to see you, Lottie. I was just heading for coffee. Have you reached your quota yet?”
“I wish, but it’s off the menu for now. Decaf.” Cee Cee fell in beside her friend as they walked the busy hall of the Institute where, as Sister Catherine, Mary Kate aided Susanna LaRoche in work both medical and spiritual. “Are you just coming in or going home?”
Cee Cee caught her wry smile. “What’s the difference? When aren’t we on the job?”
“What job is that these days, M.K.?”
A cynical chuckle. “That’s the question, isn’t it? For both of us.” She directed the way into the unusually quiet breakroom where comfortable couches and fresh brew beckoned body and soul.
Cee Cee collapsed into the welcoming cushions, ready to unburden both. But first her inquiring mind had to know.
“What’s with the change of habit?” Since her friend had taken her vows, she’d rarely seen Mary Kate in street clothes except within the apartment Cee Cee didn’t visit as often as she should. Today, baby-fine blonde hair was worn loose about the shoulders of a hunter-green sweater and skirt set with tall saddle-brown boots. Flashes of gold winked at her ears with each turn of her head. And if Cee Cee wasn’t mistaken, that was lipstick softening the line of usually worry-thinned lips. It was like looking at the friend she’d lost half a lifetime ago.
No telltale flush of guilt as she answered. “It started to chafe so much I’m considering a new direction.”
Eyebrows pole vaulted. Cee Cee took the offered cup with a, “Seriously? Time for an overdue confession.” She patted the spot beside her. “It’s Tibideaux, isn’t it?”
Mary Kate blushed at the mention of her plutonic roommate, though bright blue eyes sparkled as she took a seat. “We have feelings for each other.”
Cee Cee snorted. “No kidding.”
“I’m not supposed to have them.” Her friend glanced toward the open doorway then spilled, “But I do . . . not that anything has happened. Not yet.”
Like when Max Savoie had sent her entire solar system spinning out of control. Cee Cee groaned, “You’re flesh and blood, not one of those pious statues. It’s not a bad or a wrong thing. He’s a good guy who’s head over heels for you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Her deepening blush blabbed that she had. “What I want to do about it is against every vow I took when I gave my life to a higher purpose.” A staunch argument for her own benefit or that of her insightful confidant?
“You still have purpose. Here.” Tone gentling, Cee Cee gestured widely to encompass the Institute. “You’ve served your time, paid your damned dues.” Resentment for those shared years as guests of the Church instead of a secure home lent vitriol to her familiar argument.
“It’s not prison, Lottie,” Mary Kate reminded, brows lowering in a reprimand that stung like the whack of a ruler.
“Really?” When her friend ignored the jab, Cee Cee tried a more tactful avenue. “Have you talked to Father Mike, or are you afraid he’d just re-indoctrinate you with more Kool-Aid?”
“No,” came her surprising meek reply, “just the opposite.”
Slender form slumped into the cushions beside her on a heavy sigh. “We’ve both been hiding who we really are, pretending the good we do is for others rather than our own salvation.”
Charlotte pressed her hand, startled by how fiercely the other grabbed on and held tight. “None of us are selfless or saints. We’re all flawed and afraid of being outed for the frauds we are.”
“Not you.” Mary Kate’s smile chided, holding her to a higher standard than she deserved. “You’ve always been brutally honest, especially with yourself.” A weighty pause. “What’s changed?”
Cee Cee huffed out her frustrations. “Everything. Who I thought I was, what I planned to be, every belief I was raised to uphold. I used to know the good guys from the bad. Now, I’m having a hard time believing good of anyone.” Of Warren Brady, whom she’d admired and emulated; of Alain Babineau, whom she’d trusted with her life and her secrets; of her father, whose ethics had guided her every choice . . . until she’d met and been mesmerized by a certain Mobster’s bodyguard. “There aren’t any more heroes, Mary Kate, just varying shades of villains.”
“Not villains.” Kind eyes softened. “Just people, flawed because of their humanity.”
Her laugh battled the heaviness about her heart, losing badly. “Not even that’s true. Walking upright doesn’t separate men or women from beasts anymore.”