Focused on the board, Luke’s head remained fixed, but his eyes flicked up with a half-lidded smile that took her by surprise when it fluttered her stomach. “When I’m good and ready, Katie Rose, and not a moment before.”
She blushed and folded her arms, wishing the attraction she still felt for this “friend” wasn’t quite so friendly. She angled a brow and squeezed Gabe’s shoulder. “Take him down, Gabe honey, will ya? The man is in dire need of humility.”
Gabe looked up. The freckles on her face parted into a devious grin. “Wanna help?”
Adrenaline rushed through Katie’s veins at the prospect of demoralizing Luke McGee in a game of checkers. Tongue in her cheek, she nudged Gabe’s arm. “Move over – you and I are going to put this boy in his proper place.”
“Whatever it takes, Katie Rose. Two against one is fine by me.” A slow smile eased across Luke’s lips, and much to her annoyance, her stomach did another flip.
It wasn’t long before Luke reached prime gloating mode. “Crown me, Katie –
again
.”
Katie pursed her lips, head bent over the board. Nothing moved but her eyelashes as they flipped up, eyes scorching him with a look. “Don’t tempt me, McGee. I learned about voluntary manslaughter this week.” She slapped a second checker on his and made her move.
He grinned. “Good. Now if you can just learn that I always win, you’ll save yourself a lot of heartbreak.” With lightning speed, he made a triple jump and leaned back against the sofa with that irritating smile that always riled her as a kid. A muscled arm loomed over the board to offer a handshake, which she completely ignored. “Congratulate me, Katie Rose – I just won my third game.”
“Gosh, Luke, you are so good!” Gabe said in awe. She pumped his hand with respect.
“Hear that?” He gave Katie a wink and lapsed into his annoying Cluny drawl. “Gabe thinks I’m ‘gooooood.’”
Katie’s chin hiked several degrees. “I’ll say – particularly at getting under my skin.”
He flashed some teeth as he reset the board. “Yeah, I know.”
“Lemonade, anyone? I have a sudden urge to wring something,” she said with a pointed look in Luke’s direction, “and it’s probably safer if it’s lemons.”
“Oh, me, me, me!” Gabe said, bounding in the air.
The neat little checkers that Luke had just set up bounced like Tiddlywinks, flipping onto the sofa and floor. “Now look what you did!” he said with a mock groan, then dove across the board and pounced on Gabe. He tickled unmercifully until her giggles ricocheted off the walls.
“Lemonade sounds wonderful, Katie,” Marcy said with a pile of knitting in her lap.
“Yeah, sis, it does. I’ll need something after Father grinds me into the dust.”
Katie smiled and headed to the kitchen, humming under her breath. Within minutes, the back door squeaked open, and Steven peeked in. “Where’s Father?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“In the parlor. You want some lemon – ”
“No.” He stepped in and carefully closed the back door. His eyes flicked to the swinging door and back while his tone softened to a slur. “Can ya do me a favor – please?”
“What?” She plucked several lemons from the basket on the counter.
“I need some things from my room.”
“What kind of things?” she asked, brow puckering as she studied him. His speech was slow and thick and his eyes were tired and spidered in red. She squinted. “Are you drunk?”
Steven licked his lips. “A little, but forget about that. I need clothes, textbooks. Father and I got into a fight last night, so I need to lay low. I’ll be staying at Jeff’s for a while.”
She cocked her head. “You and Father always fight. Why is this any different?”
He swallowed hard. A wash of color filtered into his pale face. “This was worse than before. He threatened to kick me out.”
“What?” The lemon in Katie’s hand slipped from her fingers, rolling onto the counter. “What in the world did you do?”
A knot ducked in his throat as he looked away, thumbs latched in the pockets of his trousers. “He caught me with Maggie . . . on the couch.”
Katie gaped, unable to believe the sheer stupidity of his action. “No! You weren’t – ”
He scowled. “We were just necking, okay? Give me a break, I’m not that stupid.”
She folded her arms. “I don’t know, sounds pretty stupid to me, in your own house.”
A nerve twitched in his jaw. “Yeah? Well, I’m not looking for your opinion, Katie Rose, I’m looking for your help. Will you get my things or not?”
Her lips pressed tight as she sliced a lemon in two. “Not. If I get caught, I’ll be in as much trouble as you, and I’m too fond of Jack to risk it. Just go – nobody will even notice.”
A blast of air expelled from his lips as he stormed to the swinging door. “Thanks a lot.”
“Steven, wait – ” She turned, her guilt prompting second thoughts, but he was already gone, the door slowly squeaking to a stop.
Within seconds, her blood curdled at the sound of her father’s voice. “Steven, get in here –
now
!”
She winced. Not a good evening for Steven, she thought with a grimace, or any of them, given Father’s state of mind. Expelling a weighty breath, she proceeded to cut the lemons, only to drop the knife midair at the frantic sound of her mother’s voice.
“Patrick, no!”
Katie rushed to the parlor, body numb at the scene before her. Her father was enraged as she’d never seen him before, knuckles fisted white on Steven’s shirt as he pushed him to the wall. His face was scarlet while his chest pumped air faster than Katie could catch her own breath.
“You’re drunk!” her father screamed, his voice that of a total stranger.
“Patrick, stop!” Marcy pulled on his arm, but her father only ignored her. His gray eyes darkened to black as he glared at his son while Sean stood behind, his face pale and tight. Across the room, Gabe shivered in Luke’s arms with tears in her eyes.
“Answer me! Are you? Are you going to follow my rules?” Steven remained silent.
“Answer him!” Sean rasped.
“Steven, please!” Marcy stroked a palm to Steven’s face.
Patrick butted her aside with a jerk of his arm. “Leave him be, your coddling is the reason he’s the way that he is.”
Sean steadied Marcy when she stumbled back, and needles of shock pricked Katie’s heart as she ran into the room. “Father, stop,
please
!”
Gabe started to cry, and Luke held her tighter, his own face sculpted in stone.
“Answer me, you punk!” Patrick slammed Steven hard against the wall with another angry thrust, and a gilded family portrait crashed to the floor. Gabe screamed and Marcy started to sob. Her father’s voice was hoarse with rage. “Are you going to stop seeing that whore?”
Something deadly flickered in Steven’s eyes and with a stab of his steeled arms, he shoved their father back.
Marcy’s cry shattered the room.
Patrick stumbled. Sean steadied him with a clasp to his arm. With ragged breaths, her father flung it away and charged forward.
“Patrick, no!” Her mother’s shrill plea pierced the air.
Sean gripped Patrick from behind in attempted restraint. As if empowered by madness, Patrick slashed an elbow. The force of it broke Sean’s hold for the briefest of moments, but it was more than enough. Patrick lunged, delivering a blow that split Steven’s lip with a splatter of blood.
Marcy screamed.
In a surreal blur, Steven drove his fist into his father’s gut. Patrick doubled over.
Luke locked Steven’s arms behind while Sean held onto Patrick as he wheezed uncontrollably. With a gasping breath, Patrick finally looked up, his eyes brutal with rage. “Get out! I never want to see you again – ”
“Patrick, you don’t mean that!” Marcy’s voice bordered on terror.
Steven wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand while a dark mix of shock and anger glittered in his eyes. A hard smile curled the corners of his lips. “Well, what do you know, Pop? For once we feel exactly the same.”
Patrick jerked forward, then seized up with a guttural groan. Shock glazed his eyes while he flinched hard, as if suspended in air. And then in one paralyzing moment of horror, he slumped forward, his body lifeless in Sean’s arms.
“Patrick!” Marcy clutched at his shirt, panic bleeding all air from the room.
Katie stood like stone, her face and fingers chilled to the bone. In her brain, the room stilled to a nightmare state, sounds and movement coagulating into slow motion. Her mother sobbing, Gabe weeping, and Sean’s fractured calm as he clutched his father in his arms. She saw Luke jerk Patrick’s tie free and loosen his shirt, then press two fingers to his throat. Her body snapped to attention at the harsh command of his words as they rang in the air.
“Katie, get your mother’s coat and the keys to your father’s car. Gabe, bring me that blanket from the couch. Sean, you and I will carry him out.” He braced his arms beneath Patrick’s back and knees, joining with Sean in creating a hammock for his limp body. “Ready?”
Katie bolted in the hall to grab her mother’s coat from the rack in the foyer, then frantically searched her father’s coat pocket for keys. Sean’s face appeared chiseled in white granite as he held his father’s body close, while Luke bundled Patrick in Gabe’s blanket at the door. Marcy’s weeping filled the foyer with their grief.
Snatching the keys from Katie’s hand, Luke leveled his gaze on Steven. “Call Sacred Heart Hospital immediately and tell them we’re on our way, a possible stroke or heart attack. Then call your sisters. There’s not enough room in the car, so one of them can bring you and Gabe to the hospital.” He positioned his arms beneath Patrick’s body, rejoining Sean in their makeshift stretcher. “Katie – the door!”
She flung it open with trembling hands. Luke and Sean carried Patrick through while Marcy sobbed on their heels. Luke glanced back, his gaze fused to Katie’s in a transmission of calm that defied the situation. “We’ll get him there on time, I promise. Just bring your mother’s coat out to the car, and get your father’s too.”
Nodding, Katie grabbed the coats and flew outside to reach her father’s Model T before Luke and Sean. She hurled the back door open, and Sean got in first, cradling his father’s head against his chest. Marcy climbed in after, sobbing as she held her husband’s limp body on her lap. Her weeping stilled to frail heaves, fingers shaking with every gentle caress of his leg.
Katie was numb as she slid in the front seat and turned, her eyes locked on her father’s body that was as still as death in her brother’s arms.
No!
her mind screamed – he couldn’t die. He was their life . . . their pillar of strength . . . Fear rose like bile in her throat, as bitter as the tears that blinded her eyes.
Oh, Daddy . . .
Luke started the car, and she finally broke into sobs – all of her hopes and dreams worthless in the face of losing her father.
Dear God, what can we do?
It came to her then – as soft as a whisper – the caliber of man that her father truly was. A man bent on serving God and family. And in one violent swell of hope, she suddenly realized.
They could pray.
Marcy stared at the sterile walls, all tears momentarily depleted from her eyes. Her gaze wandered aimlessly from the dingy black-and-white linoleum floor to the floral framed prints carelessly hung, no doubt in a pathetic attempt to infuse life where death often thrived. Polished wood chairs replaced splintered benches of yesteryear, and the garish glow of the overhead light was now softened by lamps on tables here and there. Piles of magazines were littered throughout, obviously meant to distract or pass time, neither of which Marcy had any inclination to do. She did not want to be distracted from the task at hand – beseeching God on behalf of her husband – nor allow time to pass without Patrick as her primary focus.
She closed her eyes to pray, vaguely aware of Faith hovering on one side while Charity squeezed her hand on the other. They had only been here for a little under an hour, but it seemed like years since that fateful moment her heart had been severed in two. And now the most cherished half – the man she loved and needed – possibly lay at death’s door. While she, a woman in dire need of mercy, lay at God’s feet.
It was almost too much to comprehend and certainly too much to bear, the notion that the strong and virile man who had lain by her side last night – held her, loved her – would not be there tonight. The very thought slashed through her with such anguish, it sucked the air from her lungs in a painful gasp. She slumped forward, head in her hands.
God, please,
no . . . I love him! I would be lost if you took him . . .
And partially responsible?
On the heels of her pain, guilt took a shot, niggling in her brain as she suddenly remembered. She’d butted heads with him again tonight, right after he’d walked in the door, never realizing the kind of day he had had. And all over Gabe. She shivered. When would she learn? Moisture pricked her eyes, signaling the tears were back.
Oh, Patrick, forgive me . . .
Movement stirred her, and she looked up into the worried countenance of her youngest daughter. “Lizzie and Brady are on their way,” Katie whispered and offered her a cup of water. “They had to take Teddy to Brady’s sister’s, and she lives across town.”
Marcy nodded and sipped, grateful to replenish with water rather than weeping it out.
Katie bent to kiss her mother’s cheek, then searched her sisters’ worried faces. “Would either of you like a drink? I’ll be happy to get it.”
“No, thanks, Katie. I finally got Mitch at the
Herald
, and he’s on his way with coffee.” Charity massaged Marcy’s back with the heel of her hand, eyes rimmed as red as her mother’s.
Faith shook her head, offering Katie a strained smile. She glanced at the oversized clock on the wall and laid a protective hand on her mother’s arm, her thumb absently kneading. “I wish I could get ahold of Collin, but I . . . I don’t know where he is.” Her voice broke.
Marcy squeezed her hand. “It’s almost seven-thirty, Faith, and he’ll be home soon. When he does, your neighbor will tell him to come straight here.”
“I know,” she whispered, and then her eyes flitted to the clock once again. “It’s been almost an hour now – can’t they tell us something?”