Twice Upon a Time

  Twice Upon A Time

  Emilie Richards

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  About the Author

  Authors Note

  Once More With Feeling Chapter 1

  Prologue

  The winter air was frigid enough to make Mary Kate McKenzie's teeth ache, but she forced herself to smile at the teenagers gathered in a semi-circle in front of her. Thanks to the stern warnings of the judge who had sent them here, everyone of them had arrived on time.

  The girls--she quickly counted six of them--were dressed in stiff jeans and heavy jackets, the luckiest two with sturdy leather boots. The others wore high top sneakers to seal out the worst of the snow that had fallen since early morning. All of them wore scowls, as if even a hint of Christmas spirit would doom them to eternal damnation with their peers.

  The boys--eight of them--wore the same teenage uniforms and sullen expressions. Antoine, the tallest and most dangerous of the lot, chewed gum with lightning swift efficiency, turning the wad over with his tongue and cracking it as loudly and as often as the laws of physics dictated. The others hung back, as if they had already determined that Antoine would be their leader.

  Mary Kate scanned her list to be sure all the teens were here. From the corner of her eye she noted that the caseworker and college student counselors who had brought the teens to Eden's Gate looked as cold and miserable as she felt. She supposed the bus drive from juvenile court hadn't been pleasant. The next hours probably wouldn't be, either.

  Not for anyone.

  "It's good to see you again," she told the kids, even though it wasn't. Not today, anyway.

  "You think so?" Antoine said. "Well, we ain't glad to be here."

  "Merry Christmas to you, too, Antoine." She met his eyes, hers benign and accepting, his so hostile they seemed to darken with rage.

  Someone snickered, and Mary Kate realized she had made an error. Nothing was more unacceptable to these kids than to be laughed at. And Antoine would never forget that she had caused laughter at his expense.

  "But enough good cheer," she continued, trying to defuse the situation. "I know you don't want to be here, at least not all of you. I'm glad you came anyway."

  "You think we got a choice?" Antoine said.

  She squelched the uncharacteristic sarcasm rising inside her. "You do," she said evenly. "You made your choice when you got on the bus today. I'm glad you did."

  "Yeah? Well, coming here's one step better than jail! What kinda choice is that?"

  She stared at him, thinking about the choices she had made of late.

  Thinking particularly about the choice she had made only that morning.

  As she continued to stare Antoine took a step forward, and she snapped back to the present. "But it's not jail," she said. "And right now you're going to have a chance to do something a lot more fun than stamping out license plates. Is everybody ready?"

  A general rumbling was the only answer, but it was enough to let her know what she was up against today.

  She nodded to the program staff and social worker and started inside the large greenhouse which had once been attached to a nursery in Shandley Falls, the closest town. Grace and Samantha, two of the nuns who lived at Eden's Gate, were waiting inside the door to help divide the teens into groups and get them started on the day's activity.

  Mary Kate had thought long and hard about what project to pursue this afternoon. The fourteen teenagers ranged from ages thirteen to seventeen, with differing levels of skills and intelligence. The only thing they truly had in common was that they were all juvenile offenders. Among them they had committed a range of misdemeanors and minor felonies that read like a sample page from a police blotter. Most of them had perfected and escalated their offenses over the past year, as if competing for the gold in a teen-crime Olympics.

  The only other thing they shared was a judge's belief that they could still turn their lives around. The teenagers had been assigned to Eden's Gate Ecology Center on Saturdays throughout the school year to do community service and learn new skills. In the summer they would take up residence here. While they were at Eden's Gate, Mary Kate was one of the people in charge of their futures.

  "Listen up, everybody," she said, once they'd all been herded inside. "We're going to pot bulbs to give as Christmas gifts to families who need the good cheer. I've been forcing them in buckets in the garden. We're going to tease them out of the buckets and into plastic pots to set in baskets. I'll show you how, and the sisters and I will help you get started. Sister Grace and I have collected moss and twigs in the woods to add to your arrangements. You can use your imagination, and everyone can take home his best effort."

  This time the grumbling wasn't as intense, but Mary Kate hardly registered the change. She was on automatic pilot today, and she continued that way as she did her demonstration.

  Afterwards the teenagers were separated into groups and as had been agreed previously, she was left with the most difficult to manage herself. Besides Antoine she had two other boys, Tyson and Pfeiffer, and a girl who was new to the program. She led them to a worktable and settled each of them at a station with the necessary supplies.

  She found a place for herself at the middle of the table, purposely positioning herself between Antoine and Tyson. She knew from previous experience that the two young men disliked each other--her word, not theirs. She always separated them and paid close attention to their every move.

  But today her attention wandered immediately.

  She knew there were prayers she ought to repeat, forgiveness to be pleaded for, promises to make. But none of the right words were on her lips or even forming in her mind. She had not set out to sin this morning, and even now, the sin in question didn't feel like a sin at all.

  It felt like a secret and a pledge. It felt like the greatest gift imaginable.

  She felt like her heart was breaking.

  Mary Kate McKenzie knew better than to let her mind drift beyond her immediate environment. She knew better, but for once that didn't matter. As her hands performed the comforting ritual of repotting bulbs, her heart and mind fled somewhere else, far away from the teenagers surrounding her.

  Lost in her thoughts she missed the first signs of danger, and when she finally realized what was happening, her response was too slow.

  She heard the angry words and saw the flash of movement. Precious seconds passed before she rallied to throw herself against Antoine to keep him from jumping Tyson. But she was too late, and the two boys were fighting before she could stop them. She grabbed Antoine anyway, hoping the small resistance she could offer would be enough to help Tyson free himself. But once again she was not prepared.

  She wasn't prepared when Antoine turned on her, Tyson forgotten in the heat of his fury. She wasn't prepared when Antoine grabbed a shovel leaning against the table behind them, the same shovel she had used to fill containers with potting soil so the teenagers could learn the value of nurturing and creating in a world that had taught them to destroy.

  She wasn't prepared when Antoine stepped back and slammed the shovel against the side of her head. But as she fell to the floor and her eyes clos
ed, she was prepared for the darkness and the peace that eclipsed the pain and turmoil inside her.

  Mary Kate McKenzie was prepared to die, and she did so with complete faith that something better waited for her in the distance.

  Chapter 1

  "Hey man, you got a cigarette?"

  Charles Casey got out of his car and faced the boy who had asked the question. The teenager wore a Cavaliers' starter jacket and a sneer, one as well-worn as the other. "Nope," Casey said. "Not even a stub."

  The kid shoved his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans in a stance Casey recognized from childhood street corners. "I bet."

  "Sorry, but those things can kill you."

  "Yeah? Something else'll get me first." The kid spit on the ground before he sauntered off.

  Casey watched for a moment before he realized he ought to lock the car. This was rural mid-America, where "delinquent" was a word the gas company stamped on an overdue bill. In the month since he had left the Big Apple, Casey's street smarts had already gotten rusty. "Welcome to Eden's Gate," he said under his breath.

  He twisted his key in the lock and started toward the house where the Sisters of Redemption lived and administered the Eden's Gate Ecology Center. It was a hulking Victorian monstrosity--Second Empire, if his memory of old college lectures served him correctly. He didn't have to knock. Two more teenagers, a boy and a girl, came out the side door with a middle-aged woman between them. She smiled and held the door, and Casey entered the house through a warm, fragrant kitchen.

  By the time someone showed him to the administrator's study, Casey had already gotten a feel for the house. The rooms were spacious, the furniture simple and comfortable. The atmosphere was serene, with a subtle character all its own.

  As he waited for Sarah Bradshaw he went to the window to contemplate the winter-brown landscape stretching beyond the house. Contemplation was becoming Casey's closest friend. Every night when he was supposed to be sleeping, he questioned the events that had brought him so far from his home in New York. Every morning when he thought about the day stretching in front of him, he considered the decisions he had made.

  In between he had plenty of time to ask himself if he had lost his mind.

  "Mr. Casey? I'm sorry I've kept you waiting."

  Casey turned to see an attractive woman somewhere in her late forties coming through the open door, her right hand extended. He had prepared himself to discover that the Sisters of Redemption were nothing like the nuns that had taught in the Hell's Kitchen parochial school he had attended as a boy. But Sarah Bradshaw was still a surprise. She was dressed in a dark plum skirt with a blouse of palest lilac, and the colors perfectly complemented her ivory complexion and straight black hair with its wide silver streak.

  He shook her hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Sister." He paused at her grimace. "I'm sorry. Isn't that correct?"

  "We're an informal bunch here. Just call me Sarah."

  Casey stepped around a coffee table as she ushered him to a couch that sat at an angle from a massive rosewood desk.

  The office had provided a number of clues to the woman, if he had cared to look for them. Despite the carved walnut paneling and twelve foot ceiling with its ornate plaster frieze, the room had a no-nonsense appearance. The paired triple hung windows were unembellished, so that the countryside view seemed to come right into the room. Books and photographs were the only adornments on the shelves, and the desk was uncluttered.

  Sarah seated herself beside him, which was another surprise, and fluffed the cushions behind her. "You know, you're an answer to a prayer," she said, as she settled back.

  He barely suppressed a snort. "That has to be a first."

  "Not a religious man, I take it?"

  Since adolescence Casey had been much too busy and much too guilty to risk crossing the threshold of a church. "Not so that anyone would notice."

  She lifted a brow. "But raised a Catholic."

  His surprise must have been obvious, because she nodded. "I can tell. No one knows what to do in the presence of a nun. Catholics think we're judging them for every sin they've committed, and non-Catholics remember the terrible jokes they've heard. But you definitely look like a man hoping to escape a thousand Hail Marys."

  He liked Sarah Bradshaw already. "A thousand might not cover it. Anyway, I'm not here for confession. I want to find out if we can come to an agreement about a feature article for the paper."

  "And that's the prayer that was answered," she said, going back to her first statement. "Some decent publicity for Eden's Gate."

  "How do you know it'll be decent?"

  "Do you mean considering the publicity we've already had? Or your background?"

  He whistled softly. "Not pulling any punches, are we?"

  "Sorry, but I never seem to have time for tact. Someday I'm going to resurrect my social skills, but for now, I have to cut to the chase. Keeping the center going is a big job."

  "Some would say a big, futile job."

  "Oh, absolutely. Most of the town of Shandley Falls would say so."

  A knock sounded, followed closely by the same woman he'd seen coming out of the house. "I have tea and coffee, Sarah, and some of my shortbread."

  "Wonderful." Sarah leaned forward and made a place for the tray on a table between symmetrical stacks of Sierra and Utne Reader. "Marie Bennett, this is Charles Casey."

  As he murmured a polite greeting, Marie, a sandy-haired blonde, peered at Casey through thick glasses of a trendy oval design. "Better in person," she said calmly.

  "Nicer, too," Sarah agreed.

  "Glad to meet you, Mr. Casey." Marie turned her gaze back to Sarah. "If you want anything else, let me know. I'm on patrol this morning."

  Sarah glanced at her watch. "Any problems yet?"

  "Nothing worth noting."

  Casey wondered if Marie meant that there was nothing worth noting in front of him. He listened with interest.

  "No more destruction by the pond?" Sarah said.

  "Everything looks peaceful. Most of the kids are washing windows in the greenhouse now." The door closed behind Marie, and Sarah bent to peek inside a white china teapot. "Coffee or tea, Mr. Casey?"

  "Just Casey, please. And coffee." He didn't pause. "Tell me about the kids."

  "During the school year we have a dozen or so teenagers assigned here for weekends by the juvenile court. In the summer they live and work here full-time. But I bet you knew that already." Sarah poured a cup from a taller pot and held it out to him. "I'll bet this coffee beats anything you had when you were working on The Whole Truth."

  "The coffee at the paper's not much better." He took the cup and then a sip. "This is excellent."

  "Well, we believe in quality." Sarah poured herself tea. "I hope you do, too."

  "My reputation has preceded me." He tried not to smile. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed. He had been told by the only woman he'd ever loved that he had the black-hearted grin of a pirate.

  "Your reputation would be hard to hide, wouldn't it? Until just a few months ago I could turn on my television five nights a week and watch you making your reputation."

  "Or destroying it."

  She watched him intently, as if trying to read his thoughts. "It all depends on perspective, doesn't it? You were very good at what you did."

  "I don't do it any more. I left The Whole Truth forever."

  "And moved well down the career ladder to a weekly paper in Ohio where the most exciting story you'll ever encounter will be the one about this center."

  Casey, who didn't want to talk about his reasons for leaving New York, realized they were back at the beginning of their conversation. "Let's talk about that."

  She didn't probe any further. "We've had more than our share of bad publicity since our center was established. No, it goes even further back than that. It began when the Sisters of Redemption inherited Eden's Gate. Right from the beginning people in Shandley Falls felt our presence could only detract from progress in the community.
I'm not sure what they expected, but they did seem to feel we would change the character of the town, and they were right, of course. Because we have."

  He pulled a notebook from the inside pocket of his sports coat. "You've been here one year?"

  "One and a half. We spent the first six months assessing the property, improving the buildings and working with the local zoning board, the city council." She shrugged to show that the list went on and on.

  She didn't seem at all perturbed by the experience. "And then?"

  "We began to put together our programs. We made arrangements to work with the local hospice. We built dormitories and opened our program for juvenile offenders during our first summer. We spent that summer fine tuning it and publicizing our goals. And this year we've doubled the number of teens we're working with."

  "As I understand it, that means you've gone from nine kids to eighteen, which is still surprisingly few considering how many troubled kids roam the streets of Ohio. Just from glancing around the estate and the facilities, you appear to have room for many more than that."

  "Oh, we do. We hope to have up to sixty kids in the next two years, maybe more after we build new dormitories and renovate the barn as a meeting center."

  "Has that program remained small because you're still feeling your way?"

  "We've remained small because we haven't yet proven ourselves."

  Casey's instincts were still intact, despite his career change. He leaned in for the kill. "In fact, haven't you proven that there are good reasons to be concerned about safety here?"

  "I suppose if we were on television, this is where you'd zoom in to find me sweating and shaking."

  Casey set down his cup, surprised to see that he'd already finished the contents. "Are you?"