“Father, either, apparently,” Charity said with a slant of a smile, “given the fact he’s making her wait until she’s out of law school.”
“
If
she waits.” Faith sniffed her tea, soaking in the sweet aroma of lavender. “Knowing Katie, she’ll manage to harass him until he gives in.” She folded her arms and leaned against the counter as she waited for the kettle to boil. “I just wish Katie had fallen for someone like Luke McGee, a man with a heart for God and the strength to stand up to her. Not always let her have her own way like Jack does. But as we all know – Katie
is
Katie, the hardest head in the lot.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “Like I said, God bless Patrick O’Connor.”
“Oops, I forgot the milk and sugar – ” Lizzie bounced up.
Charity clamped a hand to her arm. “No, sit – I’ll get them. I swear you’re wearing me out just watching you. Being seven months pregnant is bad enough, but running after an overactive toddler to boot, no wonder you look so tired.”
“Thanks, sis,” Lizzie said with a weary smile. “We were up at four on Sunday morning and – ” She shot a nervous look at both of her sisters, then gnawed on her lip and looked away. Color rose in her cheeks as she rubbed her swollen stomach. “Uh . . . I mean this little ruffian has been getting me up at the crack of dawn with its kicking and rolling.”
“Four a.m.? Sounds like its father,” Faith said with a dry smile. “Collin says Brady still gets to the shop by six in the morning, even with the extra help they hired.” The teakettle whistled, and she snatched it up with a lift of her brow, proceeding to pour them each a cup. “Not that my husband would know, mind you, as he tends to roll in by nine.”
Charity placed three spoons on the table, along with milk and sugar. “Likes to sleep in, does he?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
Faith tossed a pot holder on the table and set the kettle on top. She slid into her chair and gave Charity a patient smile. “Yes, but trust me, sleep is the operative word. Lately that man has been too tired to do much of anything else.”
Both of her sisters blinked. Charity leaned forward, one hand pressed to the table. “Collin McGuire? Too tired to try for a boy? What, has he given up his quest for a son?”
“No, he still wants a son, but he’s been too tired to think about it like before. He works late almost every night, and even some Saturdays.”
Charity eyed her over the rim of her cup. “With . . . Evelyn?”
A sigh parted from Faith’s lips as she took a sip of her tea. “Sometimes. But I actually think that may be some of the reason he’s not so driven about having a son anymore. You see, Evelyn has a sick boy that Collin has met a few times, and I think he . . . well, I think he feels drawn to this boy, protective of him.”
Charity’s cup met her saucer with a sharp clink. “You don’t think the boy could be – ”
“No! No, I don’t. In fact, it’s impossible. The boy is thirteen and Collin hasn’t . . .” Heat stung her cheeks and she took a quick gulp of tea. “Well, he hasn’t been . . . close to her in almost twenty years. So, it’s not that.”
Lizzie stirred cream into her tea with a pucker of concern. “You’re not worried that it could be an attachment to Evelyn that’s driving him, are you?”
Uncomfortable with the conversation, Faith jumped to her feet and hurried to the cabinet. She pulled a plate out and proceeded to fill it with cookies from Lizzie’s ceramic cookie jar. “No, of course not. Collin has always had a big heart, especially when it comes to children who can’t fend for themselves. I think this little guy has just won his affection, that’s all.” She set the cookies on the table and took a deep breath. “Besides, I trust my husband.”
Charity shoved a cookie in her mouth. “I wish I did,” she said with cheeks bulging.
“You don’t trust Mitch?” Lizzie’s tone bordered on shock.
“Oh, I trust him all right – to be a man. I mean, I love my husband, you all know that, but let’s face it, Mitch Dennehy is a bona fide bully. Even though the kids are in school every day and I have nothing to do, he has this antiquated notion – along with Collin, I might add – that women shouldn’t work. So while Emma’s overloaded with work at the store, what do I do? I stay home day after day and twiddle my thumbs . . .” Her eyes narrowed considerably. “While Mitch keeps me under his.”
“He won’t let you help Emma for even a few hours a day?”
Charity’s jaw angled up. “Absolutely not. Says his children need a mother, not a woman with a career – case closed.” She slumped back in the chair and sulked with a pout. “I’ll tell you what, if I had known what a tyrant he’d be, I would have thought twice about saying yes.”
Faith couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure you would have. Face it, sis – that man had you so lovesick you were nothing but a pile of mush. You thought twice all right – ‘yes, I’ll marry you,’ and ‘yes, I’ll marry you tomorrow.’”
Her pout tilted into a sheepish grin. “I know. He’s lucky I’m so crazy about him or I’d go at him with both barrels blazing. As it is, I’m biding my time and wearing him down day by day so he has no idea that I’m actually going to win this battle. And don’t think I don’t have devices to get my way with an amorous man like Mitch Dennehy, because I do. And then we’ll see just who has whom under their thumb.” A sultry smile surfaced on her lips as she wiggled her brows with a gleam in her eyes. “Although I must admit . . . there are times I rather enjoy being under his.”
“Well, that certainly won’t be Katie’s problem,” Lizzie said quickly, obviously hoping to steer the conversation into a safer direction. “Jack seems pretty content to give Katie whatever she wants, as far as I can see. She told me he’s letting her have her way on everything – when they get married, how they get married, and even where they’ll live after.” Lizzie sighed and took a sip of her tea. “Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think I could be happy in a marriage like that. Brady is so solid and strong and wise, that I just naturally defer to him.”
Charity’s lips skewed into a dry smile. “That’s because you have as many stars in your eyes as I do in mine, Lizzie.”
Faith tasted her tea and wrinkled her nose. “Yes, well, we all know there’s a lot more to a marriage than stars in your eyes.”
“Easy for you to say,” Charity said with a jut of her brow. She leaned in, elbows flat on the table. “You could blind somebody with that constellation blazing in yours whenever Collin enters a room, same as Lizzie and me. But the truth is, I see nothing flickering in Katie’s eyes but burning ambition. Have you noticed how she always shoos Jack away when he hovers over her, trying to hug her or hold her hand? Sweet mother of Job, if Mitch pulled his nose from the grindstone long enough to fawn over me like that, I would die a happy woman.”
“Not everybody is as needy as you, Charity,” Faith said with a squirm of her lips. “Katie’s a lot more private, so maybe she’s just not comfortable with Jack’s displays of affection in front of the family.”
“Maybe,” Charity said with a tilt of her head, “but I have this sinking feeling deep down inside that Jack may not be the man that Katie needs. Call me a hopeless romantic if you will, but I think we need to pray about this engagement daily and often, before this ship sails.” One brow shot up. “Or something tells me this is one marriage that could very well hit the rocks.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Lizzie said quietly. “And Brady does too.”
Faith pursed her lips as her gaze flicked from Charity to Lizzie and back, disappointed that she hadn’t thought of it herself. She scooted her chair in and clasped her hands on the table, giving Charity a slatted look that held both tease and approval. “I just hate it when you’re right.”
Katie shifted on the love seat. Her legs were stiff and sore from stockinged feet tucked beneath her for well over an hour now. A quiet sigh rose and fell in her chest. She honestly hadn’t thought it would be this difficult. She glanced at Luke’s chiseled profile as he sat with Gabe in his lap, their eyes focused on the chessboard before them, and her heart did its usual annoying flip. If she had taken the time to realize Gabe living here would bring Luke to visit, she would have rethought the whole idea.
She watched his thick arms twine around the little girl as he moved his pawn, then she flipped another page in her
Harper’s Bazaar
with a tight press of her lips. The clock on the mantel chimed nine, and relief oozed like balm to her aching limbs. The evening had finally come to an end – Gabe’s bedtime! Her expectant gaze flitted from her father, whose grim concentration told her he hadn’t noticed the time, to her mother, beatific as she knitted a sweater for Gabe. Katie ground her jaw in frustration.
Go home, Luke McGee, and leave me alone.
She unfolded her legs and lumbered to her feet with a grimace. Maybe she could move this along. “Anybody need a drink?” she asked sweetly. She slipped her shoes back on and glanced at the clock. “Oh . . . maybe not. Look at the time – it’s nine.”
“Mmm . . .” Her father said without looking up.
“No, thanks, dear,” her mother quipped with a smile.
“I’ll have a root beer,” Gabe volunteered.
“No root beer,” Patrick said, eyes glued to the board.
Katie sighed. She stared at the Greek god with the child in his lap and narrowed her eyes, noting only silence from the thorn in her side.
Katie plunked back down on the love seat and wished she could go to bed, but the “thorn” had made that rather prickly as well. And what good would it do? She’d only stare at the ceiling, sick to her stomach over her gnawing guilt for leading him on. She jerked the
Harper’s Bazaar
open once again and began at the beginning, staring at pages she really didn’t see.
Her jaw hardened. Could she help it if the man raced her heart like a jog in the park? Caused more flutters inside than a flock of hummingbirds? It wasn’t her fault he’d kissed her in the first place, was it? Not the first time . . . nor the second . . . nor even the third or fourth. She closed her eyes, and the memory of each and every kiss flashed through her mind like a summer heat wave. Heaven help her, even ten feet away with a child in his lap, the man could heat her blood to a simmer. She put a hand to her eyes, shame warring with attraction as it flamed in her cheeks, then released a breath that merged with a shudder. And each and every time she had responded by returning his affection with a passion she had never even shown Jack. Her breathing thinned to a tenuous thread. It had to stop – all of it.
The heat of attraction.
The cold slither of guilt.
His subsequent indifference which was clearly
Luke
warm. Her lips bent in irony. No, she had to stay up tonight, if only to talk to him one more time, clear the air so she could clear her life. A dozen times she’d tried before she’d left the BCAS, but he’d made sure they were never alone, never made eye contact, never gave her the chance to tell him how sorry she was.
“Checkmate!” Patrick leaned back in his chair with all the smug satisfaction of a miser who’d recounted his money. “And that, young man and young lady,” he said with a splayed hand to his chest, “is how a doddering old fool regains his pride.” He rose to his feet with a smile on his face. “Gabriella Dawn Smith, your bed awaits.”
“But I’m not tired,” she whined with a clutch to Luke’s arm, “and besides, Luke promised checkers.”
Patrick adjusted his vest and gave her the eye. “People without children promise a lot of things, young lady, all stemming from woeful inexperience and a desire to appease. None of which,” he said with emphasis, “you will find here.” He glanced at his wife as she worried her lip, and a heavy sigh prompted a heave of his chest. “At least, not on
this
side of the room.”
Gabe spun around. “Mrs. O’Connor – please, it’s only a little after nine. Can’t I please play a quick game of checkers with Luke,
please
?”
Luke nudged Gabe from his lap and started to rise. “Gabe, no – ”
“Now, Patrick, thirty more minutes won’t matter, will it?” Marcy’s eyes registered a plea.
Katie watched the familiar rise of her father’s shoulders, the set of his jaw, the flex of fingers that twitched at his sides – all signs of a storm brewing she’d seen a million times before.
“The girl is tired, Marcy . . . ,” Patrick began.
“No! I’m not – ”
A firm hand gripped Gabe’s shoulder as Patrick gave her a tight smile. “
Yes.
You
are
.” His words were pinched, like his hold on Gabe. “Aren’t you?”
Katie hid a smile as Gabe’s lips flattened into a hard line – not unlike her father’s at the moment – then folded her arms with a thinning of eyes. “I suppose.”
“Good, because I have to leave anyway,” Luke said. He shoved his chair in, and more relief exuded from Katie’s pores. “Great game, Mr. O’Connor. I hope for a rematch sometime.”
“No!” Katie groaned, which earned her one of the few glances Luke had spared her all night. Heat flooded her cheeks.
Did I really say that out loud?
“Will I see you soon?” Gabe asked, hope brimming in her eyes.
Luke ruffled her hair with a tender smile. “’Fraid not, Gabe. Remember the orphan train that almost stole you away? There’s another this week, which means long hours and not much sleep.”
Spindly arms clutched Luke tight around the middle. “Rats! Oh, well, I love you, Luke – thanks for everything.”
He chucked her on the chin. “Don’t thank me, thank the O’Connors.” His gaze flitted to Katie a second time, causing her heart to flip. “Especially, Katie. Without her, you’d be chugging along to the Midwest right about now with ten other orphans.”
Gabe spared Katie a faint smile from the folds of Luke’s Oxford bags. “Thanks, Katie.”
“My pleasure, sweetie.” Katie flipped her magazine on the love seat and rose with a stretch. She buffed her arms out of nervous habit. “It’ll be nice to have somebody to snuggle with when the weather gets cold, won’t it?”
A puckish grin lit Gabe’s face. “Yeah, especially if it’s Luke.”
Katie blinked.
Oh, my!
“Gabe!” A wave of scarlet splotched the back of Luke’s neck.
Katie’s too, only it traveled clear up to her bangs and beyond.