair. It was gorgeous!" Troy murmured, sipping his juice. "It was unique. Now you look...I don't know...like everybody else, I hope Dahlia doesn't want to dye her hair when she gets older. I am strictly forbidding it."

  She leaned toward him and grinned. "You are gorgeous."

  "Huh?" Troy swallowed his juice in a gulp. "Terri, you smoking something?"

  "No," Terr
i said over his head, a plate in her hand. "This is my doppelganger, Lola."

  Troy blinked. He looked from his sister to Lola and then back again. "No!"

  "Yes," Terri said, sitting down in front of him. "This is not how I wanted you to meet her. We should have been sitting together and you should have done a double-take and hence the surprise."

  Troy shook his head. "I am surprised, all right."

  "I met Lola in Europe when we were training a couple months ago, and as of last week she is my flat mate."

  "But you look just alike. You have the same color eyes and lips and nose."

  "I know." Terri laughed. "People kept mixing us up, asking me if I dyed my hair, yada yada, until a friend of mine said, ‘Terri, I swear there is a girl that looks just like you here.’ So I met her and liked her. Let’s face it; she's gorgeous. I admire her greatly."

  "It's purely narcissism why we are friends." Lola grinned. "We really admire each other. It's like looking in the mirror. I was thinking of dying my hair red too, though I doubt I can find anything approaching Terri's glorious hair color, and I have in hazel contacts. My eyes are as brown as mud." Lola laughed. "Terri is the real beauty here. I am just the imitation."

  "Whatever." Terri rolled her eyes. "She is always fishing for compliments. So official introductions. Troy, this is Lola Montega; Lola, this is Troy Scarlett, my brother."

  "He's very handsome," Lola said, holding out her hand, which looked eerily like his sister’s hand, to him. "I told him already that he's gorg and he started to take offense."

  Troy took her hand and shook it firmly. "I am not used to my sister saying that I am gorgeous. How is it even possible that you two look so much alike?"

  "Apparently there is a lookalike of you somewhere in this world, too, Troy." Terri grinned. "Everybody has one. Seriously though, I was just as spooked as you. My mother had me the regular way and so did hers. We are not genetically modified children."