Unpardonable Sin 9

Unpardonable Sin 91

A chilling breeze blew off the Atlantic onto the coast of New Jersey. Sea gulls shrieked as they circled above in the bright early morning sky. Thomas Devlin rubbed at his eyes that were stinging from lack of sleep and left over intoxicants. He was freezing. He dragged himself up out of the wet sand. He attempted to rub some of the clinging grit from his naked body. He stared down at his partner in crime and shook his head in disbelief. ‘This broad was fucking nuts.’2

Andrea Nelson was sprawled on her belly, her legs half buried in the wet sand. Her head was turned slightly while her face remained hidden beneath a carelessly flung arm and piles of soaking wet hair. The darkness of her skin blended into the darkness of the wet blanket of sand so there were no distinct breaks. She’d finally fallen asleep or passed out. The second was more likely, he decided. 3

Thank god, he almost said aloud. Then caught himself. Hell, he might wake her up. He grabbed a beach towel to wrap around his waist. It was slimy wet and made him colder. Still, he couldn’t parade bare-assed up to the house. Angrily, he slapped at his chest and arms trying to restore some heat to his frozen flesh. Had they really come running down here with nothing on but towels? He glanced around to convince himself. Their nonsense had turned crazy last night. They’d been totally whacked out. He took the other towel and carefully spread it over the sleeping Andrea. Last thing he needed was to waken her. With any luck, he’d be showered and dressed and ready to leave before she revived. 4

He backed quietly away on the balls of his feet until he was certain nothing would disturb her and then he was running for the house.5

A dull ache poked where his skull met his spine and traveled the length to the top of his head. His mind worked at forming excuses to himself. ‘Two frigging days and three nights.’ What the hell did she think he was a machine? Christ if Connors kept up with her, he must be a fucking ape. John probably had ten years on him. The sour taste in his mouth gagged him. Tommy, lad, you’re outclassed. Here you are in John Connors’ house, with John Connors’ broad, in John Connors’ bed and ya can’t hack it.6

He made his way through the house and up to master bedroom they’d been sharing. Quickly in the shower, he let the water run on full hot trying to warm his flesh. He sucked and swished mouthwash over and over. Who in hell screws in the pouring rain, probably forty degrees out, with thunder and lighting raging around you. Certified nut cases with a death wish--that’s who. Jesus! He gingerly touched several red bruises in conspicuous areas of his body. What in hell! She tried to devourer him? He couldn’t remember her actually biting him. But those were teeth marks on his chest and belly sure as shitting. He hoped she didn’t draw blood. He felt a stinging on his back and hurried through the rest of his washing to check it out in the wall mirror. Rosy fingernail streaks overlapped one another on his back. No blood. He thanked God. Lady you can leave messages until they filled the office. One time around with a tiger is enough for this lad. 7

By seven he was in the kitchen. Unable to locate tea, he made a pot of coffee. Barely getting down the first sip, he looked up to see her standing naked in the doorway leading from the deck. “Christ, Andrea, I left you covered.”8

She wasn’t even shivering. She yawned and stretched leisurely like the cat he knew she was. She finger-combed the tangled mess of her hair, as she said, “No ones around this time of year. Surely, I’m not shocking you.”9

“That’s an understatement.”10

“You’re dressed. I’ll shower and we...”11

“Got a problem.” He cut off whatever she was going to offer. “I have to get back. Monday Morning. This boy’s on salary.”12

“Call in sick.”13

“I’m tempted.” He covered the lying with a smile. “Too much of a good thing and I will be. Besides I have a case on the docket this morning. Have some coffee? No eggs but there was bread in the freezer. Make you some toast?”14

“Nah, you’re in a hurry. I’ll just laze around for a while. Garb some breakfast on the point before I head out.”15

He breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t going to give him an argument. He couldn’t look directly at her. She was comfortable naked and that made him uncomfortable. “Well, I better get started. It’s a couple hours back. I...” He hesitated. He felt like a fool. He was standing fully dressed in front of a naked woman, he’d been fucking for three nights and didn’t know how to say goodbye. Did she expect a kiss? Much safer to shake her hand. That idea nearly made him laugh.16

She turned away, almost as if she was dismissing him, and headed to the back stairwell without adding anything.17

“I’ll give you a call.”18

“You do that.” Her movements seemed to gain urgency and she ran up the service stairs.19

A few minutes later Devlin escaped to his car and headed toward the bridge that would whisk him back to a slightly saner world. 20

Several times on the drive down the Garden State Highway the road blurred. He hunted his sunglasses. When he couldn’t find them, he slammed the glove compartment in irritation. He looked in the rearview mirror; his blood shot orbs stared back. No way did he dare show up at office looking like this. He turned off the Garden State on to the New York Thruway. Then took a cut off ramp before he got immersed in city traffic and headed out to Westchester.21

His stomach growled. Had they even bothered to eat? That was nuts. He could remember the ribs at the shack Andrea told him was open all year. He’d have to try it again when he could taste food. The whole weekend was surreal. Right then he swore off of two new things he’d tried --white cocaine and black women. Tom Devlin had enough ways open to hell. He wasn’t adding to them. 22

Chapter 323

New York, 197624

Ann Ryan moved quietly: a well-practiced trait that she learned from her mother. A mother, who impressed upon her daughter early in life, that no matter how beautiful, an obnoxious and loud female was never tolerated in proper society. Her mother had groomed her to be the perfect wife-- Ann disappointed her. It was the late sixties when she went off to collage, and young ladies were hunting more interesting careers. Ann took law but when the opportunity came to practice it she failed badly. Since she wasn’t forced into the labor market by need of money, she convinced herself she lacked the personality necessary to function on equal footing with men and played at her career choice while contemplating an early marriage. That too seemed to escape her. The opportunities were there but the fellows didn’t meet her standards.25

Ann Ryan loved Michael O’Neill. The first time she realized this she was eleven and he nineteen and the gulf seemed insurmountable. So she packed him away in her heart but continued to judge other men by this idealistic character that didn’t exist. 26

More the pity, Ann wasn’t blind to the real Michael. As she grew up she watched him flit from one relationship to another and was thrilled when each one ended. Then last year Ann retuned from a junket around Europe to find Michael still unmarried. To her delight, Michael noticed she wasn’t a child anymore and the ten years that separated them seem to vanish . 27

This afternoon Ann stood on the veranda of the O’Neill estate and watched Michael patrolling the walkway as the car came up the drive. The man behind the wheel must have spotted Michael, for he never drove that slowly.28

Ann smiled but there was no humor in her face. Children are easily handled, her mother said. Mama should spend a few weeks with Deirdre. Good lord. A few hours and she’d be pulling her hair out. No, maybe not, maybe she could handle the little girl. Ann wished her mother had taught her something useful like that. Deirdre had been angry with her since the party. If the child was just being her nasty self, Ann could have coped. But Deirdre ignored her; treated her like she didn’t exist, and it hurt. The girl went to the housekeeper for anything she couldn’t manage herself. She kept her bedroom and playroom doors closed and ignored Ann’s requests to enter. 29

Michael promised they would talk to Deirdre today. They would discuss their plans together so Deirdre would understand it was going to be the three of them from now on. 30

Of course that promise was made the previous night. Michael came home late and requested they have dinner in the den. When he returned from his shower, wearing his dressing gown, Ann knew Michael was obviously looking forward to a pleasurable night. As she left to fetch their meal he said, “If anyone but you comes through that door I’ll shoot them.” 31

Taking the clue from that declaration, Ann changed. She washed off the bit of day makeup. Arranging several curls on her forehead gave her an impish look, and the short red silk negligee, she hoped, some trampish appeal. When you were five foot one, with narrow hips, and breasts as skimpy as the padding in your bra, it was difficult to look sexy.32

She made the detour though the kitchen only to become upset to find the housekeeper was preparing their tray. “Stella, I told you I would take care of that myself.” Ann’s self-consciousness about her outfit made her tone sharp.33

The large woman answered in her slight German accent. “Wasn’t no bother. TV stinks tonight.” In her late forties, Stella was full-bodied but there was nothing flabby about her. The natural blonde hair was streaked lightly with white—she would never struggle with gray. Her face bore no signs of wrinkling and while her stern features rarely gave hint to a smile there was a rough attractiveness to the face. Michael kidded Stella that she was a ‘Hun’ and it didn't bother her. Ann figured the housekeeper was gay. She was always half-expecting Stella to make a pass at her. 34

As Stella turned with the tray, Ann saw her eyes shifting up and down. The bitch was openly appraising her body beneath the inadequate outfit. Ann wanted to say, hope you’re enjoying the view. She said, “Thank you.” and took the tray.35

When Ann returned the artificial light in the den was replaced by the glow from the fireplace. A soft instrumental came from hidden speakers. Michael had set the table up in front of the hearth that now gave off a scent of apple wood. He’d adjusted the twin lounge so it faced the fire he’d started, and installed himself on the left side of the lounge with his head back and his eyes closed. He appeared so completely relaxed that for a moment she felt like an intruder.36

The radiance from the flames cast a golden sheen over Michael’s fairness and made his ginger hair sparkle with its own fire. He was big but not with the bulkiness of excessive weight. A supple, loose-jointed machine, his body was created in the image of some ancient god. She had the urge to kneel down and adore him. She wondered what it would feel like to walk around in that magnificent flesh. To wield all that power. To never be afraid. His lashes flickered like tiny flashes of light and his eyes opened. His lips parted in a teasing smile. “Aye, my lady Ann is dinner then served?”37

“Aye, my Lord, and it’s a fine feast I’ve prepared.”38

She set down the tray. Before she could straighten, he rose and came up behind and caught her waist between his hands. He spun her around lifting her feet from the floor so their mouths could meet. At such times Ann could lull herself with the belief she really mattered to him. He loved her. There are two men in Michael, Shelia Connors had told her, if you are lucky like I was, Ann, you’ll find the right one. Ann’s arms encircled his chest. She drew tightly against him and felt their hearts beating in tune. Michael loves Ann, Annie loves Michael.... That was last night. 39

They made love, made plans, and life was perfect. But now it was today and he told her to wait on the veranda. “Wait here for a minute—let me talk to the kid first.” 40

‘Wait Ann—wait like the insignificant creature you are.’ She suppressed an instant flash of anger, as she tried to convince herself, Michael was simply setting the stage to make things easier.41