Public Secrets

of her once to have helped her there without marriage. But we jumped in and were both too lazy or too cautious to jump out again when it went bad.” He studied her fingers, long and slender, tangled with his chunky ones. “Looking back, I can see every mistake so clearly. I won’t make them again, Bev—if you give me a chance.”
“P.M.” She moved then, flustered and frightened. His hands came to her shoulders, surprisingly firm, holding her face-to-face.
“I want you to marry me, Bev, for all the right reasons.”

She hesitated, surprising herself. The answer didn’t come through her lips as quickly, as surely, as it had jumped into her head. It was her heart that stopped it, she realized. Her heart that wanted to give him what he wanted. She lifted her hands to cover his.
“I can’t. I’m so sorry I can’t.”
He stared at her, watching her eyes, the regret in them—and the trace of pity that made him want to scream. “Because of Brian.”
She started to agree, then found that answer unclear as well. “No, because of me.” She drew away, and pulling on a robe, got out of bed. “I can’t let go, you see. I thought I had, I’ve wanted to, but I can’t.” She turned back, her face in shadows, her voice clear and filled with regrets. “Being with you is the best thing to happen to me in a long, long time. It’s made me feel happy again. And it’s made me see things clearly for the first time in years.”
“You’re still in love with him.”
“Yes. I think I could live with that, I think I could accept that somehow and go on, with you, with someone. But I’m the one who drove him away, you see.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t he ever tell you?” She smiled a little as she sat on the edge of the bed. It was easy to talk to him like this, to think of him as friend now, rather than lover. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t speak of it. Not even to you. After Darren was killed, I cut Brian out of my life. I punished him, P.M., and Emma. I hurt Brian when he needed me most, blaming him because I was too afraid to blame myself.”
“For God’s sake, Bev, neither of you was to blame.”
“I’ve never been sure of that. I wouldn’t let him grieve with me. And when he was suffering, when we both were suffering, I turned him away. He didn’t leave me, P.M. I left him. And poor little Emma. In our way, I suppose we both abandoned her. Seeing you again, being with you, has made me realize just what I did. To all of us. You deserve better than a woman who didn’t love enough, and who’ll always regret it.”
“I could make you happy, Bev.”
“Yes, I think you could.” She cupped his face in her hands. “But I wouldn’t make you happy, not for long. You’d always know I loved him first, and in a way I’ll never love anyone else.”

Yes, he had known, he had known that and her answer before he had asked the question. It would have helped if he could have hated her for it, and hated Brian. But he loved. “Why don’t you go back to him, talk to him?”
“Darren would be almost ten years old now. It’s too far to go back, P.M.”

E MMA HURRIED ACROSS the grounds. If she looked as though she had a purpose, none of the sisters would stop and question her. She had an excuse prepared—a botany report for a science project.
She only wanted to be alone. She was ready to scream and wail with the need to be alone. She didn’t even want Marianne’s company. Emma was sorry she’d had to lie to her closest friend, and would confess the sin to Father Prelenski in the afternoon. But she needed an hour, an hour alone, to think.
She cast one quick look over her shoulder, then skirted around a row of hedges. Tucking the notebook she carried more securely under her arm, she dove into a small grove of trees.
Since it was Saturday, she was allowed her jeans and sneakers. It was cool enough in the shade of the greening trees to make her glad she’d worn the sweater. Once she was certain she was out of view from any of the windows of the academy, she dropped to the ground. Inside the notebook were more than a dozen clippings, most of which had been passed on to her by Teresa and other equally curious classmates.
The first was of herself, and Michael, from the summer before. She smoothed it carefully, battled embarrassed delight as she studied her face and form, depicted so clearly in newsprint. She looked wet and disheveled, and unfortunately for her ego, didn’t fill out the bikini very