A Hope Undaunted (52 page)
Her body stilled to stone, shock stealing everything – her breath, her pulse, her love.
God, no, please . . . his son?
The realization seared through her with a pain more cruel than anything she’d ever felt. Another woman had given him the son he craved, not her. The man of her heart, tethered to a woman he’d loved by a child who bound them forever. The agony was too much to bear and she staggered back, unable to see his grief for the tears in her eyes.
“Faith,” he whispered, “forgive me, please . . .”
She stared, his face a distorted blur of the man she loved. With another step back, her breath suddenly caught in her throat. Maybe . . . maybe it wasn’t true . . . Maybe it was just a lie to win her husband’s affection . . .
She felt him shudder, even two feet away. He seemed little more than a lost soul, shoulders slumped and eyes wandering into a blank stare, glazed with mourning. His arms, so strong and so able, now hung limp at his sides while his voice broke with repentance. “I didn’t know, not until tonight. Evelyn called to say it was time, and I . . . I swear, as God is my witness, I never suspected.”
“How, Collin?” she whispered. “How could it be?”
He closed his eyes, fingers kneading his temple and face weary with regret. “Before the war, when I was engaged to Charity, Evelyn came to Brannigan’s periodically, but I always avoided her because I knew she wanted to get back together, and I wasn’t interested. And then one night, I drank too much and passed out, a rare occurrence for a man who could hold his liquor.” His eyes flickered open. “But it was that night Charity found me with you, and I was so devastated by the pain I caused, that I drowned my troubles in the drink. I swear I hadn’t touched the stuff in almost six months. But it got the best of me, I guess, and when I passed out at the bar, Lucas hauled me into his back room to sleep it off. I didn’t know, but he told Evelyn I was back on his cot, despondent over a broken engagement.” He swallowed hard and looked away. “I swear I don’t even remember her slipping into my bed . . .”
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and the hurt was so sharp, she swayed on her feet. He reached for her then, his voice hoarse as he pulled her into his arms, clinging like a man drowning in a sea of anguish. “Forgive me, Faith – I’m sorry for the pain I’m causing you, but I can’t be . . . I won’t be . . . sorry about Tommy. He was everything I’d ever hoped for in a son . . .” She felt his heave against her chest as he tried to stifle a sob. “A boy like I’ve always dreamed – so smart, so witty, so strong. A good boy, like I used to be before my own father died. A boy with a deep faith in God . . . just like you. And I swear, Faith, from the moment I met him, I wished he were mine.”
His words pierced her, finally dislodging the bitterness from her soul. A deep faith in God.
Just like me.
With a harsh draw of breath, she fought off a shiver, begging God for the strength to do what she needed to do . . . what would be impossible for mere flesh and blood to do.
Help
me, God
, the thought came, and with it, she reached deep in her soul, clinging to that faith that would see her through. A faith that would carry her past this crisis with her husband . . . and then heal their souls when it was over and done.
He wept in her arms, and in one anguished sob, she swallowed him up with a love so fierce, their quivering shadow became as one. “Oh, Collin,” she cried, and their bodies clung as her sorrow melded with his. “I’m so sorry! And how I wish I could have met him.” She pressed in even closer. “Did he . . . know?”
His voice was a shell, hollow and still. “No, Evelyn never told him. Her husband Frank adored Tommy. He thought he was his, and Evelyn kept it that way.” Emotion thickened his voice. “I loved him, Faith, and I will never forget him.”
Grief and forgiveness swam in her eyes. “No, my love, and he will never forget you, a father in spirit and flesh when he needed it most. Come to bed, Collin, and take your rest. God’s Word says ‘weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.’”
“Joy . . .” he whispered, his voice an echo of pain, as if he could barely believe it possible.
“Yes, joy, my love,” she said, her voice as sure as the dawn. “The son of your heart is now whole and free, Collin, safe in the arms of our God . . .” She stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his sodden cheek. “Watching, no doubt, over his sisters, to keep them safe in their beds.” And with a steady hold to the bulk of her husband’s back, she took him to the sanctuary of their room.
To pray . . . to sleep . . . and to enter God’s rest.
Katie waved and flashed a smile. “Thanks, Meg. See you tomorrow.” She watched her new friend from Portia Law School pull away from the curb, the maroon paint of her daddy’s Model A roadster gleaming in the sun. Katie closed the door and drooped against it with a pile of textbooks in her arms. Her eyes wavered from the stack of mail on the foyer table to the empty parlor and back. The loneliness that had been her constant companion since Luke left over a month ago was as palpable as that of the empty house.
Eyes fixed on the mail, she moved forward like a woman toward a mirage, hope beating in her breast for something to quench this awful ache in her heart. Her breathing quickened as she unloaded her books on the table. She sifted through the letters and bills, fingers shaking with the need for his caress – a note, a letter, anything his hands had touched. The envelopes spilled from her palms back to the table, and she closed her eyes, her hope once again as dry and parched as the most brutal desert. The man she loved was no more than a mirage – his image ever-present and haunting, but as empty and out of reach as the love she’d hoped to have.
Tears pricked and she jerked her gloves and coat off, determined she would survive this final blow from the King of Misery. From start to finish, Cluny McGee had subjected her to pain, the ultimate strike being the joy he had given her and then taking it all away. Well, she vowed with an iron thrust of her chin, she would best the little brat once again. She’d move on with her plans and show him she didn’t care, get on with her life with or without him. She stared at her left hand, so naked without Jack’s ring, and her fury rekindled. The blasted street rat had even ruined that, robbing Katie of all desire to even be in another man’s arms. Oh, how she hated him! She shoved her gloves in her pockets, then hurled her coat on the rack before pressing a shaky hand to her eyes. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Oh, how she loved him . . .
Something clattered in the kitchen and Katie looked up. Steven had taken Mother and Father to the doctor and Gabe was spending the night with a friend – who in the world was here? She hurried to the kitchen and pushed through the door, jaw distended at the sight of her sisters. “What in blazes are you three doing?” she asked in a tone still tinged with anger at Luke.
“Nice to see you too, Katie Rose,” Charity quipped, her manicured brow arched high. “Bad day in the courtroom?” Katie shot her a narrow gaze. “Classroom, not courtroom, and I had a good day, why?”
Charity rolled her eyes and finished peeling a carrot. “Mmm, nothing.” She bent close to Lizzie and lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “Remind me to avoid her on bad days.”
“Ignore her, Katie,” Faith said with a smile. She opened the oven to peek in at three whole chickens roasting with potatoes in her mother’s turkey pan, then slammed it shut again.
Wonderful smells assailed Katie’s appetite, reminding her that she hadn’t been interested in lunch
again
– a frequent occurrence these days.
Faith opened a cabinet to retrieve a stack of plates. “She’s just giddy because she gets a night out while Mitch is saddled with the kids.”
“Amen to that!” Charity said, popping a carrot in her mouth. “Nothing like an evening with Henry – forcing him to do homework, take a bath, go to bed – to make the love of my life truly appreciate me.” She glanced at the clock and grinned. “You mark my words – come nine o’clock, the man will be prostrate at my feet.”
Katie folded her arms. “I’m ecstatic for you, Charity, but you haven’t answered my question. What are you three doing here?”
Worry deepened the violet hue of Lizzie’s eyes as she looked up from the bread she was kneading. “Sean thought it would be fun to surprise Mother and Father with a family dinner like we used to. You know, without all the husbands and kids? He thought it might lift their spirits.” Her tone was edged with concern. “And speaking of spirits, Katie, are you all right? You seem . . . depressed.”
Eager to avoid any probing, Katie tugged the stack of plates out of Faith’s hands and piled utensils on top. “Oh, I suppose I’m a little out of sorts because of breaking up with Jack, but nothing law school and baked chicken can’t cure.” She hurried toward the door, forcing a bright smile. “Goodness, eight in the dining room again and only six drumsticks – could get ugly.” She set the table, then returned to the kitchen where the conversation turned serious.
“How does Sean know they’re in dire straits?” Charity asked quietly. At the stove, she dropped her final carrots into a bubbling pot without a smile, her good humor appearing to evaporate along with the steam from the boiling water.
Faith sighed as she tossed flour into the chicken drippings that would soon be gravy. “He says Mother asked for help with the bills and bookkeeping after all this started with Father. Apparently most of their savings were in the stock market, and we all know what happened there. Without Father’s salary for three months and all the medical bills, it doesn’t look good.”
Expelling a soft blast of air, Charity returned to the table. “No, it doesn’t. And to make matters worse, Mitch says Mr. Hennessey is looking to cut staff. The paper’s profits have dropped dramatically.” Her lips twisted. “Imagine that – nobody wants to read bad news.”
“Nor able to afford it,” Katie said in a dry tone as she plopped into a chair. She paused, then squinted up at Charity. “You don’t think Father’s job is in danger, do you? Or Mitch’s?”
A sheen of moisture glimmered in Charity’s eyes before she whisked the bowl of peelings away. “I don’t know. All I do know is that Mitch was alarmed when Arthur commented about how one editor seemed to be working out just fine.” Charity turned at the sink with a sour smile on her lips. “Of course it’s working out fine – Mitch goes in at the crack of dawn and comes home after eight, totally exhausted. He’s been covering for Father for almost a month now. The poor man falls asleep brushing his teeth.”
“Goodness, then how did you get him home tonight to watch the kids?” Lizzie asked.
“I told him I’d make it worth his while,” Charity said with a wry twist of a smile. “I’ll let him sleep.”
Faith chuckled. “Land sakes, the man
must
be exhausted.”
Charity sighed. “No more than Collin and Brady, I suppose.” She wriggled her brows in Lizzie’s direction. “Although I imagine John Brady is pretty energetic these days now that the doctor has given you the go-ahead, eh, Lizzie?”
More color whooshed into Lizzie’s cheeks. “Charity, I swear you have a one-track mind. I wish your interest in you-know-what was a little more discreet. And Katie’s here too, so hush!”
“Katie’s all grown up now, Lizzie. I’m sure she understands perfectly well all about the pull between a man and a woman . . .” She arched a brow. “As well as you-know-what.”
“More like imperfectly,” Katie muttered.
Lizzie gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Jack, but the right one is out there for you somewhere.” She released a wistful sigh. “With all that Brady put me through, I never thought it would happen for me, but it did, and it will happen for you too – you’ll find the man of your dreams.”
Tears pricked Katie’s eyes.
Yeah, the man of my dreams
– too bad he’s married to somebody else.
She jumped to her feet. “Tea, anyone?”
“Yes!” Charity and Lizzie chimed in unison.
“Sounds good, Katie,” Faith said, her back to her sisters as she stirred the gravy at the stove. She gave Katie a sideways glance, and her smile faded enough for Katie to notice.
Turning away, Katie blinked to dispel the wetness in her eyes as she filled the kettle.
“But to be honest,” Lizzie continued, “since Evelyn left, both Collin and Brady are working the same kind of hours as Mitch, I’m afraid. And believe me, between that, a jealous two-year-old, and a little girl who likes to exercise her lungs throughout the night, it doesn’t leave much time nor energy for conjugal bliss.”
Katie pulled four cups and saucers from the cabinet and set them on the table. “Evelyn’s gone? When did that happen?”
“Last week,” Faith said quietly. She put the lid on the skillet of gravy and turned down the heat, then rejoined her sisters at the table. “Too many bad memories here in Boston, she said. She and her mother are moving in with her uncle in Maine, to live in a lighthouse, of all places.” A lump shifted in Faith’s throat. “Collin says Tommy would have loved living in a lighthouse.”
Charity squeezed Faith’s arm. “How’s Collin doing?”
A fragile sigh floated from Faith’s lips. “Better, I think. He’s been spending every waking hour at the shop or with the girls, of course, having breakfast with us in the morning, coming home for lunch and even dinner before going back to work with Brady.” She looked up with a sad smile. “Evelyn was a wonder in the office, apparently, and now the two of them are lost, trying to catch up on paperwork.” The kettle began to whistle, and Faith jumped up with a smile to steep the tea. “But not tonight, eh, Lizzie?”
Lizzie grinned. “Nope. It’s kind of fun having them close the shop early for once. I have a feeling after tangling with Teddy when he gets up from his nap, Brady will appreciate his presses all the more.”
Steam rose into the air as Faith poured everyone a cup. She fetched spoons, cream, and sugar, then sat down to sip her tea. “How does Father seem lately, Katie? Has he adjusted to life on the first floor without pipes, radios, or newspapers?”
Katie blew on her tea, then carefully sipped. “Pretty well, actually. Oh, he was bored as the devil the first few weeks, but after Sean repaired the pot-belly stove on the sun porch and Steven dragged all that old furniture up from the basement, Mother actually turned it into a cozy little den that Father seems to love. He’s been doing a lot of reading and writing out there, even working on some editorials for Mitch here and there. Not to mention teaching Gabe how to write. They work together almost every day, and believe it or not, Gabe’s grades in English have gone through the roof.”
