“That’s okay, Father. I’ll just grab my purse. It was nice to meet you, Christian.”
She didn’t dare look back to see if they were still standing in the hallway when she shut and locked the classroom door after getting her purse. She raced across the front steps of the school as if she were being chased.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Terry asked after Megan had unbuckled the grinning Emily from her car seat, swung her to her hip and met Terry on the other side of the car.
“Of course. We’re going to have a ball, huh Em?”
Her niece nodded enthusiastically. “Get to go to Aunt Meg’s clay class and ’Merican Girl.”
Megan met Terry’s amused gaze. “I offer to take her to ride the Ferris wheel on Navy Pier, or to see The Lion King onstage…”
“But even the American Girl store takes second place to going to clay class,” Terry finished for her. They laughed. He gave his daughter a hard hug that necessarily included Megan. Both of them received a kiss on the cheek. He pulled a shoulder bag containing Emily’s things from the backseat. “Emily, you’re going to have to walk. Aunt Meg can’t carry both the bag and you.”
When Emily whined in protest and clung to Megan’s neck, Terry sighed in exasperation. “Emily, it will take me too long to find parking and I’m going to get a ticket parked here. Be a big girl and walk, so that Aunt Meg can carry the bag.”
She swung the heavy duffle up to her shoulder. “It’s okay, Terry, she’s tired. It’s almost naptime. My building is only across the street.”
They argued for a few seconds, but Megan was insistent and Terry was running late. He finally gave in. “Thanks again, Megan. Hilary and I owe you. Emily, you be good. No sneaking into Aunt Meg’s clay unless she says you can.”
Only after Terry’s vehicle had vacated the spot did Megan glance back toward St. Catherine’s School. The double take she did caused her to stumble slightly due to her heavy burden and precarious balance.
Christian Lasher was standing at the top of St. Cat’s steps. Most people would have said his posture was casual as he stood with his long, jean-clad legs slightly spread, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, his back resting lightly against the limestone entryway. But for a reason Megan couldn’t name, she knew that estimation would have been dead wrong.
She sensed the tension in those long, corded muscles just as she instinctively knew that the expression in his blue
eyes was as intense as ever even if now they were alight with… anger? Or was it disappointment?
Why?
Megan had no answer to that as she watched him lift one booted-foot and kick the wall behind him to lever himself forward. He sauntered toward the entryway with a loose-hipped swagger. Even as she spoke to Emily in a bright voice she wondered at the feeling of regret that flooded through her.
Christian let the door that led back into St. Catherine’s fall shut without entering. He muttered a few choice curses, all self-directed. He knew there were a dozen reasons why he shouldn’t turn around, only one of them being Father Gregory’s enigmatic statement as they’d watched Megan Shreve fly lightly down the front steps a moment ago.
The priest had had a whimsical expression on his face as he watched her but his eyes looked sad.
“We’re lucky to have her. The students love her. Megan is such a…special girl.”
“She’s hardly a girl, Father.”
Father Gregory had glanced up in surprise at the quiet conviction in Christian’s voice. “Of course she’s not. She’s a young lady now. No doubt of it. There’s always been something fragile about her though. Those that love her have always been a little protective of her and I suppose I’m no different.”
“What do you mean fragile? Is she sick?”
Father Gregory looked taken aback at the sudden tension in Christian’s voice. He seemed to come to an abrupt realization of what he’d been saying…to whom he was speaking. “Of course not, Christian. She looks hale and hearty to me.”
The priest had clapped him on the back and made an obvious attempt to change the subject. Christian had politely given an excuse and made his exit.
His stomach had knotted when he saw Megan in another man’s embrace. He watched while the couple looked into each other’s face and shared laughter.
It didn’t matter.
He had been confident of his complete disregard for about three seconds after he’d watched the man drive away, leaving Megan and the child on the sidewalk.
He damned himself for a fool but what the hell? What kind of a heel would allow her to struggle, weighed down as she was with luggage and a child? Surely he’d absorbed something from of his parent’s moral upbringing and his strict Catholic education?
Hadn’t Father Gregory said she was fragile?
“That’s right, Lasher, you’re a real boy scout,” Christian muttered drolly to himself.