NOW

If I had the chance, love

You know I would not hesitate

To tell you all the things

I'd never said before

Don't tell me it's too late

'Cause I've relied on my illusions

To keep me warm at night

I denied in my capacity to love

I am willing to give up this fight

"Dirty Little Secret"

Sarah McLachlan

May 4, 1952

Worcester, Massachusetts

Chuck pulled away from Roxanne's driveway, thankful for the reprieve from that entire situation, even if only for a moment. Sarah closed the distance between them once again, sliding across the car seat and snuggling against him as he drove. His mind kept cycling back to the words he had overheard Sarah and Carina saying. If not kept in check, his mind would embellish, twist them until he manufactured an hypothesis. Worrying was a waste of his energy, and made everything worse. As a countermeasure, to focus himself, he took deep breaths, imagining he was exhaling his anxiety and inhaling calm. His mind was a jumble, but right here, in this moment, as they drove quietly together, everything was alright.

Sarah was happy.

The soft curve of her mouth, the twinkle of her sapphire eyes, the warmth of her body as he felt it pressed against him–pure bliss, inside him, and directed at him from her. She was peaceful and content, and it was genuine. She wasn't pretending or forcing the joy. The shadows inside her were at bay, forgotten for now, as she basked in the moment. He did need to talk to her, but he wanted to savor this moment, treasure it, a moment rare in their time together. Together. Had they ever been together with as much known and acknowledged between them as now?

She's happy…because she's with me. That we're together.

He was still mystified by the thought that he could be the reason for the transformation. It bewildered him, left him awestruck. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to it, not sure he wanted to get used to it. He never wanted to risk taking those facts for granted.

He kept his mind only on the road, concentrating on the way she felt, so close and warm. She reached for his hand, sliding her fingers through his, running her thumb across the back of his hand. The silence was relaxed and peaceful, although charged with an undercurrent of deep feeling.

He had decided on his own driveway as the place when he needed to start talking. He wanted to talk to her while they were alone, before they entered the house.

Jack's wishes were clear; he did not want Chuck ever to tell Sarah about the final deal he had made with Shaw. But Chuck could tell her about the ledger, about the mafia and the debts. Chuck wanted to tell her as much as he could, with the hope that she would fill in what he didn't understand.

He stopped the car and turned the ignition off.

"Did you ever let Gertrude know I was coming with you tonight?" Sarah asked, straightening herself, scooting away, anticipating exiting the car.

"No, no," he stuttered. "But it's ok, I promise," he added with a smile.

She started sliding farther towards the passenger door. He reached for her arm, holding her in place. "Sarah, there's something I wanted to talk to you about, before we go inside."

"Ok, Chuck," she said, quietly regarding him.

"You knew we donated your father's desk to the Salvation Army, right?" he asked, knowing she did, just trying to find a place to start. She nodded, her eyes fixed on his curiously. "Morgan found…a ledger. One that Jack was hiding. He was keeping track of what he stole…and who he was paying."

He had foreseen her change, his premonition coming true as he watched. She went pale, her eyes widening. He watched her hands curl into fists. She was disguising their tremor, now that she was frightened of what he was going to say.

Sarah had told Chuck she knew nothing about Jack's potential dealing with the mafia. His chest was tight as he thought that she had lied to him before. She was keeping a secret, but, somehow, he found secrets a different category than boldfaced lies. Dishonesty was dishonesty, as Casey would surely tell him, but to Chuck anyway, there was a distinction. Sometimes secrets were secret for a reason. He found himself praying that she hadn't been lying about any of that. He wanted her to feel comfortable to share her secret with him, but he wanted her to tell him the truth all the same.

"What…what did you find?" she asked, swallowing hard, almost choking, as if her mouth was dry.

"Jack…owed…a lot of money to Frank Iaconi…you know, the crime boss," he said, scrutinizing her face as he spoke.

She pressed her hand over her mouth, leaning forward, the sound of her strained breathing amplified in the stillness of the car.

She was shocked. He knew that was her first reaction. Her expression was dynamic, however, changing from shock to anger…and then sadness, even guilt, all in the course of a few seconds. She told him the truth before. He was splitting hairs, he knew, but he was relieved.

"It looked like he owed almost five thousand dollars at the time of his death. Some of that debt was over a year delinquent. Iaconi had to have been threatening him. Or sending Shaw to threaten him. Did you ever think your father had been…beaten…or…" Chuck couldn't continue, the grisly picture in his head more than he wanted to share with Sarah. Chuck hadn't ever noticed anything of the sort, any injury, but Sarah was the one who lived with him.

Her voice was strange when she replied, high-pitched, child-like. "He hid it from me." Her face contorted, as some memory played behind her eyelids.

He turned, stretching his arm over the back of the seat and reaching for her, stroking the back of her hair. He felt the muscles in the back of her neck, hard as stone. "But you…suspected it?" he asked cautiously. She nodded.

She could have told me. She should have told me. The rift between them had grown after she had turned 16, but it had never been so prominently displayed before this moment. She had known her father was in physical danger, and had kept it a secret.

"Do you think…he killed himself…because he knew Iaconi put a hit on him?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I don't know, Sarah," Chuck breathed. Although he did know–Jack's final wish was that Chuck never tell her the reason. Lies and secrets — were they so different? "I can't imagine Iaconi would have let it go for much longer."

Something occurred to her, some horror that made her gasp and turn to him quickly, grabbing his arm so tightly it made him wince in pain. "If he never paid, then…then…is Iaconi after you now?"

Chuck hadn't considered his own safety in all of this. He was much more concerned that one of Iaconi's men would be sent after Sarah to collect the debt, although that honor-among-thieves Diane had spoken to him about was real. Iaconi, as powerful as he was, still answered to the Genoveses. That Sicilian code, handed down through generations, protected both Chuck and Sarah from Jack's debts. Jack's death was the payment of the debts, and Chuck and Sarah were innocent.

"I was just Jack's business partner. I'm hoping that absolves me from any retribution. Truth is, I'm not sure."

Desperate, her voice shrill, she demanded, "No one's approached you, have they?"

"No, no," he assured her. "Shaw had ample opportunity for the amount of times Mike said he's been around. I was much more worried about you. Diane didn't think I needed to be."

"When did you talk to Diane about any of this?" she asked, still flustered.

"A few weeks ago, before we found the ledger. It was just a conversation, speculation. But she explained it all. The fact that you're a woman, and innocent of all of this…Diane is confident that Iaconi would never let any of his men harm you. It violates their code. Whatever that means," Chuck grumbled.

She stayed facing forward, looking out the windshield, even as Chuck continued to smooth the hair on the back of her head. Her whole body shook with her rapid breathing, visible as her chest rose and fell. Her agitation was increasing, but he wasn't done.

Just say it. Everything needed to be exposed. Holding back only hindered his progress.

"Sarah, I think your father couldn't pay Iaconi…because Shaw was blackmailing him," Chuck said slowly, his voice low and deep.

Sarah jerked towards him, her face now alabaster, her lips pale lavender, creating a ghostly visage. "How do you know that?" she gasped.

"The ledger," he whispered over the aching lump in his throat. The altercation in front of his office now shone in a new light. "You didn't know about Iaconi. But you knew about Shaw blackmailing your father, didn't you?"

Her eyes darted away in terror. He saw that face again, that expression that meant she was bracing for pain. She nodded stiffly.

She was still telling him the truth. He was so close to her secret he could feel it. The air between them was charged, electric and crackling, like the sky after a lightning strike. He felt as if she were trying to will the thoughts to him telepathically, that she wished he could know without her having to say the words out loud. She was petrified, almost paralyzed with fear. He had never known her to be fearful by nature; she was the most fearless person he had ever known. He had to know why she was so afraid now.

He wrapped his arm around her, despite how stiff and unrelenting she was as he did so. "Sarah, you know there is nothing you could ever tell me that would change the way I feel about you, right?" he said gently. "You can tell me anything," he repeated. "I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

An interminably long time passed, much more than ever before in his experience, but her taut muscles relaxed, gradually, as he held her. "I don't want to put anyone else in danger," she insisted. "My father told me very specifically not to tell you anything. You were safer that way."

The gnawing sensation in his stomach worsened as he listened. Who else was in danger? And why? "Do you know how Shaw was able to do it? What Shaw's leverage was?" He felt awful, interrogating her. He didn't know specifics, but he knew of her awareness of the answer, and he knew it concerned Sarah more than Jack.

She stiffened so drastically, so suddenly, it felt as if she were having a seizure. Sarah tried to pull away, tried to turn from his arms, but he held her, not roughly, but insistently. Sarah didn't struggle against his hold, but she started crying, silently against his chest. He felt the tears soaking his shirt, plastering the spot to his skin beneath. An answer without words. Intuitively, he knew, this was her way of not lying to him…saying nothing. As awful as he felt, her constant truthfulness steeled him.

He swallowed down the fear. "Sarah, when your father called my house on the night he died, he told Gertrude to tell me to take care of you," he choked. "It's what I'm doing now. It's what I will always do." He felt her nuzzling against his chest, leaning her weight on him. "I would have done that without all of this."

"I don't want there to be any lies between us. Any secrets," she whispered, her voice broken, keeping her head against him. "But, please, let me keep this…one. I promise you I will never lie to you…or keep anything from you…ever again."

She was pleading with him, and he heard the desperation, the resignation in her voice. She was asking, but she didn't believe he would grant her that. Part of him wanted to shake her, to break through the wall so she would just… tell him. But he knew she was trying. He had been marveling at her happiness before, and the last thing he wanted was to destroy that buoyancy inside her. He had to let it go, for now, telling himself again that she would tell him when she was ready. He had to trust her future self to share what her present self seemed unable to share.

He touched her cheek, then slid his hand into her hair and cupped her head. He angled his head down as he gently tilted her head back to look at her. "I love you. Forever. Nothing changes that. Nothing. I'll wait, as long as you need me to. But, please, promise me that you will tell me."

She made a soft sound, deep in her throat, a cross between a heavy sigh and a moan. "Why? Why do you love me so much?" she challenged, ignoring his question.

She's genuinely afraid I'll stop loving her if I know. The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, making every nerve in his body come alive with pain. He had already assured her nothing could cause that, and he meant it. Only, she didn't believe him. She thought she knew better.

What could be that awful?

His mind went dark, collapsing upon itself, conjuring all the demons that could be haunting her. But spiraling, as he had already decided, was counterproductive. He could pull shadows from the darkest places…only to… what? Find that in actuality, her sin was worse?

Sin. The word stuck in his thoughts like a burr, painful and unshakable. Casey and Gertrude were Catholic, making Chuck sort of Catholic by default, though his own parents had been Protestants. Sarah had no religious affiliation, raised by a man without one. From what Chuck understood, for Catholics there were degrees of sinfulness. Some minor, venial, like cursing, some grave, mortal, like murder. Some things were sins only because of the backdrop, the timeframe or location in which they lived, like the earliest Christians during the Dark Ages. Others were absolute, known ethically, regardless of which version of God was looking upon the act. Chuck wasn't sure he had all that quite right, but it was the basic idea.

His mind started wandering again, and he forced himself to stop. He shook his head, clearing the images. The worst thing he could imagine was still weightless in the face of his feelings. She was wrong, believing what she did. For her, there was no unforgivable sin. But he would have to prove it to her slowly, over time.

"I can't remember a time before I loved you, Sarah. It's part of who I am," he confessed, his voice rich with sincerity. "My very identity includes you, includes loving you. Even if there was a time I couldn't or wouldn't own it. But you, Sarah,…you are strong…and sweet…and kind…and intelligent. Caring and observant and loving. More beautiful than I can capture in words…inside and out."

All he did was tell her truth. The truth as he finally knew it. And all he could hope for was that somewhere in that list, he had covered whatever it was she thought he was wrong about.

She leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder and looking into his eyes. Her eyes were the blue of the sea during a storm, troubled and shaded. He wanted to see the summer sky blue of them again, as he had before he'd brought all this up. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She touched his cheek, caressing his skin as she ran her thumb over his cheekbone. "I don't know how you're even real. You're like a dream, do you know that?" The storm disappeared from her eyes, just as he'd hoped.

"That's what Carina told me," he said with a smile. "I wasn't sure how to take that, considering the source."

She smiled in return, giggling, stretching herself up to kiss him. Her lips were delicate, soft and molded perfectly against his. She opened her mouth as she slid her hand down his neck and inside the collar of his shirt. He heard the softest of sighs as he pulled her closer, the space in between their bodies unbearable. Chuck lost track of time, leaning against the car door with Sarah in his arms, passionately kissing him.

What finally disturbed them was a hard knock on the car window.

"Yo!" It was Casey, who then stepped back from the door.

Chuck sat up quickly, nervous and awkward as a teenage boy. Sarah followed, reaching to straighten her clothes and smooth down her hair. He opened the door quickly, hearing Sarah jump out of the passenger door on the other side of the car.

"What the heck do you think this is?" Casey grumbled walking away, then turned around on the step as he waited for Chuck and Sarah to catch up. Sarah grabbed Chuck's hand as they started walking up the steps. "Well, wonders never cease," Casey quipped, with a twisted smirk on his face. "You finally smartened up, kid."

Chuck rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Right?" Casey said, animated, as he turned to smile warmly at Sarah. He winked at her.

Her smile was electric as she looked at Chuck while she answered Casey. "Finally."

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"So I want to hear everything," Gertrude said as she hustled her way into the living room, where Casey, Chuck, and Sarah were seated. She had been cleaning up in the kitchen, putting the last of the leftover food away and washing the dishes. She set down the tray she carried to the table, on it were cups of coffee and a sugar and creamer set.

The fancy china, Chuck realized. The Lenox china his mother had received as a wedding gift when she'd married Chuck's father. His parents had used it on special occasions only, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Gertrude and Casey had always affirmed that it belonged to Chuck, but that it was a sin to waste something so beautiful and so expensive, so the entire set remained in occasional use. The print on the porcelain was oriental in style, branches and flowers reminiscent of Chinese vase designs Chuck had seen in magazines.

Casey sat in his chair, while Chuck and Sarah sat side by side on the sofa. After handing everyone a cup and saucer, Gertrude perched on the left arm of Casey's chair, balancing on her hip. Casey reached an arm around her, holding her in place, one of the few signs of affection Casey ever showed his wife in front of others, even family.

"I went to Chuck's office this morning," Sarah began. "I wanted to apologize for leaving the way I did last night. I also came to tell him that I was going to go along with his idea." Gertrude's face pinched in dismay, but Sarah raised her hand, indicating there was more. "I couldn't bear the thought that Chuck was going to lose everything he had because of something my father did." Sarah turned to look at Chuck, her eyes wide and adoring, the smile on her face soft. "But Chuck didn't want us to pretend like that."

Her eyes glistened, but the smile never faded. "I had convinced myself a long time ago…that we could never be together, no matter how badly I wanted it. That was why I left like I did last night. How could I be in a pretend marriage with someone, when I had been dreaming about the real thing for as long as I knew how to dream? But it's real. We're getting married…for real."

"Oh, my goodness, what a whirlwind!" Gertrude exclaimed. "Just like that?"

"As romantic as this is, the clock is ticking for Burton Carmichael. We default on June production if we can't purchase raw materials by May 18," Chuck said crisply.

Gertrude looked ready to launch another tirade, her cheeks reddening as she listened to what she thought was sacrilege.

"That's not the reason we're getting married," Sarah offered quickly. "It's just why we're…getting married first and fast…dating afterwards," she added with a blush.

"I don't understand how this is different from what I talked to you about last night," Gertrude sputtered, crossing her arms angrily.

"The difference is we love each other," Chuck interjected, sitting forward as he emphasized his point. "Like you said," he addressed Gertrude, "It's what's in our hearts that matters."

Sarah leaned against Chuck, holding his arm with both of her hands. He smiled and kissed her forehead. Gertrude rushed forward, her fingers steepled in front of her mouth until she reached for them both, squeezing them together in a wide hug.

Minutes passed before Gertrude released them. When she did, she stepped back, smiling with wet eyes, and laid her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "I'd say welcome to the family, dear, but you've been part of this family since you were a little girl."

Chuck fought to hold back the tears that made his eyes sting, clenching his jaw so the emotional tremble was less pronounced.

"Thank you for that, Gertrude. You were always there when I needed you," Sarah replied, her voice cracking.

"All right, all right," Casey grumbled. "Quit blubbering all over them and let's hear the plan," he added, dismissive of the waterworks display.

"We…uh…we haven't really talked about anything specific. We were hoping to do that now, with you," Chuck explained. He looked at Sarah out of the corner of his eye, then addressed everyone. "We can get a marriage license tomorrow at City Hall. We could get married on Saturday." Sarah nodded along with him as he talked, assenting.

"That's all well and good, but don't you want a church wedding? A white dress and all of that?" Gertrude asked.

"We can do that later, when it feels right. We're still going to take things slow, since we never dated, like Sarah said. Right now I want to know that she's safe, here with us, away from Roxanne and Carina and the craziness of that house. The company will be safe while we date." And I'll have time to figure the rest of it out without worrying about every last thing all at once.

"That sounds…perfect, Chuck," Sarah said with a soft smile.

"I think it was the best possible outcome, given the cards you were dealt," Casey said practically. He flashed a smile quickly, then added with a smirk, "But I'm glad. It's about time we had some good news around here."

Still standing before them, Gertrude re-crossed her arms. "Charles Bartowski, you are taking this girl back to get her things out of Roxanne Miller's house for good. Tonight. Sarah can stay in the guest room. She and I are going shopping for new dresses. Then you can get your marriage license and book the justice of the peace."

"You want Sarah to stay here?" Chuck asked. It would have been mildly inappropriate for Sarah, as a friend, to stay with them; that had been the main reason why Sarah had gone to stay with Roxanne in the first place. If they were about to get married, it was downright scandalous.

When Chuck was a boy, Casey and Gertrude were his guardians. As an adult, technically, they were his hired help, at least to the outside world. Having Sarah stay in Chuck's home while they were engaged wasn't considered the same as a situation where Sarah stayed with Chuck's parents. To anyone who didn't know them personally, it appeared Chuck, a bachelor, was having an inappropriate overnight guest.

Casey and Gertrude understood the implications as well. Casey nodded. "In her future husband's home, with adult chaperones, even if they are just the hired help, is a whole heck of a lot more appropriate than staying in that whorehouse."

Appalled at his outburst, Gertrude gasped. "John Christopher Casey, you apologize for that foul-mouthed outburst this instant! Speaking that way about Sarah's friend. It's disgusting!"

Casey looked appropriately chastened. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," he mumbled quickly. "But there's nothing wrong in calling a spade a spade. How do you think that woman's paid her bills all this time? And she's enlisted that poor daughter of hers to boot."

Gertrude stomped her foot, gritting her teeth in fury. "If you don't have something nice to say, say nothing! I seem to recall Sister Nancy telling you that until she was blue in the face. She's rolling in her grave right now listening to you!"

Casey grunted, then mumbled below his breath, then committed to Gertrude's requested silence.

"I'm so sorry, dear," Gertrude said, her voice saccharine. "Inappropriate all the way around."

Chuck was befuddled, wondering what had prompted all of that, from the both of them, especially in the midst of their happy announcements. Sarah looked uncomfortable, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. He reached over and squeezed both of her hands to still them, offering his comfort.

"I meant it, Chuck." Gertrude said finally. "Take her to get her things. I'll get that room ready while you're gone," Gertrude insisted, gesturing for them to get going, shooing them out of the living room once they'd stood.

"Ok," Chuck conceded, taking Sarah's hand as they moved to the foyer.

They were out of Casey and Gertrude's earshot when Sarah whispered to him, close to his ear, "I'm not sure how he knew, but Casey was right."

"Right about what?" Chuck asked, taken aback.

"All of it. Including Carina." Lies and secrets.