A Passion Most Pure (40 page)

Dinner had been pleasant enough, although Grandmother's usually chatty self was conspicuously absent. Katie had seemed especially geared up with the presence of an older male in the house once again. And Mima, of course, always enjoyed taking her dinner with the family when she felt up to it. It was one of the few joys she was afforded, and no more so than in the company of Mitch. He was as charming and warm as her sister had said, and his easy banter and teasing eyes had focused on each person around the table, especially Faith.

The memory of that night stirred a familiar knot of jealousy in Charity's stomach. She exhaled a heavy sigh. When it came to her sister, it was certain to be a chronic condition, she decided, despite the persistent prayers of her grandmother.

She tossed the last of the carrots into the pot and turned her attention to the unfinished bread. Pushing the dough with the heel of her hand, she thought of Mitch. She whacked the bread with several hard punches. How had her sister ever managed to attract the attention of someone like him? Faith would have never stood a chance, Charity assured herself, if she'd seen him first.

He seemed to care about her sister, she noticed, although he kept his distance. He seldom held her hand and never touched her. Whether out of respect for her family or out of fear of her sister's moral mandate, Charity wasn't quite sure. But one thing Charity was sure of-Mitch Dennehy was no different than the scores of men who had been mesmerized by her beauty. A fact in which she took great pleasure, and one confirmed by the way he avoided her eyes.

Marcy and Bridget interrupted her thoughts as they returned from the backyard, winter vegetables in hand and chatting about the summer garden they hoped to put in.

Marcy looked up. "Where's Faith?"

Charity told her as Katie and Steven shot through the door, squabbling over some toy Steven insisted Katie had stolen.

"Katie, so help me, if you've been into Steven's things again, young lady, you'll have dinner in your room."

Katie stopped dead in her tracks. "Mama, no! Mitch is coming."

"Mother, she took my best marble. My aggie."

Her mother stared hard at Katie, who for once had no defense, seeing as the marble was clenched tightly in her little fist. "Katie Rose, I cannot believe you would defy me after I specifically warned you to stay away from your brother's things. That's it, young lady, upstairs."

The wailing started, but not before Katie screamed that she hated her brother and hurled the precious aggie across the room. It ricocheted, barely missing her grandmother. Her mother swung into action, sweeping Katie up in her arms with a resolute look.

"Mama, I'm sorry! Please, I'll be good. . . "

Marcy's eyes burned hot as she carried Katie from the room, quite horizontal and quite distressed. "Mother, would you mind checking on Mima to make sure this hasn't upset her? You know how she can't bear to hear Katie scream."

Bridget nodded and hurried to Mima while Steven crawled on the floor in search of his marble. He whooped when he found it and jumped up with a look of supreme satisfaction. "Good as new!" he breathed, polishing it on his knickers. "I hope Mama gives it to her good."

I don't think you have to worry about that," Charity said. She grimaced at the sound of Katie's screams reverberating through the house.

The doorbell interrupted and Charity glanced at the clock, butterflies flitting in her stomach-six o'clock! Right on time. She frowned, irritated that someone so habitually late could be on time to see her sister. She hurried into the foyer and glimpsed into the hall mirror, quite satisfied with the breathless girl who stared back. The gold in her hair glinted as it cascaded over her shoulders in soft, loose curls, and her eyes were truly a striking blue, even more remarkable than Mitch's own. Charity pinched the creamy skin above her cheekbones to enhance the already soft blush that was there, then pursed her full lips together in a skillful smile. She opened the door and draped against it, hands behind her resting on the knob. She savored the way his smile faded as his eyes raked her. "You're not supposed to be punctual," she said.

"Says who?"

"My sister."

"Do you believe everything your sister says?" he asked, striding into the hall.

"Of course not." She closed the door and turned to see him studying her. His eyes shifted away. She smiled.

"Will you tell Faith I'm here?"

She nodded and strolled toward the staircase, careful to brush his arm as she passed. She looked up the stairs and yelled for her sister.

Mitch laughed. "I could have done that."

Charity turned to face him. "I don't doubt you can do a good many things," she whispered. She knew she'd caught him off guard when he flushed. He stared at her, his eyes narrowing as if he didn't know what to make of her.

"I can at that. What, no date tonight?" His gaze locked on hers as he slowly took off his coat and held it out for her.

She shook her head, fully aware her pale gold curls shimmered with the motion. She took his coat and idly fingered the soft material. "Not tonight. Too tired."

"From fending them off?" he asked, a dangerous smile on his lips.

She laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see you-"

"Mitch!"

They both turned. Faith stood on the landing, beaming like the sun. "I can't believe you're on time! You've got my internal clock all thrown off." She scampered down the steps. "Hungry?"

He grinned, seemingly oblivious that Charity was still in the room. "That depends on what you're serving," he teased. Faith blushed and led him into the parlor.

Charity could hear them laughing as she entered the kitchen, and the sound of it blackened her mood. Maybe she would eat in her room along with Katie. Watching him with her sister was too unsettling, she thought, then changed her mind midstream. No, she was close; she could feel it. He was attracted to her, she knew it deep down inside. It was just a matter of time before she could return the favor her sister had paid her. Charity reached into the pot on the stove and popped a carrot in her mouth. Who said revenge wasn't sweet? The thought brought a smile to her lips that carried her through the evening.

Mitch wasn't exactly sure what to do. He was elated, of course-it was summer, and they were finally engaged. Everything was almost perfect. But it was the "almost" that bothered him, a condition that had nothing to do with Faith and everything to do with her sister.

From the moment he had laid eyes on Charity O'Connor, he knew he had never seen a more beautiful woman, and something in that assessment produced a guilt that annoyed him greatly. He had done nothing wrong, he told himself, except admire the beauty of his fiancee's sister. And yet, inside, Mitch felt uneasy.

As much as he would have liked to, he knew he couldn't discuss it with Faith. Over the months he had known her, he quickly learned of the intense rivalry between the two, a rivalry that had already inflicted too much pain on the woman he loved. No, he would never even mention it to her. He wouldn't if he could. He didn't doubt he could explain the concern he felt that her sister might be flirting with him. But how could he ever let on about the desire she provoked in him every time she did?

Mitch dragged his fingers through his hair. Blast it all, it was one thing to stop seeing other women now that he had Faith, but it was something else altogether when the temptation was right under your nose, so close-and so willing-you could almost touch it.

Mitch sighed. There had been a time when he might have welcomed this-the rival affections of two pretty sisters, but the notion did little to thrill him now. He loved Faith, he knew it. He didn't relish the thought of anything interfering with a long engagement that would keep him at bay longer than he could handle. For pity's sake, it was almost July. They'd been seeing each other for six months now, and only God knew when the war would end and they could be married. He worried celibacy would take its toll, and that her sister was more than well aware of it. Something told him these sisters didn't share the same beliefs, a suspicion that made him skittish as a cat whenever Charity was around.

He glanced quickly at the clock and sighed. Well, there was little time to dwell on it now. He was to pick Faith up in an hour and didn't want to be late. He couldn't worry about it; he would simply have to take it one day at a time. After all, each day had enough trouble of its own. He smiled at the Scripture that came to mind. It didn't surprise him; Faith filled his ears with Scriptures a lot lately, all lovingly extracted from the now dog-eared Bible Mrs. Gerson had compelled her to take when she'd left Boston. Although he'd always believed, he'd never felt close to God until he saw him through Faith's eyes. There were times now that he even found himself occasionally reading the Bible she had given him, and with little or no prompting from her. He closed his eyes. What was the rest of that verse?

Be not therefore anxious for the morrow: for the morrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Mitch opened his eyes and smiled. That Bible said a mouthful.

Collin was shell-shocked. Not so much from the war, which had been raging around him for months now, but more from the letter he held in his hands while lying on his bunk in the dark. He heard Brady's quiet snoring beneath him as he stared into the rafters of the billet they shared, and knew sleep would not come easily tonight.

Charity's letter had been light and breezy, as always, filled with the adventures she enjoyed in her job or Katie's antics. She was always good about passing on news of Patrick and Sean, whenever their letters were received. He could tell she worked hard at sounding cheerful, something he needed after days buried in a trench reeking of urine and sweat and fear.

But he hadn't expected this, and he laid there, a numbness settling in his brain as he realized what it meant. Faith was engaged, Charity had written in a brief paragraph tagged on at the end of the letter, almost as an afterthought. His name was Mitch, and they planned to marry as soon as the war was over because Faith wanted her family together. The words had stunned, and he found himself reading them again and again, as if he couldn't comprehend their meaning. He closed his eyes, and her face swam before him, along with the memory of her words.

"You are something, Collin McGuire. All you think about, care about is your desire for the moment. Well, I want more, much more. I'm looking for something you don't seem to know a lot about-genuine love, like the kind between my parents. And yes, Collin, the kind of love where God is at the center. That's the only thing I'm going to settle for, and I guarantee it'll have more passion than you'll know in a lifetime. "

"1 doubt that, " he had sneered. "And who's gonna give you this passionate love-God?"

"Someone will ... someone who loves God as much as I do. I'm saving it for him, Collin. All the passion you provoke in me, it all belongs to him, wherever he is. "

Her words circled in his brain like a drunken dizzy spell, making him sick. The passion that belonged to him had finally slipped through his fingers. The same passion that had gotten him through the last month since Brady convinced him he could have her. Now, someone else would have it. The realization was like a knife in his chest. He would have given anything at the moment for one of those mind-numbing drunks he had so readily given up. And for what? So another man could have the only woman he had ever loved. The old anger at God flared as he stared up, his eyes burning with fury. "What good have you done me?" he whispered bitterly. "I give you my life, and you take away the only thing worth living for. What am I supposed to do?"

Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.

"She is the desire of my heart!" he hissed. He heard Brady rustle in the bunk below. Collin squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember exactly what Brady had said. Something about delighting yourself in God and seeking him first. That when you did, your desires became one with his, and he gladly gave them to you. Unfortunately, Collin had learned that too late. He had spent his whole adult life seeking his own desires-in alcohol and women-and in the end, it had been nothing more than a chasing after the wind.

Collin vaulted off his bunk and bent in to where Brady slept, reaching for the Bible he always kept by his side. He clutched it to his chest and hurried outside the billet, the moonlight cutting shadows around him like the noon of day. His fingers fumbled the pages in a rush, seeking the Scripture he had read before his last shift in the trenches. His hand stilled as he found it, and for the first time, he understood its meaning with frightening clarity.

"For he giveth to a man that is good in his sight wisdom, and knowledge, and joy; but to the sinner he giveth travail to gather and to heap up, that he may give to him that is good in God's sight. This also is vanity and pursuit of the wind."

The verse pierced his heart. Overwhelming grief brought him to his knees in the dirt. He didn't care who might see or who might hear. He had spent his whole life chasing after the wind, and it had never yielded anything more than emptiness that blustered cold in his heart. No more, he thought. It was over. The life he led was over, and with God's help, a new one would begin. He had allowed the prayers of Faith and Brady to go forth on his behalf but had never uttered them himself. And looking up into the heavens, he cried out to their God, and in the instant it took for him to speak, that God became his. Like the shaft of moonlight washing over him, a holy peace flooded his soul. For the first time, he understood the fervor he'd seen in Faith, the peace he saw in Brady, and he was filled with awe. Every conversation he'd ever had with Brady convinced him he would never be happy until the desire of his heart was one with God's, just like Faith had said. Only, his heart had heard it too late to have her.