Niall’s face collapsed. “I’m so sorry, Vic. That’s why I’ve wanted to explain . . .” Her voice faded. “Do you mean religious morals?” she asked uncertainly. The entire time she’d been with Vic, he’d never once struck her as being a strict adherent to organized religion.
He shook his head slowly. “I’m talking about personal principles. My father ran off with another woman when I was four years old, leaving behind his wife and two kids. My mom was blown away by his infidelity and abandonment even though she eventually got back on her feet and did an amazing job of raising Meg and me alone.”
Her chest cavity felt like it had been filled with tiny pieces of gravel that scraped her lungs as she watched Vic turn to his dresser and open up a drawer. God, that look on his face before he’d turned away . . . like she’d caught the briefest glimpse of a four-year-old child’s hurt and complete confusion at being abandoned by a parent for no apparent reason. Why hadn’t Meg ever told her that this might be one of the reasons for his intense fury at her? The realization that he might be comparing her in his mind to his unfaithful father made her wretched.
“Not all circumstances are the same, Vic.”
He shut his eyes and pressed his fingers to them. “I know that. I know that, Niall. But that doesn’t change anything I said before.” He dropped his hands and opened his eyes, meeting her gaze directly. “This is what I can offer you right now,” he said with a grim hitch of his head toward the bed, leaving little doubt in Niall’s mind as to what he meant. “If you can’t accept that, then there’s nothing else to say at the moment. If you can accept that, then what I said still stands. There really is nothing for us to talk about.”
Niall stared blankly at Vic’s six-foot-by-seven-foot bed. It was a small space, yes. But it was a space where he was agreeing to meet with her . . . where he would have to at least acknowledge her existence. If Vic truly cared for her, he would eventually have to face his feelings on this tiny little island that he’d agreed to share with her.
Wouldn’t he?
Niall swallowed convulsively. “All right, then,” she said softly before she rose and gathered her clothing, afraid to think about what she might have just sacrificed by making such a pact with the man she loved.
NINETEEN
Niall quickly shoved the letter she’d just received into her shorts pocket when she heard someone approaching on the gravel driveway that evening.
“The mail finally came, huh?” Meg said in a friendly fashion. They’d quickly made up last night after their tiff in the car.
“Charlie’s mail truck gave out on him,” Niall explained as she passed the mail to Meg.
“I’ll bet he was fit to be tied,” Meg murmured amusedly as she flipped through the envelopes. Charlie Travers was a local institution whose mail deliveries usually arrived like clockwork. They began to walk slowly back to the house. The crystalline day had evolved into a delicious, lazy summer evening, the sort of night that Niall associated with youth and innocent dreams and endless possibilities. Definitely not the kinds of things that went along with the letter that burned in her pocket at present like a piece of hot coal.
“How’s Donny been doing in your class?” Meg asked.
“He’s excelling at the class itself. He never misses, never is a minute late. He’s very intelligent, but he gets really quiet sometimes . . . moody, you know? I was hoping he would make more friends,” Niall mused. Her step slowed as she studied Meg’s profile. “Why do you ask?”
“I saw Sheriff Madigan today in town. He said that Donny’s oldest brother, Errol—the worst of the bunch—is home on parole. That’s sure to make Donny a little extra moody. Just what the kid needs this week, first Jake getting arrested and now this.” Meg shook her head worriedly. “The last time Errol got busted, it was for selling guns along with drugs. He was doing it out of their house.”
“But surely with the police watching him so closely, and being on parole, Errol won’t—”
“It’s not what Errol is selling or not selling that I’m worried about most,” Meg said, cutting her off. “It’s the guys Errol double-crossed and cheated regularly before he got sent up to Joliet that I’m concerned about.”
“He was in Joliet Prison?” Niall asked shakily. She knew the kind of prisoners they kept in Joliet. She knew all too well.
Meg nodded.
Niall inhaled slowly. “Have you told Vic?”
“He’s going to drive over in a little bit and try to talk Donny into staying here tonight.”
“Good,” Niall responded quickly. Her eyes inevitably flickered over to Vic’s cottage. It wasn’t a long-term solution, but the more the boy was safe at the farm the less time he spent in the unhealthy environment of his brothers’ home.
Meg sighed and scraped her fingers through her dark hair, as though trying to clear her mind of worries over which she had limited control. “Do you want to take Vic’s mail out to him?”
Niall blinked, realizing Meg must have noticed where she’d been staring, maybe even recognized the longing in her gaze. She knew that Meg was curious about what was going on with Niall and her brother, but Niall felt too vulnerable about what had happened earlier that day to chat about it.
“He’s writing right now,” Niall said as she began to walk slowly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Is that right?” Meg asked doubtfully.