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“We shared thewomen, and he would have me watch so I could study his technique.‘Watch and learn, my boy, see how a real man deals with women.’I was sick, and the thought tumbling inside my head was that Motherwas somewhere in the manor. And here was my father doing all thesethings, and I was a part of it.”
“You were achild!” She whispered hoarsely. “You were not to blamefor any of it.”
“I continued,even when I turned eighteen and was in college, I continued with itbecause I liked it. It made me feel like a man. And then, when I wentto college, he wanted to celebrate. Mother had planned a going awayparty for me and invited my friends.
But Bart Connelly hadthe final say in everything. He invited some escorts, and theembarrassment and humiliation almost sent her to her knees. That waswhen I realized what I was doing, how I was turning out to be justlike him.”
Chapter 8
His eyes were bleakas he stared at her. “You are disgusted, and I don’tblame you.”
“I think that with all that, how do I knowI will be enough for you? I cannot and will not abide infidelity,Brennen.”
“I will neverbe unfaithful to you.”
“Why?Because you love me?”
“Precisely.”Putting away the glass, he tipped her chin up. “I did not tellyou the story of my lurid past for you to use it as a weapon overme.”
“You think Iwould do something like that?” her eyes flashed at him.
“I don’tknow.” Letting go of her chin, he rose and went to get a robe.Shrugging it on, he belted it around his waist. He had planned anight of lovemaking and complete absorption and commitment to herbody, but that would have to wait.
“I have brokenhearts because, hey, I am Brennen Connelly, and women climbed overthemselves to be with me. I was careless, never thinking about theirfeelings. I took what they had to offer and left when I wasthrough.”
“Did you makethem any promises?” She asked him quietly.
Turning towards her,he felt the tension easing away at the question.
“No.”
“Did they knowwhat they were getting into?”
“Yes, but-”
“Then you werenot to blame.”
“I don’tneed you making excuses for me,” he told her as he shoved hishands into the deep pockets of his robe.
“Then what areyou after? Absolution? I cannot give you that; only God can.”
“God.” Helaughed harshly. “You are religious.”
Her tapered browslifted. “Surely, when you looked into my personnel file, youwould have read that I am a member of a small Baptist church in myneighborhood.
Yes, I am black andfrom a simple family. This means we go to church because we believein something bigger than us. If I am not wrong, your mother is amember of a catholic church several blocks from the manor.”
“I have notbeen back to church since I left for college. Bart was an upstandingmember of that same church.” His tone was bitter. “Theyknew what he was doing, yet he was lauded because of his significantcontribution. The height of hypocrisy never escaped me.”
“The rich aretrying to buy their way into heaven.” She shrugged slendershoulders. “I am not in a position to judge and try not to.There was an incident in my church where a deacon, a supposed pillarof society, married with two children, and he turned out to be acloset homosexual who liked young boys.
Hypocrisy iseverywhere. But I digress from the subject. Your past is just that,the past, and if I am going to beat you up for it, then I would be afool. I guess this is the getting to know each other segment.”
“Not verypretty, is it?”
“No.”She agreed.
“I want to begood for you, darling.” He came to sit on the edge of the bed.“I want to tell you I want to be as pure as the driven snow.”
