Cassie Miles - The Secret She Keeps

Payne dodged through the tables, through the screaming, terrified patrons. He hit the kitchen door and kept running. Undercover, again. He’d been set up.

Dressed in a black skirt, white blouse, black sweater and the black and white headdress of a novice nun, the woman who had once been known as Candace Verone hurried along the sidewalk outside St. Catherine’s parochial school. Head down, the folds of the wimple obscured her features. She rushed as though late for an important appointment. In the carefully tended soil near the school’s entrance, she noticed the green blades of new dahlias, a harbinger of springtime, a promise of new life. Yet, her mind was consumed by thoughts of death.

She still couldn’t accept her brother’s murder. Eddy was too young to die.

Quickly, she mounted the steps at the arched stone entryway of St. Catherine’s, a school she had once attended a long time ago in another life. Her name was Eden Miller now. She was thirty-one years old, a single mother, currently living in Denver, making an honest living from smart investments and part-time work for a caterer. The key word there was “honest,” a description not often associated with her past in this quiet Chicago suburb.

Inside the school, Eden flattened her back into an alcove beside a plaster statue. Her plan was to sneak through the bowels of the school into the church next door where her brother’s funeral would take place in a few hours.

She had risked everything by coming here. If recognized, twelve years of carefully constructed anonymity would be erased.

Cautiously, she peeked out from behind the Blessed Virgin statue. Had the hallways always been so narrow? Years ago, the school had seemed much more impressive, filled with whispers and laughter. In a rush, she remembered spelling bees and notes passed in class and best friends and boyfriends. But now was not the appropriate moment for nostalgia. She needed to slip through the school undetected. It shouldn’t be too hard. Classes were in session, and no one should be in the halls. The tricky part would be to avoid the nuns and secretaries who worked in the main office.

Before she could make her move, Eden was caught. A large hand clasped her shoulder and spun her around. She faced Sister Maxine who was uncharacteristically dressed in her full regalia—a flowing black habit with a carved rosewood crucifix the size of a baseball bat hanging from wooden beads around her ample waist.

Silently, Eden cursed. She should have remembered that Sister Max had always been able to creep silently and appear out of nowhere. The joke was that, like the Lord, Sister Max “moved in mysterious ways.”

The old nun peered through her rimless eyeglasses. “I don’t believe we’ve met. May I help you?”

Eden hoped Sister couldn’t see her too clearly. From a distance, Eden could pass for a novice nun. Up close, her white blouse was definitely silk, and the sweater showed a stylish cut. “I’m new here,” she said. “A math teacher. I transferred from, um, another parish.”

At the sound of her voice, a smile softened Sister’s stern visage. Gently, she chided, “You were never a good liar, Candace.”

Her arms spread wide like the wings of a wise black bird, and she pulled Eden into a hug. The soft warmth of Sister Max felt like a wonderfully safe haven, and Eden hugged back with all her might.

Sister Max had been a comforting presence in the background of her life. When her mother died from natural causes while Eden was in fourth grade, Sister Max had pulled her from class and had given her the news. The same with her murdered father in seventh grade, but Eden hadn’t wept on that occasion. The Verone family tragedies had become too regular, almost expected. Still, she appreciated the solace offered instinctively by Sister Max, and Eden wished she could have stayed in touch. “I’m sorry, Sister. I left without saying goodbye.”

“I understand. Your family… Let’s just say, I understand why you had to depart so abruptly, Candace.”

“Call me Eden. Eden Miller. That’s my name now.”

Sister Max stepped back. With a clean white hanky that had appeared from nowhere, she daubed at the corners of her eyes behind her glasses. “Eden it is. I’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?” Tension shot through her. Was it so obvious that she’d return for her brother’s funeral? “Why?”

“Come with me.”

Eden balked, fearful of a trap. If Gus Verone sank his talons into her, she’d never escape. “Sister, I can’t see my grandfather.”

“Of course not. I might be a nun, but I’m not an idiot.” Bitterness tinged her voice. Though Sister Max believed judgment was the province of the Lord, she thoroughly disapproved of Verone family activities. “There’s someone else who wants to see you. And I promise you’ll come to no harm.”

“Who is this mysterious person?”

“You’ll see.”

Her grandmother? Eden’s heart leapt. She missed her grandmother, Sophia Verone, so very much. As soon as Eden heard of Eddy’s death, she’d called her grandmother. On the phone, Sophia sounded desolate and weak. She’d outlived both of her own sons, and now she’d lost her only grandson, Eddy. Granddaughter Eden felt guilty to be living so far away; she was as good as gone. She’d left her grandmother alone in a nest of vipers.

Sister Max led her down the stairs, past the cafeteria and into a tunnel that connected with the church. It was the route used by students attending Mass during snowy weather. “I’m sorry for your loss, Candace. I mean, Eden. Your brother chose a dangerous path.”

His life in crime, supposedly serving the family, had killed him. Just as it killed her father and her uncle. And her one true love. His name whispered through her conscience like a forbidden breeze. Peter Maggio. Over the years, Eden had tried not to think of him, to force his presence from her mind. But her senses would never forget his gentle caresses. Her ears always listened for the rich deep timbre of his voice, speaking to her of love, promising he would never leave her. Her eyes were reminded of Peter every single day. Their son, Josh, who was nearly twelve years old, looked more and more like his father as he matured. Sometimes, Josh would cock his head at a certain angle when asking a question, and she would see the reincarnation of Peter in the dark eyes of a son who had never met his family. And never would, Eden swore. Her primary goal in life was to keep Josh safe from the Verones.

In the basement of St. Catherine’s church, Sister Max pushed through one closed door and then another. She paused outside a third door. “This may be difficult for you, Eden. But I believe this meeting is necessary. For what it’s worth, I’ve always known in my heart that he was a good man.”

He? What good man was she talking about? “I don’t understand, Sister.”

“My prayers are with you. Be strong.” Sister Max guided Eden inside and closed the door behind her.

In the smallish room where racks of choir robes and vestments were stored in plastic dry cleaners’ bags, the light came from a single forty-watt bulb. It wasn’t dark, but Eden squinted, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

She focused on a rugged man in a worn brown leather bomber jacket. Every detail came into stark clarity. She noticed the shine on his oxblood loafers, the stitching on his jeans, the buttons on his white shirt, the slight bulge of his jacket concealing a shoulder holster. His jaw set hard as granite. His dark eyes shone with unspoken gravity. Lightly etched crow’s feet touched those eyes.

“Peter,” she whispered.

He looked older. His high cheekbones and jawline were more sharply chiseled. A touch of gray streaked his thick black hair.