“Good night, Katie. See you tomorrow.” He opened the door and ushered her in, closing it again to leave her alone with her thoughts.
Tugging off her gloves, she shoved them in her pockets and hung her coat on the rack, then stomped her shoes on the mat as she glanced in the parlor. All was quiet and dark except for the glow of the hearth. With a deep sigh, Katie bolted the door and tiptoed in to where her father appeared to be sleeping. She bent to press her lips to his cheek, and his low chuckle took her by surprise.
“That was a cold, cold kiss, Katie Rose.” He turned in the bed with a yawn and a stretch.
She grinned and blew on her hands. “Sorry, I thought you were asleep.”
“As if I could sleep with the ice of your lips on my cheek.”
“You think my lips are cold, wait till you feel my hands . . .” Katie grinned and attempted to tuck her fingers into the hollow of her father’s neck.
Patrick lunged to the far side of the narrow bed. “You lay one frozen finger on my tired body, young lady, and you’ll find coal in your stocking come morning, make no mistake.”
“Come on, Father, you can do better than that. What, no confinement, no threat of taking law school away?” Katie butted him over and sat, her eyes tender with compassion. “Speaking of confinement, when is yours over? I thought Dr. Williamson talked about releasing you to normal activity if you were on your best behavior.”
Patrick grunted. “Humph. The man is a regular Ebeneezer Scrooge, if you ask me. Best behavior, my eye. I’ve done everything he and
that woman
– ” with a roll of his eyes, her father jerked his head in the direction of his bedroom upstairs – “have asked me to do, and where has it gotten me? Bunched up in a cold, cramped bed on Christmas Eve – all alone, no less.”
Katie grinned. “Well, cheer up, Santa should be here before long, and besides, you forget that Mother is cold and alone too.”
“Good,” Patrick said with a sullen smile. He adjusted the covers. “And speaking of pushy women,” he said with a quirk of his brow, “how’s it working out with you and Parker at the BCAS? You’re not trying to ride roughshod over that young man, are you, Katie Rose? I heard you bullying him tonight about changes you think he needs to make at the office.”
Katie sighed and slumped against the headboard. “I don’t know, Father – maybe.”
Patrick eyed her through narrow eyes and finally sat up. He jabbed his pillow several times and tucked it behind both Katie and him, then drew her close with a firm arm to her shoulder. “Compromise, Katie Rose, is a not a profane word, you know. In some cases, it can actually be in your best interest, not to mention being an excellent means of expressing love. And Parker is your manager, young lady, so you need to respect that and honor his decisions.”
A weary sigh drifted from Katie’s lips. “I know, Father, and I’m trying, really I am.”
He squeezed her close. “I know you are, darlin’, and I’m proud of you. You’ve grown up a lot these last six months, Katie, and it gives my heart great joy, I can tell you that.”
She leaned back against her father’s shoulder and closed her eyes to ward off the sting of tears beneath her lids. It felt so unbelievably good to rest in the safety of his arms, this man whose authority she’d spent a lifetime begrudging. A father who loved her enough to steer her and guide her, no matter how difficult she had made it for him. A silent grief welled within at the sudden realization that her own blind rebellion had robbed her of years of fellowship with this man, this father, this incredible source of love and strength.
Not unlike God
, she thought with a clutch of her heart. As a little girl, she’d done nothing but thwart all authority, bent on her own will and her own way, fighting those she loved and alienating herself in the process.
Oh, God, forgive me,
how very foolish I’ve been . . .
With a sudden rush of love, she gripped her father’s waist. “Oh, Daddy, I love you so much, and I’m so sorry for bucking you at every turn. I didn’t know . . . I honestly didn’t understand that all along . . . you only did it for me.”
His low chuckle vibrated against her face, forcing hot tears from her eyes. “You’re my girl, Katie Rose, of course I did it for you – our last-born child, and my precious challenge from God.” She felt the comforting weight of his hand, stroking her hair as another chuckle rumbled her cheek. “Of course, I fully intend to have words with the Good Lord one day, darlin’, as to why he sent you last when my energy was near depleted.”
Katie pulled back to cup her father’s face in her hands, emotion thick in her throat at the gray in his temples and the lines etched beneath tired eyes. “To keep you forever young,” she whispered with a catch in her throat, “for me, Father, because I need you that much.”
She felt the quiver of his stubbled jaw beneath her palms, and as he spoke, the glimmer of wetness in his eyes unleashed more in her own. “And I need you, Katie Rose. From the moment you took your first breath, you claimed a piece of my heart that nobody else can fill.”
A smile blossomed on Katie’s lips, and Faith’s words echoed in her mind.
“You own a piece of God’s heart, you know, Katie, like
a piece of a puzzle that’s missing. A piece nobody else can
fill.”
Katie wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater and gave her father a tender peck on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Father. And it will be – because of you, still here with us for a long time to come.” She rose and gave him a quick squeeze. “I love you. Sleep well.”
“I love you too, Katie. Good night.”
A warmth that defied the chilliness of the winter night infused Katie with a warm glow as she mounted the stairs. She reached the landing, and all at once Luke’s handsome face flashed in her mind, the memory of the night he’d carried her to her room painfully real. And in one aching beat of her heart, the warm glow faded as she made her way to the bathroom, her thoughts suddenly as scattered as the delicate crystals fluttering outside.
With a melancholy heart, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, but when she stepped foot in her room and kicked off her shoes, an overwhelming urge arose to talk to her mother. A long-forgotten need to cuddle in her mother’s arms and soak in her reassurance that everything would be all right. Katie turned and silently padded down the hall to her parents’ darkened room. She paused at the door, listening for the sound of sleep.
“Mother, are you still awake?” she whispered.
“Katie? Of course – I’m too excited to sleep.”
A swell of love rushed through her at the sound of her mother’s voice, and she bounded for the bed like she had so many Christmases in the past. Marcy held the covers open while Katie slipped in, and the warmth of her parents’ bed made her feel six again.
Scooping her close, her mother kissed her head. “It was a wonderful evening, wasn’t it?”
Katie nodded, unable to speak for the emotion in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, and water seeped from her lids.
Marcy stroked her face and stopped, fingers slick with Katie’s tears. She pulled away to study her daughter in the pale moonlight. “Katie? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Mother, I’m just . . . a little scared.”
Marcy blinked. “You? Scared? I don’t believe it. What are you afraid of, darling?”
Katie drew in a deep breath. “I guess I’m afraid of what the future may hold.”
A sigh drifted from her mother’s lips as she pulled Katie close once again. “You’ve been thinking about Luke, haven’t you?”
She nodded again and sniffed, sinking into the warmth of her mother’s embrace.
“You will fall in love again, Katie,” she whispered, “exactly when God wants you to. And believe it or not, when you do, Luke will become nothing more than what he’s always been – a wonderful friend from your past.”
Katie nodded and released a shaky sigh, her tone quiet. “Mother?”
“Yes, darling?”
“I overhead Faith and Charity once . . . when you had that awful fight with Father after Sam O’Rourke came into town . . .”
Her mother was silent for several seconds. “Yes?”
“Well, they said something that shocked me.”
“What was it?”
“They said . . . that when you married Father, you were in love with Sam.” Katie hesitated, almost afraid to ask the question. “Is that true?”
It was Marcy’s turn to pause. Katie felt the warmth of her mother’s sigh, soft against her ear. “Yes, Katie Rose . . . and no.”
“What does that mean?” Katie sat up.
Her mother’s tone was somber, but her face held a peaceful smile. “It means that yes, when I married your father, I thought I was in love with Sam O’Rourke. But Sam was not the marrying kind, no matter how much I wanted him to be. So when Patrick began to call, I put him off for a long time, too in love with Sam to consider another relationship. But I had a firm faith in prayer, and that’s what I did. I prayed for God to open my heart to Patrick if he was the one, and something amazing began to happen. All at once, I relaxed and got to know him and thought to myself, ‘This is a good man.’ He treated me with respect and kindness, even though I’d known he’d had a reputation as jaded as Sam’s. But where Sam would stir me with his kisses and try to push, Patrick waited patiently and took it very slowly, wooing me with his love. So when I said yes to your father, I did have passionate feelings for Sam that I thought were love, but it was your father – then and now – who taught me what real love between a man and woman should be.”
Katie toyed with the collar of her blouse. “So when Father would kiss you before you were married, was it quieter . . . less exciting than it was with Sam?”
Marcy squinted as if deep in thought. “Yes, I suppose it was, but I think that’s because my head was so in the clouds over Sam, that I couldn’t feel everything I needed to feel for your father.” She paused, her voice growing tender. “But I can tell you one thing, Katie Rose. I remember most clearly the morning that I woke up next to your father about a year into our marriage. He lay there by my side, asleep and looking so much like a little boy with those dark lashes and handsome face, that I remember thinking in shock, ‘Dear Lord – how lucky am I? I married the love of my life.’”
A second round of tears welled in Katie’s eyes and she pushed them away with a grin, noting the same in her mother. “Oh, I want that so badly. Do you . . . do you think . . . I mean, could that be possible for Parker and me?”
Marcy sat up, eyes wide with surprise as she took Katie’s hand. “Oh, Katie, has something happened between you two?”
A sigh quivered from Katie’s lips as she nodded. “He said he’s falling in love with me, Mother, and I . . . well, I told him we could take it slowly.”
With a faint cry of joy, Marcy hugged Katie tightly. “Oh, darling, he’s a wonderful man, and I just know he would treat you well.”
“I know it too, and I care about him a lot.” She hesitated. “But the spark . . . like it was with Luke . . . well, it’s not there yet.”
Marcy stroked her daughter’s cheek. “My grandmother wrote me a very wise letter once that I will never forget. I’d written her that your father had asked me to marry him, and her approval was quite obvious in her response. You see, she knew the heartbreak Sam had caused, and although she wasn’t enamored with Patrick either, given his reputation, she told me she felt a peace about it. But she also knew the struggle I had for the very reason you mention – the ‘spark’ for your father was not what it was with Sam.”
Her mother’s eyes took on a faraway quality, as if she were traveling back in time to read her grandmother’s letter once again. “I remember her words exactly. She said, ‘Marceline, if you remember nothing else I say, remember this – always marry a man who loves you a little bit more than you love him.’” Tears glimmered in Marcy’s eyes as she squeezed Katie’s arm. “And she was right. Trust me, Katie Rose, if Parker is the man God has for you, the spark will come. Sometimes with attraction, all that fire and smoke just sting your eyes, keeping you from seeing those white-hot embers that will truly keep you warm. Just pray, darling, and you’ll find your answer. God is the ultimate romantic, you know. You just have to have faith.”
Katie hugged her mother’s shoulders, content in the peaceful shelter of her arms. How she wished she had spent more moments like this rather than thwarting her parents’ will as 436 a self-sufficient little girl, bent on her own stubborn independence. She smiled and relished the moment, enjoying the feel of her mother’s arm wrapped securely around her waist while her breathing feathered her face. With a sigh of relaxation, she closed her eyes, and all at once she thought of Parker.
White-hot embers.
Her lips quirked into a smile at the thought, and with very little difficulty, she let herself dream of the possibilities . . .
Marcy lay next to her daughter with a smile on her face, listening to Katie’s even breathing as she slept by her side. Her heart clutched at the memory of the little girl who had always seemed so aloof, as if being the baby had kept her too far removed from her sisters and brothers.
Thank you,
God, for the woman this daughter has become . . .
“Guide her,” Marcy whispered, “protect her, and open her eyes to the man you have for her.”
Longing for a few moments more before waking Katie to dress for bed, Marcy wished she could just let her daughter sleep here, even in her clothes. It got so lonely without Patrick by her side, and no more so than on Christmas. She let her mind wander over the last two months, and felt an instant tightening. The thought of ever losing him was a constant threat which often flared into fear that clawed in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, the doctor’s words echoing from two weeks ago.
“Marcy, the tests are back, and everything looks good. I don’t want him going back to work just yet, but as far as the stairs and additional activity, marital or otherwise, if he just takes it slow, he can resume his normal life.” There had been a tease in his tone. “And that includes, Mrs. O’Connor, the man’s pipe, papers, and radio.”
Her eyes blinked open in the dark, well aware she could give her husband the best Christmas present he ever had . . . if only.