“And then what? I assume they let you off after that.”
“Not exactly. The prosecution concocted a theory that I was after my father's money, that if I killed him, I'd get everything. Everything being one small but highly mortgaged house, and half of his law practice, which was a lot smaller than yours. I couldn't inherit any of it anyway, because I killed him. I had no friends. I had never told anyone. My teachers said that I was withdrawn and strange, kids said they never knew me. It was easy to believe I'd just flipped out and killed him. His law partner lied and claimed I'd asked about Dad's money after the funeral. I'd never said a word to him, but he claimed that Dad owed him a lot of money. And in the end, he grabbed everything, and gave me fifty thousand dollars to stay out of town and leave him to take it all. I did, and I still have the money by the way. Somehow, I can't bring myself to spend it.
“But the D.A. decided that I had killed my father for his money, and that I'd probably been out screwing around, and when I came home, Dad got mad and yelled at me, so I killed him.” She smiled bitterly, remembering every detail. “They even said that I'd probably tried to seduce my father too. They'd found my nightgown on the floor where he threw it after he tore it in half, and they claimed I had probably exposed myself to him, and when he didn't want me, I shot him. They charged me with murder one, which would have required the death penalty. I was seventeen, but they tried me as an-adult. And aside from Molly, and David, my attorney, no one ever believed me. He was too good, too perfect, too loved by the community. Everyone hated me for killing him. Even telling the truth didn't save me. By then it was too late. Everybody loved him.
“They found me guilty of voluntary manslaughter, and I got two and two. Two years of prison, two years of probation. I served two years almost to the day in Dwight Correctional Center, where,” she smiled sadly at him, “I did a correspondence course and got an AA degree from a junior college. Actually, it was quite an education. And if it weren't for two women there, Luana and Sally, who were lovers, I'd probably be dead now. I was kidnapped by a gang one night, and they were going to gang-bang me and use me as a slave, and Sally, who was my cellmate, and Luana, her friend, stopped them. They were the two toughest but kindest women you could ever meet, and they saved me. No one ever touched me after that, nor did they. I don't even know where they are now. Luana is probably still there, but Sally's time would be up, unless she did something dumb so she could stay with Luana. But when I left, they told me to forget them, and put it all behind me.
“I never went home again, and that was when I went to Chicago, where my probation officer kept threatening to send me back if I didn't sleep with him. But somehow I managed not to. And you pretty much know the rest. I told you that last night. I worked in Chicago for two years while I was on probation. No one ever knew where I'd been, or where I came from. They didn't know I'd been in prison, or had killed my father. They didn't know anything. You're the first person I've ever told since David and Molly.” She felt drained but a thousand pounds lighter when she finished. It had been a relief to tell him.
“What about Father Tim? Does he know?”
“He's just guessed, but I've never said anything to him. I didn't think I had to. But I worked at St. Mary's in Chicago, and now St. Andrew's, because it's my way of paying back for what I did. And maybe I can stop some other poor kid from going through what I did.”
“My God, my God … Grace … how did you survive it?” He held her close to him, cradling her head against his chest, unable to even begin to fathom the kind of pain and misery she'd been through. All he wanted to do now was hold her in his arms forever.
“I just survived, I guess,” she answered him, “and in some ways, I didn't. I've only been out with one man. I've never had sex with anyone but my father. And I'm not sure I could. The man who drugged me said I almost killed him when he tried to lay a hand on me, and maybe I would have. I don't think that can ever be part of my life again.” And yet … she had kissed him, and he hadn't frightened her at all. In some ways, she wondered if she could learn to trust him. If he even wanted her now, after all he'd heard. She searched his eyes looking for some sign of condemnation, but there was only sorrow and compassion.
“I wish I could have killed him for you. How could they send you to prison for that? How could they be so blind and so rotten?”
“It happens that way sometimes.” She wasn't bitter. She had long since come to accept it. But she realized that if he betrayed her now, and told people about her past, her life in New York would be ruined. She'd have to move on again, and she didn't want to. Telling him had required a great deal of trust from her, but it was worth it.
“What makes you think that you could never deal with intimacy again? Have you ever tried to?”
“No. But I just can't imagine doing that, without reliving the nightmare.”
“You've left the rest of it, and moved on. Why not that too? You owe it to yourself, Grace, and to anyone who loves you. In this case, me,” he smiled, and then he asked her another question.
“Would you go to a therapist if you needed to?” he asked gently, but she wasn't sure. In a funny way, it would seem like a betrayal of Molly.
“Maybe,” she said uncertainly, maybe even therapy would be too hard to handle.
“I have a feeling you're sounder than you think. I don't know why, but I don't think you could come through all you did, if you weren't. I think you're just scared, and who wouldn't be. And you're not exactly a hundred years old, you know.”
“I'm twenty-three,” she said, as though it were a major achievement, and he laughed at her and kissed her.
“I'm not impressed, kiddo. I'm almost twenty years older than you are.” He would be forty-three in the fall, and she knew that.
But she was looking at him very seriously then. “Tell me honestly. Isn't that history more than you want to deal with?”
“I don't see why. It's not your fault, any more than being mugged on Delancey Street was your fault. You were a victim, Grace, of two very sick people who used you. You didn't do anything. Even when you had sex with him, you had no choice. Anyone would have done the same, any kid would have been terrorized into thinking they were helping their dying mother. How could you possibly resist them? You couldn't. You've been a victim all along. It sounds like you stayed a victim right up until you left Chicago and came to New York last October. Don't you think it's time you changed that? It's been ten years since the nightmare began. That's almost half your life. Don't you think you have a right to a good life now? I think you've earned it,” he said, and then kissed her hard, and with everything he felt for her. There was no mistaking what he was feeling. He was deeply in love with her, and willing to accept her past, in exchange for her future. “I love you. I'm in love with you. I don't care what you did, or what happened to you, I'm just sorry as hell that you had to suffer so much pain, and so much misery. I wish I could wash it all away, and change your memory of it, but I can't. I accept you exactly as you are, I love you exactly as you are, and all I want is what we can give each other now. I want to thank my lucky stars for the day you walked into my office. I can't believe how blessed I was to have found you.”
“I'm the lucky one,” she said, in awe of his reaction. She could hardly believe what he was saying. “Why are you saying all this to me?” she asked, near tears again. It was impossible to fathom.
“I'm saying it because I mean it. Why don't you just relax and stop worrying for a while, and enjoy it? You've had a lot of worrying to do for a long time. Now it's my turn. I'll worry for both of us. Okay?” he asked, moving toward her again with a smile and wiping the tears from beneath her eyes. “Okay?”