I’m sore and dirty but peaceful and clearheaded for the first time in a long time.
When we get back to the car, Martin’s phone is blowing up.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit, shit. Sorry, we’ve got to get back, baby.”
He pulls me in for a quick kiss.
“You okay? I’m sorry I know it hurts.” He puts the key in the ignition and shifts the car into reverse as he starts it up, pulling back and turning to head for the church.
“Hurts so good.” I curve a shoulder to my ear.
“Such a good girl. I’ll kiss it and make it better…” He phone starts ringing again. “Shit.”
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I missed my lunch with my grandmother. Not that I mind, this was a much better lunch. But there are things in motion I need to handle. There’s five missed calls from the construction foreman too. And as many text messages, something to do with the old crypt.” He catches my expression and laughs. “Emptied out decades ago, baby, there are no dead bodies under the church.”
“So you want me to go to my room and lay low?”
“No. Fuck no. No more laying low. Unless you’re under me that is.” He shifts the car into gear, then into the next and the next until we are flying, windows down, holding hands riding into the future. “I want you with me. You’re going to have to meet my grandmother sometime, may as well be now.”
“You sure?” My tummy churns. He’s not said anything bad about her, but I have this feelings she’s not a strawberry smoothie sort of granny.
“It will be trial by fire, but just hold onto me and you’ll get through it.”
I hope so. Because if my ovaries are telling true stories, that sticky goodness you just delivered into my babymaker may just have found its home.
Martin’s grandmother is a whole situation.
She tore Martin a new one for missing their lunch, and all I could do is stand there and gawp. And when she was done, her barrels pointed toward me as the foreman came in, babbling about some water main they’d broken that was flooding the crypt.
Jesus.
I wilted as she shot me with those lasers she has for eyes.
“Martin?” I squeaked but he was gone. So much for holding onto him…
“I’ve seen you before,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “What’s your name?”
“Kitty.”
“Kitty… Yes. I know you. You were on Hoover’s Facebook. The pictures his new wife took of their wedding and tagged him in. You’re her daughter, correct?”
“Yes. You do Facebook?”
She rolls her eyes and turns to Sister Nathalia who has just come through the door with a tray of tea and cookies. “Do Facebook. Can you not teach the girls that come here to speak properly?”
“Well, I—” Nathalia looks flustered, her whole face turning pink. And I realize, despite everything she’s said and done to me, Nathalia has become like family over the time I’ve been here. I do respect her, and even like her, even if she can be a total bitch.
Sometimes a total bitch is necessary.
“I haven’t been here that long,” I tell Grandma. “I’m sure if she had the chance Sister Nathalia would beat the correct way of speaking into me.”
“Huh. Well. Yes I am on Facebook. And Instagram. And TikTok. Just because I’m old, doesn’t mean I’m past it.”
“So you know Hoover? Small world.”
“Know him? Of course I know him. What kind of a question is that?”
“Well, Martin said that they don’t know each other that well, so…” I frown, trying to figure out what I said that was wrong. “For you to know him, that’s a little…odd I guess.”
Grandma sighs. “Yes, he would say that. And I suppose he’s right, they don’t know each other very well. Strained, that’s the word I’d use to describe their relationship.”
Well, that’s a puzzling word to use.
Do they know each other or don’t they?
As I’m trying to figure it out, Martin comes back in the room, looks at his grandmother, then at me, and gives a puzzled smile. “Everything okay?”
I nod, a little dazed. Grandma rolls her eyes.
“We need to discuss what’s happening with this building. Let’s all take a seat. I’ve got good news and I’ve got complicated news, but nothing we can’t figure out if we put our heads together. That’s why I was hoping to have our lunch at the appointed time, but I suppose I’m the only one that bothers with a schedule any longer in these modern times.” She glances at me, then at Martin, then gives a frustrated sigh. “Well? Chop chop.”
Martin chuckles. “Kitty, you don’t need to hear all this. Why don’t you have some contemplation time in your room and I’ll find you when we’re done?”
“Why?” Grandma huffs. “No, she may as well stay. She’s family, after all.”
“What?” I laugh. “No, I’m—”
“Hoover’s stepdaughter. Yes. I’m not an imbecile.” Grandma points at a chair. “You’re family, dear, I don’t have secrets from family.”
“You’re related to Hoover?” I’m staring at her now, looking from her to Martin, whose face has darkened as he takes a step forward, coming my way. For some reason, instinct makes me take a step back. Something is happening and I don’t know what it is. “How are you related?”
“I’m not.” Grandma laughs. “Related to that oaf? No thank you. But he was married to my daughter, and he is the father of my grandson. So we keep in touch.”
“Your grandson…”
She turns away from me. “Martin, is this girl on drugs? She seems very confused.”
But Martin isn’t looking at her. He’s looking at me. And as he takes a step forward and tries to catch me, I move away from him. “Kitty, I can explain. Please, I need to tell you—”
“You’re Hoover’s son? We’re… That makes us…”
Stepbrother. Stepsister.
Jesus fucking Christ…
I have to get out of here. I have to run. This can’t be real, it must be a nightmare. If I run far enough away maybe I can flee back to the real world. “Don’t touch me!” I cry out as I scramble back.
The keys. The keys to the classic car. Martin left them under the wheel arch. I saw him do it.
“Kitty. Please. You have to let me explain.”
“No.” I shake my head, and when he tries to touch me again I scream.
I literally scream.
“You lied to me! You talk about trust and truth and none of it’s real! How can I believe anything you say?” I step back, shaking. Trying to process it all as Grandma stares and Nathalia heads towards me. “You lied!”
“Kitty, I—”
As he tries to reach for me again, Nathalia steps in between us. “Father Martin, I… Have you violated this girl? Have you broken your vows?”
And I take the opportunity. I grab my phone from the desk and I run.
I run down the corridor, not stopping at my room. I run out into the courtyard where the old sports car is parked. I grab the keys and I climb in, starting it up in an instant as Martin runs out of the building behind me, glancing left and right.
As I drive, the tears flow. I don’t even think about what I’m doing as I pick up the phone and start to text, pulling up my mom’s number and tapping out the first words that come to mind:
Me: How could you do this to me? Why didn’t you tell me the priest was my stepbrother?
Mom: Honey, are you okay? You’re not supposed ot have your phone.
Me: Really? That’s what you have to say?
Mom: I have no idea what you are talking about. Are you drunk?
Me: NO I AM NOT DRUNK. But I’m fucking pissed.
Mom: What is going on there? Hoover said you would be safe there. Saint Margarets is highly respected, he knows the headmaster. He’s a family friend.
Me: LOL you go the family part right. HEADMASTER FATHER MARTIN IS HOOVERS SON!
Mom: …
Me: Never mind. I’m just letting you know, I’m leaving and I don’t know if I’ll ever talk to you again I thought you should know. BYE
Mom: I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THIS SON THING. I know Hoover has three sons…he doesn’t talk much about them, but yeah, one I’ve never met. Cole. Hoover told me he was a recluse…that’s all.
Me: *eye roll* well, sure, he’s a recluse alright. At SAINT MARGARETS.
Mom: OMG, honey. I’m calling you. I didn’t know. Hoover lied to me…
