A Hope Undaunted (47 page)
“Oh, me too,” Lizzie said as she rose to her feet. She suddenly lurched forward. “Oh!”
Katie looked up from her chair with Gabe asleep against her shoulder. “Another kick?”
Lizzie blinked while her mouth rounded in a soft “o.” She skimmed a hand across her belly. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Brady said, shooting to his feet.
She scraped her lip and looked down, worry etched in her face. “I think my water just broke.”
Eleven sets of eyes focused on Lizzie’s feet where a pool of liquid puddled on the floor.
“Sweet mother of Job,” Katie whispered, “this baby stuff is not pretty.”
A grin parted Marcy’s lips, infusing new energy into a face that was no longer tired. She unbuttoned her coat and slapped it over her chair. “Sean, Steven, Katie – take Gabe home and put her to bed. I’ll call when I’m ready.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Katie said with a thrust of her chin.
“Me, either,” Faith said, giving Collin a peck on the cheek. “Go home and relieve Mrs. Tang, and get some sleep – you look spent.”
Mitch sighed and stood to his feet, caressing Charity’s neck with the palm of his hand. “I guess you plan on staying too, don’t you?” He glanced at Brady. “How long did it take with Teddy, do you remember?” There was the faintest trace of hope in his voice.
“Twelve hours,” Marcy answered, “so hopefully this one will go faster.”
Mitch groaned, and Charity reached up to kiss him lightly on the lips. “Go home, darling. Babies have a way of taking their sweet time.” She patted his cheek and gave him a tired smile. “Like you, when you’re being stubborn.”
I liked you better before when you weren’t such a crab.” Gabe flopped her arms on the table and studied the chessboard with the same grumpy look on her face Patrick felt on his own.
He shoved up the sleeves of his charcoal gray pullover and mirrored her mood, jaw to jaw. His eyes narrowed into the disgruntled look he’d worn for the last blasted week, ever since he’d begun his prison term at home. “Well, I liked me better too, for your information, when my wife didn’t hover over me with a stick and I could sleep in my own bed.”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed right back. “You are sleeping in your own bed – ”
A tic vibrated in his cheek as he leaned in. “In-my-own-room, next-to-my-own-wife!” He peered at the twin bed that Marcy insisted her sons bring down to the parlor, and was certain that if looks could singe, it would erupt in flames.
Gabe glanced over her shoulder at Marcy who was knitting with all the calm of a saint. “Do I really have to play chess with this guy? I’d rather do dishes.”
“That can be arranged,” Patrick said with a grind of his jaw. “Take your time with your next move, Gabe – I’ll just hop in my bed over there and take a nap while I’m waiting.”
“Patrick, stop it! You’re being a baby –
again
. Gabe, it’s Katie’s night for dishes, and although I’m sure she would love the help, you need to finish your lesson in chess.”
“You mean agony,” she mumbled under her breath.
“I heard that,” Patrick said with a lift of his chin. “And if you want to get good enough to beat Luke, I suggest you make a move, little girl, at least while I’m still in the land of the living.” He reached for his pipe out of sheer habit and scowled. “If that’s what you call it.”
Marcy shot to her feet and had the pipe whisked from his lips before he could light it with the match he’d just struck. “How did you get that?” she demanded, her voice considerably less calm than before. “You know the doctor said no pipe, at least for the foreseeable future.”
Gabe yawned. “He bribed me,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, squinting at the board.
“Snitch,” Patrick mumbled under his breath.
“Patrick O’Connor, so help me, I will kill you myself if you don’t shape up and do what the doctor says. I will not be left a widow, do you hear?”
“Marcy, I’m fine, and I would get over this weakness soon enough if you wouldn’t coddle me this way. I can handle the stairs if I take them slow.”
“Dr. Williamson was adamant – no stairs, no pipe, no activity, and no stress . . . which means no work, no radio, no newspaper, and no finances until you’re stronger. Case closed.”
“And no life,” he muttered. “For pity’s sake, it’s been two weeks without any pain.”
“And I want two more weeks, and two more weeks after that, and so on. The doctor said three months of total rest, and I aim to see you get every blessed second.”
“Is he giving you trouble again, Mother, because I can carry him up to the bathroom, if you like.” Steven sauntered into the room, lips twitching as if a grin waited in the wings. “After all, he’s due for a full-blown shower about now, isn’t he? After a week of sponge baths?”
“You lay one hand on me, Steven, and you will be putting yourself through college.”
Steven grinned and pulled up a chair, then slapped Patrick on the back. “Come on, Pop, you know I’m kidding, don’t ya? You two almost done? I’m itching to take a shot at the grouch.”
Gabe blasted up like a Roman candle. “He’s all yours, Steven, take him down.”
Patrick grunted. “As if I could sink any lower.”
Steven claimed Gabe’s vacated chair and studied the board for several seconds before glancing up at his father. He suddenly rose and moved to Patrick’s side, squatting to grip his arm. His voice was quiet. “I know this is killing you, Pop, but you’re tough, and the recovery won’t last forever. But the good from this will.”
Steven shifted and lowered his voice for Patrick’s ears only, facing his father with a rare humility. Patrick’s muscles stiffened in shock at the moisture in his son’s eyes, and when Steven finally spoke, tears pricked his own.
“Being your son is something I took for granted, Pop, a privilege I didn’t respect until it was almost too late. Well, I want you to know, it will never happen again. I only hope and pray I can make it up to you. I’d like to make you as proud of me as I am of you . . . if that’s even possible.”
Patrick blinked hard while emotions clogged his throat. Steven stood to his feet and swabbed an arm across his eyes, then offered a grin obviously meant to deflect the awkwardness he felt.
All at once, he bent to clutch Patrick tightly, a heave choking his voice as he embraced his father. “I love ya, Pop,” he whispered, “and I’m so sorry.”
Patrick patted his son’s back, the rasp in his tone betraying his own emotion. “I love you too, Steven, more than a stubborn old man can possibly express. You’re my son, my blood. And truth be told, I’m grateful for this wretched angina, if only for the fact that our relationship has been restored. I love you, son, and I always will. And I’m proud of you too.”
Steven grinned, his eyes still sporting a sheen of tears. “Yeah, well, let’s see how proud you are when I kick your backside in a game of chess.”
“In your dreams, college boy,” Patrick said in a gruff tease. “It’s my heart that’s ailing, you little punk, not my brain. Set it up.”
Katie strolled into the parlor with a textbook in her hand and a smile on her face. “Whew, finally done! Mother, I think you may have used every pot in the kitchen tonight. Anybody want anything before I recline on the love seat and lose myself in the thrilling world of finance?”
Patrick grunted in jest. “Yeah, I’d like my old life back.”
Marcy’s knitting dropped to her lap. “This is not easy for any of us, Patrick, and if you don’t stop whining and show some gratitude to this family who loves you, I’ll be forced to break down and cry.”
Terror struck as Patrick stared, unnerved by the threat of his wife’s tears. He sucked in a deep breath. “Marcy, don’t cry, please. I’ll do my best to behave, I promise.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “That’s my boy,” she said with a hint of victory in her eyes. “No, Katie, I’m fine, thank you. But I’ll bet Gabe would like something.”
“Root beer!” Gabe said with a shout.
“Milk,” Patrick bit out, hunkering down in the chair.
“She had milk for dinner, Patrick. A small glass of lemonade will be fine, Katie.”
“One lemonade, coming right up.” Katie glanced over her shoulder. “Is Brady stopping by for that casserole or are we supposed to deliver it?”
Marcy looked up from her knitting. “He said he wanted to stop by to see your father.”
“Oh, speak of the devil,” Katie said at the sound of someone at the door. She hurried to give Brady a hug as he entered. “You’re just in time for lemonade. How are the girls doing?” she asked, taking his coat from his hand. “Has little Molly gotten the hang of nursing yet, I hope?”
Brady threaded a hand through his hair and grinned. “Yeah, finally. We’ve gotten her four and half pounds up to a hefty five. As far as the girls?” He grinned. “They’re tired and crabby.” He shot a quick glance in the parlor. “Much the same as here, I imagine.”
“Don’t start, Brady,” Patrick called. “The battle for my pride has already been won.”
Brady grinned as he gave Marcy a hug. He wandered over to slap Patrick on the back. “Well, you look good, if it’s any consolation. How are you feeling?”
Patrick attempted a smile. “Does it matter? I’m confined to house arrest for the next two and a half months whether I like it or not.”
“Mmm . . . let me see if I can drum up some sympathy here.” Katie tapped a finger to her chin and pursed her lips. “That’s shorter than my confinement this summer, if I’m not mistaken.”
A smile twisted on her father’s lips. “Yes, but you forget that you deserved it, and I don’t. And at least you got out of the house every week, to work at the BCAS.”
Katie’s gaze shifted to Brady. “Speaking of the BCAS, do you have any idea what’s going on? Luke’s been downright evasive lately. I talked to him on the phone several times, but we haven’t seen him for almost two weeks. And now he says he has to work late every night this week and won’t be able to visit Gabe or tutor me.”
The smile in Brady’s eyes instantly sobered. His gaze shifted to Gabe and back. “He’s got a lot on his mind right now, I think.” He hesitated, then squeezed Patrick’s shoulder before heading toward Katie with concern in his eyes. “I’ll help you get those lemonades.”
Her smile stiffened as Brady ushered her through the swinging door. As soon as she was on the other side, she spun around. “What’s wrong?”
He studied her with pensive eyes, as if gauging how much to say. “I thought you knew. Luke told me he was going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Brady drew in a deep breath and released it. “He gave his notice to Parker last week.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s taken a job with the Children’s Aid Society in Philadelphia.”
Katie just stared, her heart thudding to a stop.
“I can’t go into any detail, but Luke’s taking Betty to live with her aunt because of personal problems here in Boston.”
“For how long?”
Brady moved to the icebox to pull out the lemonade, then fished two glasses from the cabinet. He filled each with ice slowly, assessing Katie from across the room. “For good.”
Katie tried to gasp, but the air welded to her throat.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Gabe because I think Luke should handle it. But as close as you two have gotten, I thought you should know.”
Pain like the thrust of a knife almost doubled her in two, gutting her good mood as she glazed into a hard stare.
No,
God, he couldn’t . . .
She closed her eyes, envisioning the man who had given her so much through his friendship. Didn’t he know she needed him? Relied on him? He was everything to her – the tutor she depended on, the cohort she confided in, the friend she cared for. Her eyes suddenly flipped open in shock.
And the man I love?
The air thinned in her throat as the awful truth struck. She put a hand to her head, dizzy with the realization that it was Luke she relied on, not Jack. Luke who quickened her spirit with prayer, and Luke who stirred her pulse with the lift of his smile . . .
And the heat of his kiss?
She swallowed hard, comprehension seeping in to numb both her body and her brain. Luke – always Luke – by her side when she’d needed him most . . .
The cold grip of reality strangled in her throat. How could she have been so blind? She moved to the counter like a zombie and closed her eyes again, unwilling to see the truth for what it was, and yet unable to escape its painful presence. Images of Cluny McGee and the man he’d become flashed before her, and with a quickening in her spirit and her pulse, the truth she’d evaded so long finally set her free.
God, help
me . . . could I be in love with Luke McGee?
And then suddenly nothing mattered more. Not Jack, not law school, not rising to the top for whatever cause she held dear. From the moment that her father had flirted with death, everything had shifted in her brain. She opened her eyes, and like a lens to a blind eye, it all came into true focus. Her heart started to race. She was in love with Luke McGee! And he was in love with her.
“Katie, are you all right?” Brady studied her with concern.
She nodded and then glanced at the clock. Six-fifteen – she could still catch him at the office. Working her lip, she hurried over to pour the lemonade, then grabbed her mother’s pot holders. She removed the casserole from the oven and put it in the box her mother had prepared, next to the rolls. She retrieved the salad from the icebox and partitioned it with several of Marcy’s dishtowels. Her mind – and her heart – were racing as she lifted the lemonades from the counter and handed one to Brady with a shaky grin. “Your dinner is all ready – don’t forget it when you leave. And give Lizzie my love, okay?”
He took the lemonade and smiled, a curious look in his eyes. “Thanks, Katie. Mind if I ask why you looked like death a few minutes ago and now you’re glowing?”
She made her way to the door with Gabe’s lemonade in hand, shooting a smile over her shoulder. “Sure, Brady. You might say I’m looking forward to giving Luke McGee a healthy piece of my mind, that’s all.” She butted through the door, pulse racing.
And my heart.
