A Hope Undaunted

by Julie Lessman

  “Yeah,” Katie said with a catch in her throat. She plopped into the chair with a silly grin and picked up a piece of fruit. “They are now.”

  Everything was perfect! With a skitter of excitement, Marcy glanced at the clock on the parlor mantel. It chimed ten, and her gaze flicked to the face of her husband as he lounged in his favorite chair with a newspaper in his lap. Katie had gone to bed early, and Steven was in his room, affording Patrick and her a rare evening to themselves. Marcy gnawed on her lip and secretly observed him for clues to his mood. He was relaxed, she knew, because his feet were propped up on the ottoman, shoes off and legs casually crossed. A late-summer breeze fluttered the window sheers, bringing cool relief to a sticky day. His handsome face was smooth and free from the worry lines so often etched in his brow after a trying day at the Herald, and his short dark hair – salted liberally with silver at the temples – rested against a small corduroy pillow tucked neatly behind his neck.

  Marcy set her sewing aside and rose to her feet, careful to temper the smile that tugged at her lips. Yes, tonight was the perfect night to broach the subject, she concluded with anticipation bubbling in her chest. She had fixed his favorite dinner – chicken and dumplings topped off with coconut cream pie – winning her a warm smile and a kiss of gratitude. She had even taken the time to dab a touch of perfume to her neck, an effort that had paid off handsomely with a second lingering kiss. Marcy bit back a grin and moved toward his chair. No, Patrick O’Connor was definitely ripe for the picking tonight, and somehow she didn’t feel the least bit guilty. This was far too important, and she wanted it far too badly.

  Easing down on the arm of his chair, she leaned in to press a kiss to his temple, the heady scent of his musk aftershave warming her senses. “Patrick?”

  “Mmm?” He glanced up from his paper, and suddenly his distracted look melted into a smile. He hooked an arm to her waist and tugged her close. His breath was warm against her neck as his mouth wandered in to a kiss. “You smell good tonight, darlin’,” he whispered. A low chuckle vibrated against her cheek. “That’s dangerous, you know, if you’re looking to sleep.”

  Marcy turned to face him, her breath quivering with elation. She clutched his hand between hers. “Oh, Patrick, I couldn’t possibly sleep – at least not until we talk . . .”

  He squinted and gave her a curious smile. One brow slanted up. “About what?”

  She felt like a little girl at Christmas, flushed with excitement. “Patrick, you know how much I love being a mother, and how awful it’s been for me since, well, since the change of life – ”

  “Marcy, you’ll always be a mother – ”

  She placed a palm to his face. “I know, but I won’t always have children to raise.”

  He shifted, his smile diminishing somewhat. “You have grandchildren – ”

  “But they aren’t mine to keep. And I can’t nurture them day in and day out.”

  “For pity’s sake, you have Katie and Steven to nurture, and they sorely need it.”

  Marcy released an anxious breath and gripped his arms, her eyes pleading with his. “But in a few short years, they’ll be gone, and I’ll be alone.”

  “We have each other,” he whispered, a shade of hurt in his tone.

  She quickly pressed her mouth to his in gentle coercion, deepening her kiss before pulling away. “I know, Patrick, and I love you with everything in me.” She searched his eyes with her own. “But please believe me – I’m not ready to stop being a mother.”

  He stroked her cheek slowly, his eyes pools of sympathy steeped in love. “Darlin’, your periods have ceased – you know there can be no more babies.”

  “Not babies, Patrick, children! I can still have children.”

  He blinked while confusion furrowed his brow. “What are you saying?”

  She clutched his shirt with her fingers, desperate to convey the desire of her heart. “Foster parents, Patrick, for children who have no family of their own. Lost children who have no one to love them, to nurture them. I can do that – I have to do that!”

  His shock was apparent in the drop of his jaw. Marcy wasted no time in driving her cause home. “Katie told me about a seven-year-old girl named Gabriella Dawn Smith, almost eight, a sprite of a girl whose parents abandoned her as an infant.”

  He pushed her away and jolted to his feet. “No, absolutely not – ”

  She jumped up, her heart hammering in her chest as she seized his vest with bloodless fingers. “Please, Patrick, I’ve never begged you for anything before, but I’m begging you now.” Tears streamed down her face as she pressed on. “She lives at the Boston Society for the Care of Girls, but Katie says the director wants to send her away on one of those dreadful orphan trains – ”

  “She’s trouble, Marcy, I guarantee you – and that’s why they’re shipping her out – ”

  “Patrick – please! I need this girl, and this girl needs us, if only for a season.” Her voice cracked on a sob, and she knew the shock in his eyes had stolen his tongue. She forged on. “Katie says she has no place to go, except on a train to the Midwest with total strangers. And there’s no assurance she’ll arrive safely as she’s known to run away.”

  Patrick remained silent, a hand to his eyes. His shoulders slumped as she hurried on, not sparing a chance to refute.

  “She’s Luke’s charge, Patrick, and he’s worried sick about her, and Katie and she are friends . . .” Her voice quavered into a soft heave. “Please . . .”

  She heard his heavy sigh, and hope flickered in her heart like a dying flame awaiting a gentle breeze. His hand dropped to his side as he stared at her through weary eyes, tempering his gaze with caution. “I will pray about it, Marcy – ”

  She circled his waist with her arms and peered up, tears of hope glimmering in her eyes. Her tone was a fragile plea. “I’ve already prayed about it, my love, from the moment Katie told me about this little girl, and I know it’s the right thing to do. Please, Patrick – whatever you ask, I will do. Only don’t deny me this.”

  She watched as he stared, his face a painful study of a man in love with his wife – tenderness and hope, mingling with worry and fear. The questions were there in his eyes. Should he go against his gut just to keep peace with his wife? Was this the right thing for this woman he loved? Seconds passed like hours while she imagined him pondering the thoughts that pulled at his mind.

  He finally drew her close with a loud exhale of air. “All right, Marcy,” he said quietly, “since this is so all-fire important to you, we’ll do this your way . . . for now. But – ” he wagged a threatening finger in her face – “at the first sign of trouble, Miss Gabriella Dawn Smith goes, do you hear? And you will back me in my discipline, do you understand?”

  She lunged into his arms with a joyful cry, almost toppling them both into the chair. “Oh, Patrick, I love you so much! And I mean it – anything, I’ll do anything.”

  He chuckled and planted a kiss in her hair, steadying her with a firm grip to her arms. “Don’t think I won’t be taking you up on that, darlin’.” His eyes twinkled as he cupped a hand to her waist. “In fact, I’ve a mind to collect right no – ”

  The clomp of heavy footsteps clambered down the stairs, drawing their gazes to the foyer. Marcy froze at the sight of Steven heading for the front door. Lord, no, not now!

  Patrick dropped his hold on her waist and strode toward the hall, shooting a quick glance at the clock on the mantel. “And where do you think you’re going?”

  Steven turned, brows arched and a stiff smile on his lips. “Out. With Maggie.”

  “At this late hour?” Patrick’s tone hardened considerably. Steven strolled to where Marcy stood. He kissed her cheek and gave her a quick hug. “Good night, Mother.”

  “Steven, please don’t be too late,” she whispered against his neck, her stomach in knots at what this could do to Patrick’s good mood.

  Steven gave her a gentle smile, the only reminder of the shy and introspective boy he
used to be. Her heart squeezed with love for this once small and gangly son, who’d possessed a gentle heart and quiet manner. He stood before her now, a handsome young man who had discovered the wild ways of an unfettered generation, craving adventure along with a college education.

  He turned to Patrick, his stance as steely as his father’s. “Yes, at this late hour. And I won’t be home till late. Good night, Father.” He opened the door.

  Patrick grabbed his arm and spun him around, matching his son’s towering height inch for inch. “You will not be crawling home at all hours of the morning, out gallivanting with that woman, do you hear? If you aren’t home by midnight, the bolts will be locked.”

  A nerve twitched in Steven’s chiseled jaw as he eyed his father with cool indifference. “Then I’ll sleep elsewhere,” he said with icy calm.

  Marcy hurried to her husband’s side and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Patrick, he’s a grown man in college, twenty-one years old,” she whispered.

  “And living under my roof, Marcy, enjoying the benefit of an education that I provide.”

  Steven stepped through the door without looking back, ushering in a gust of warm air that chilled Marcy to the bone. “Good night, Mother.” The door slammed behind him, clipping his words even more than the coolness of his tone.

  She slipped her arms around Patrick and laid her head against his chest. His heart was racing and his muscles were stiff. “Let it go, my love,” she said quietly. “He’s not a little boy anymore, he’s a man. We have to allow him some freedom.”

  His rib cage expanded with a heavy sigh. “Freedom to thwart us at every turn.”

  She pulled away and touched a palm to his face. “We have good children who sometimes go through difficult times. Look at Charity – she’s settled down and hasn’t been trouble since.”

  His lips quirked. “That’s because Mitch has to contend with her now.”

  Marcy smiled. “Even so, Steven and Katie will both be fine too, you’ll see.”

  He released a weary breath and lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. “And you want more children,” he said with a jag of his brow. He bent to brush a light kiss to her lips, his tone thick with sarcasm and more than a little tease. “I swear, you’re killing me, woman.”

  She grinned and kissed him back. “I hope not. I can’t raise them alone.”

  With a tug of her hand, he ushered her to the staircase, pulling her close to bury his lips in the crook of her neck. “Mmm . . . I suggest you head up and get ready for bed, Marceline, while I lock the doors and turn out the lights. I believe the fine print said ‘whatever I ask.’”

  She smiled and started up the steps, then whirled around to hug his neck. “Oh, Patrick, I love you so much – more than I can ever express.”

  The edges of his mouth tilted into a dangerous smile while he assessed her through gentle eyes. “Yes, well, I suggest you keep that in mind, darlin’,” he said in a husky tone. He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose, then headed to the parlor with a purposeful stride. “Especially when I come to collect.”

  11

  A boulder in his gut. That’s what it felt like as Luke stared out his office window in a daze, oblivious to the blare of horns and the shriek of police whistles that always accompanied Friday-night rush hour. He leaned back in the chair and put a hand to his eyes, legs crossed on the sill and his heart as heavy as the ton of rocks Carmichael unloaded this week.

  Come Monday morning, Gabe would be gone – and there was not a blasted thing he could do about it. Luke squeezed his eyes shut, and the very thought forced moisture to well beneath his lids. He swabbed them with the sleeve of his arm, then massaged his temples to ease the onset of the headache that was sure to follow.

  It wasn’t fair, he railed to himself. She deserved so much more. More than a ticket on a train bound for the Midwest, more than total strangers to depend on, and certainly more than leaving the only home she’d ever known. He released a halting breath. She deserved what Brady had given him – a chance to get off the streets and learn that not all people were bad. A chance to make something of herself and prove she was more than riffraff. He opened his eyes, allowing them to trail into a dead stare as a knot shifted in his throat. A chance to know there was a God in heaven who actually cared for every matted hair on her stubborn little head.

  I will not leave you orphans . . .

  Luke thought of the Scripture Brady had given him so long ago, and he gouged his eyes with the pads of his fingers. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to take her himself. Raise her, love her, teach her what Brady had taught him. But neither he nor Carmichael could allow that. Gabe needed a home that was solid and stable, two parents that would give her the love she deserved. And this was a chance for that – a home, a family that could change her life forever.

  If she didn’t run away first.

  No! He bolted up, beads of sweat blistering the back of his neck and his breathing harsh and fast. But somehow he knew she would. He gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles pinched white. She’d run away and be lost forever, alone and vulnerable. The very thought caused fear to feather his spine.

  Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it fear.

  His breathing slowed and his gaze jerked up, scanning the heavens. “You said you would never leave us nor forsake us, Lord, but where are you in all of this? Gabe needs you, and I need you. I’ve prayed for months for a good home for her, you know that, and yet there’s been nothing.” He sucked in a deep breath and sagged back into his chair, releasing the air in his lungs as thoroughly as he knew he had to release Gabe . . . into God’s hands. “Forgive me, Lord, because I do trust you. You’ve never failed me, not once since I’ve given my life to you. So I believe you have Gabe in the palm of your hand because you’ve proven yourself faithful to me over and over. And one way or the other, you always answer my prayers.”

  A knock sounded, and he spun around, spying Katie at the door. His lips quirked into a half smile. Well, almost always, he thought as her blue eyes peeked in.

  “I’m leaving now, Luke. Is there anything you need before I go?”

  Yeah, Katie, a hug would be nice.

  Heat singed the back of his neck and he coughed, clearing his throat. “No, I’m good. Have fun this weekend.” His brows pinched in a frown. “Oh, sorry – are you still on confinement?”

  She grinned and sidled past the door, closing it carefully behind her with a pretty blush on her cheeks. “Yes, until tomorrow night, that is, when I have my first date with Jack in over two and a half months.”

  Luke forced a smile to cover the scowl in his mind. “Lucky Jack,” he said with a tease in his tone, but truer words had never crossed his lips, and suddenly the thought blackened his mood further. Over the summer, he’d made the startling discovery that Katie O’Connor was everything he wanted in a woman, and somehow he’d known it from the age of fourteen. With little or no effort on her part, she had won his affection – from a cold shoulder at the age of ten, to a teasing smile at the age of eighteen – and Luke would give anything to be more than just friends. But they had a deal, and she had a boyfriend, and Luke was a man of his word. The scowl finally won out as he looked away, intent on shoving papers into a drawer.

  She hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t need anything before I go? You look . . . tense.”

  Tense? Because two people he loved were leaving his life forever? He blew out a sigh of frustration and wheeled in his chair to stare out the window. “No, Katie, go home. I’m just down about Gabe, that’s all. Go on, get out of here and have fun this weekend.”

  Go home to Jack, Katie Rose.

  His stomach tightened at the sudden click of her heels, and shock expanded his eyes when she perched herself on the edge of his window. She crossed silky legs and leaned forward, palms flat on the sill and blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Her mouth twitched with a smile, as if a secret hovered behind those full, sensuous lips, and the tease of her proximity triggered hi
s pulse till he thought he couldn’t breathe. A gentle breeze from the window rustled her silk dress, and the scent of roses drifted in the air, warming his blood.

  “What’s on your mind, Katie?” he asked, heat crawling up his neck at the realization of what was on his.

  “The same thing that’s on yours, apparently,” she said with a mysterious smile. “Gabe.”

  His pulse slowed. “Gabe? What about her?”

  Katie bit her lip and then grinned outright. “I have a foster family for her.”

  He sat up straight in the chair, fingers gripped white on the arm. “W-What? W-Where?” His words tripped over his tongue, moving faster than the hammering of his heart.

  Her laughter floated in the air like the sound of hope. “A wonderful family, really – large, well-to-do, and so full of love that Gabe will think she died and went to heaven.”

  He couldn’t help it – tears stung his eyes. “Who?” he whispered.

  Her gaze was tender as she studied him, the wetness in her eyes matching his own. “The O’Connors of Boston,” she said softly, then put a hand to her chest and blinked back her tears. “Goodness, you think she’ll mind sharing a room?”

  He stared, disbelief stealing the air from his lungs. And then in a jolt of comprehension, it whooshed back in, flooding his body with such joy and emotion, he thought he would faint. In one frantic clip of his heart, he swallowed Katie up in his arms and squeezed as if he would never let go, his deep laughter rumbling against her hair. “Woman, I could just kiss you,” he shouted, and then all at once his breathing stilled as he set her back down, suddenly aware of her body pressed against his, the burn of his hand on the small of her back.

  Their gazes met, and heat traveled his bloodstream like alcohol, drowning all inhibition he may have felt. He saw the vulnerability in those wide blue eyes, heard the tremulous breathing drifting from those soft, parted lips, and all reason fled from his brain, disarming all good intent. In slow and careful motion, his hands cupped the sides of her face like a caress, his gaze fixed on her mouth before shifting to lose himself in her eyes. He feathered her lips with the pad of his thumb. “Thank you, Katie Rose,” he whispered, “for giving me so much joy.”