“Mmm . . . and they still close at ten, do they?”
She picked at her nails. “Um, yes, of course, but Jack took all the others home first . . .”
“Yes, I see your dilemma, then. A ten-thirty curfew – not near enough time for sodas and rides . . . or a friendly chat in the car.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Father, really! We were only talking.”
Her father tapped his pipe and then laid it aside. He shifted in the moonlight that spilled through the window. His handsome face was obscured by shadows, but she sensed his annoyance in the steely blade of his tone. “I may be fifty-one years old, Katie Rose, but I’m not ancient. I know exactly how much ‘chatting’ goes on in the front seat of a car.” He released a weighty breath and patted the wide arm of his chair. “Come, sit a spell, darlin’, will ya?”
Katie groaned and plodded in, quite certain this was one late-night “chat” she wanted to avoid. She took great pains to perch on the very edge of the chair, but her father’s solid arm had a mind of its own and scooped her close to his side. She finally relented and leaned against his broad chest. The scent of musk soap and tobacco filled her senses with the warmth and safety of home. She sighed in reluctant surrender. “I’m sorry, Father. I’ll try harder next time.”
The rise and fall of his chest indicated a sigh followed by that low chuckle that always brought a smile to her lips. In a rush of love, she turned and clutched him tightly, the distress of the evening merging with her need to be held. As always, his arms did not disappoint. He gave her a fierce hug, and she closed her eyes to savor his husky laughter, warm against her ear.
“I forgive you, Katie Rose, and I love you more than I can say.”
Relief rushed through her like an ocean swell.
Forgiven!
No stern lectures? No confinement to the house? No ridiculous curfews? She closed her eyes.
Thank goodness!
“Which is why I’m compelled to do what I have to do.”
Her eyelids flipped open.
“Apparently curfews and confinement don’t carry the impact I hoped they would, young lady, so I’ve decided to lend them some assistance.”
She jerked out of his embrace. “Assistance?” she said with a hoarse gasp. “You mean in
addition to
curfews and confinement?”
Patrick O’Connor struggled to maintain a serious demeanor. Which wasn’t easy. The horrified look on his daughter’s face begged to release the squirm of his lips to a fullfledged grin, but he tightened his jaw to fight the impulse. For what was surely the hundredth time in his life, Patrick wondered why the Almighty had chosen their most strongwilled child to be born last of all their six children, at a time when his and Marcy’s energy was sorely depleted by age and exhaustion. The irony of it baffled him, forcing a tired breath through his lips. He was certain that Katie was responsible for more of the gray hair that glinted at his temples than his two sons and other three daughters put together. He thought of Charity, his second daughter whose stubborn streak rivaled his own. Yes, she had been difficult, no question. But it was Katie who’d been the true handful right out of the gate. He had a suspicion that Katie had been destined to be a difficult child – Marcy’s horrendous morning sickness certainly confirmed that, as had Katie’s arrival into the world a month and a half early. That event had prompted a constant vigil of prayer from sibling and parent alike that their listless infant would garner the will to live.
The will to live
, he thought with a twist of his lips.
Mmm
. . . and then some.
He released a weary sigh. Perhaps their prayers had been too diligent in those early months, for if Katie Rose had been blessed with anything, it was an iron will. A frown creased his brow. A will that had spent the last eighteen years butting heads with his own.
He inhaled a deep breath and slowly released it, lifting his chin to meet hers. “Yes, Katie Rose,
in addition to
. You and I both know you’ve never been good at following orders, and unless I want God to take me to task for not reining you in, I have a responsibility to teach you a valuable lesson.”
With a lift of his fingers, he gently cupped her chin. “Your mother and I love you, darlin’, but neither the world nor this family revolves around you, no matter how much you would like them to. There is a sequence of order and authority to be obeyed, beginning with God, the law, and then your parents. Consequently, your curfew will now be ten until you prove you are responsible enough to follow orders. In addition, your confinement begins tonight for the next two and a half months, and maybe the entire summer if you choose to defy me further. No dates with Jack, no gallivanting with friends, no shopping with your sisters. Nothing but church, family, and volunteer work.”
“What?”
The gasp from her colorless lips was little more than a hoarse shriek. Her face bleached as white as the expanse of her eyes. “You can’t be serious. Jack will die!”
Patrick chuckled. “No, darlin’, he won’t. I guarantee he will survive, and hopefully be a little more inclined to get you home on time.”
Her groan conveyed her life was over as she dropped her face in her hands. “But, I’ll go crazy! What’ll I do?”
He smiled and rubbed her shoulder. “That’s where the volunteer work comes in.”
Her head shot up, and her blue eyes circled in shock. “Volunteer work? You’re joking.”
He studied the look of scandalized panic on his daughter’s face and knew he was doing the right thing. He had prayed long and hard for something that would save her from herself, a chance to curb that headstrong will of hers with a gentle dose of humility. He stared at the precious daughter before him, and a profound sense of satisfaction pervaded his soul, confirming to his spirit once and for all that
this
was it. “No, darlin’, I’m not.”
“But where? When?”
He avoided her eyes. “The Boston Children’s Aid Society.”
“An orphanage?”
“Yes, an orphanage, darlin’, and more. The BCAS is an organization that reaches out to those not as fortunate as you. Tell me, Katie, when you’re out slumming with friends, have you even noticed the children on the street? Those dressed in rags or sleeping in doorways? Well, they’re there, and they need help.” He sat up straighter in the chair and squared his jaw. “And
you’re
going to give it to them. Both at the BCAS
and
its associate organizations, the Boston Society for the Care of Girls and the Massachusetts Infant Asylum.”
“God, have mercy.” Katie pressed a shaky hand to her chest, appearing about to faint.
“You’ll actually be working in the main office most of the time,” Patrick quickly reassured. “You know, paperwork, filing, typing, whatever they need.” He hesitated. “You’ll only work with the children when they need backup.”
She groaned again, face buried in her hands. “How often and how long?” she whispered.
He shifted in the chair and stalled, suddenly wondering if he had gone too far. “Five days a week.” His tone was barely audible.
She blasted from the chair as if her hair were on fire, and he wasn’t all that sure that her eyes weren’t – they cauterized him on the spot despite the dim lighting. “No!” she screamed, hands fisted at her sides. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me!”
Patrick rose to his feet, feeling the need to intimidate with his full six-foot-two height. He straightened his tense shoulders for the task at hand and narrowed his eyes. “I can, Katie Rose, and I will. That is, if you ever want to see Jack again.”
A gasp sputtered from her lips. “You wouldn’t!”
Patrick’s jaw hardened. “Don’t tempt me, darlin’. You may have designs on that boy, but they don’t exactly match mine. He’s hardly a good influence.” He scanned the length of her, his lips tightening at the sight of rolled hose just below her short skirt and powdered knees. “Picture shows and sodas are one thing, Katie Rose, but as the father of a young woman not inclined to follow my lead, I worry about other things with a boy like Jack. Things like speakeasies and petting parties, for instance. So help me, if I ever catch wind of anything like that, you won’t be seeing that boy – or any other – ever again.”
“Mother will never agree to this – ” Her voice was a threat.
“She already has, young lady. As the baby of the family, I know you think you have your mother wrapped around your little finger, but I assure you that in this case, we are in sound agreement. And quite frankly, both of us think you could do with some time apart from Jack.”
Even in the moonlight, he spied color staining her cheeks. She jutted her chin, eyes glittering with defiance. “Don’t force me to see him behind your back, Father.”
He took a step forward, meeting her jaw to jaw. “And don’t force me to withdraw all funds for law school, darlin’. That would be a real shame.”
As if paralyzed on the spot, she stared, her shock evident in the glaze of her eyes and the bloodless pallor of her lips. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Y-you w-wouldn’t . . .”
The sight of her pain twisted his heart, and he reached to tug her close, ignoring the angry stiffness of her body. “I wouldn’t want to, Katie, but I would have no choice.” Patrick pulled back to look into her eyes. “I want to give you law school, darlin’, I do – desperately. Certainly a woman with your keen mind and sense of purpose was meant for such a path, if ever a woman was. But I can’t honor you with God’s blessings if you choose to defy us, nor can I stand by and allow your disobedience to impede all future blessings he hopes to give. And it will, Katie Rose, make no mistake.”
She started to cry and he handed her his handkerchief before tucking her against his chest. “Now, now, darlin’, it’s only a summer, not a lifetime, after all. My good friend Harris Stowe is on the board of directors, and he tells me it’s the ideal opportunity for any young person aspiring to be a lawyer. So, try to think of it as preparation for law school, if you will, a kind of internship, eh? You’ll be working with lawyers while you’re there, what with adoptions and whatnot, so you may find you like it.”
She sniffed and peered up, her tone nasal and waterlogged. “If I don’t die of embarrassment first.” She blew her nose soundly, then swiped at her eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to do it since you’ve left me no choice, but I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.”
Patrick pulled her close and stroked her hair with the palm of his hand, his thoughts flitting to the Boston Children’s Aid Society. A smile surfaced on his lips that he was glad she couldn’t see.
No, you have no idea at all, my little mule
of a daughter,
he thought to himself with a quiet sigh.
And
heaven help them, neither do they.
Cluny McGee? Coming for dinner? Isn’t he in prison?” Katie pulled a tray of dinner rolls from the oven and set it on the soapstone counter. The scent of fresh-baked bread filled her mother’s spacious kitchen, watering her mouth and rumbling her stomach. Her lips kinked at the not-so-gentle reminder that she’d been too distracted to eat. At least, not since last night when Father had unveiled his diabolical plan to ruin her life. She flipped the oven door closed and turned, giving her family a wry smile. “Or is he out on parole?”
A chuckle parted from the lips of her older sister, Charity, whose twinkle in her blue eyes matched the glint of gold in her finger-waved bob. She awarded Katie with a cheeky grin that made her look more like ten years old than twenty-nine. “Ooooo . . . good one, Katie Rose. You never did like that little rascal, did you?”
Katie’s lips squirmed to the right. “Nope. And ‘little’ is certainly the operative word. Little brat . . . big pest. Dear Lord, I hope he’s changed.”
“Hey, you two, go easy on the poor guy.” Twenty-four-year-old Lizzie turned at the stove to focus on her sisters, her attention momentarily diverted. Pretty hairpins kept her short, chestnut curls off of her face as she mashed the potatoes. A fine sheen of steam misted her cheeks with a rosy glow. She bit her lip, as if warding off a grin, and then smoothed one hand over her pregnant stomach. “I’ll have you know that not only is that ‘little brat’ now a lawyer, but he’s anything but ‘little’ anymore.”
Katie parked a hand on her hip, and the action puckered the low waist of her pale green shift. “A lawyer, huh? Well, good for him. Now he’s legal
and
obnoxious.”
“Goodness, what do you have against the poor kid anyway?” her oldest sister Faith asked. “Like Lizzie said, he’s all grown up now, and from what I hear, you won’t even recognize him.” Bending to retrieve a bottle of milk from the icebox, she proceeded to pour six glasses, then pushed a loose strand of her short, auburn bob away from her green eyes. The youthful glow in her cheeks belied her true age of thirty-one. “Mother, are the kids eating out on the porch?”
Marcy O’Connor glanced over her shoulder while draining bacon grease from a skillet into a stone crock. Her new, stylish blond bob, coaxed by her daughters, was streaked with shimmers of silver that only heightened the blue of her eyes. “Yes, outside picnic-style, please. Might as well take advantage of the warm weather and spare my new cherrywood floor.”
“Not to mention your back,” Charity said with a quick squeeze to her mother’s shoulders.
“Oh, amen to that,” Lizzie muttered, arching with a groan and a stretch. Her hands pressed tightly to the small of her back. “Tell me, please. Does this backache
ever
go away?”
Charity grinned and began massaging her sister’s neck. “Sure it does, honey. Mine left when the twins turned six.”
“Oh, great,” Lizzie moaned.
“Ignore her,” Faith said with a crooked smile in Charity’s direction. “My aches and pains left when each of my three girls were born.” She reached for the dishrag to wipe up a dribble of spilled milk. “You should already know that after having Teddy. Once those babies are born, all the pain goes away.”
Charity hefted a stack of dishes on the table and scrunched her honeyed brows. “Yeah, but what about that awful pain in your lower back? Remember, the one that gave you so many problems?”
Faith blinked. “What pain in my lower back?”