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.
You just have to have faith. Her statement to Katie returned, mocking her for her fear. She bit her lip hard, ashamed of her deception. Patrick had a right to know, but what if something happened? What if the pain returned when he mounted those steps? What if his heart faltered when he returned to her bed? Patrick O’Connor was a passionate man who’d been deprived of her love for over two months now. Dear God, what if . . . ?
No! She closed her eyes while the air thinned in her throat. She just wouldn’t tell him . . . not yet. Just one more month, God, she pleaded. I love him too much, and I’m just so afraid . . .
Perfect love casteth out fear . . .
A silent groan rose in her throat as she opened her eyes. “Please don’t make me . . .”
And he that feareth is not made perfect in love.
She exhaled slowly, as if to expel her apprehension. “Forgive me,” she whispered as she sat up in the bed. “And please – give me strength to put him in your capable hands.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she shook Katie from her sleep. “Come on, darling, I’ll walk you to bed.” She ushered her groggy daughter to her room and gave her a hug. “Good night, Katie Rose,” she whispered with a soft kiss.
“Good night, Mother.”
Marcy closed Katie’s door and padded down the hall. Her steps slowed at the stairs as indecision railed in her mind. I should really let him sleep, Lord . . . he needs his rest . . .
Conviction pierced. Perfect love . . .
Squaring her shoulders, she made her way down the stairs and into the parlor, and the moment her foot touched the threshold, she was overcome by such a rush of love that her throat ached. Ornaments and tinsel twinkled in the waning light of the flickering fire, bathing her husband’s bed in shadows that shimmered and danced across his thin cover. She heard his soft grunt as he snored on his back, legs spread-eagle and hands folded on his chest. Strong, capable hands that rose and fell with the beat of the heart that was so connected to hers. She hesitated. But he looks so peaceful, Lord . . .
Do it, Marceline. She smiled then, almost hearing God’s voice, so like her husband’s.
“Yes, Lord,” she said and moved toward his bed. She bent to brush a kiss to his lips.
He jolted awake and blinked. “Marcy?”
“Merry Christmas, darling. I have a surprise.”
A sleepy grin curved on his lips as he lifted the covers and pulled her in, nuzzling her neck. “What’s it this time, darlin’, a Christmas hug because you pity your husband?”
“Yes, and more,” she whispered, snuggling close. “For starters, Katie and Parker may get serious. He told her he’s falling in love with her.”
“Ah, thank you, God, the gene pool!” His chuckle was sleepy. “How does she feel?”
“Well, her feelings for Luke are still a factor, I think, but I hope I convinced her that if Parker is the man God has for her, it will all work out.”
“Amen to that,” Patrick said with a yawn. “What else?” He tucked her close.
“Well, I spoke with the doctor and . . .” She kissed his jaw, the bristle tickling her lips.
He gripped her arms and held her away. “And?”
With the tip of her toe, she slowly trailed his leg with a gentle tease. “He said your tests all looked good and although he doesn’t want you back at work before the three months are up, you can . . . if you’re able . . .” She paused to feather a kiss at the edge of his mouth.
The fingers tightened on her arm. “Marceline!”
“Resume normal activities,” she finished with a grin. Her finger traced his lips in a playful caress. “Such as stairs, your pipe, newspapers, and radio.”
With a low groan, he pressed her to his pillow and devoured her with his lips. He jerked back, his breathing uneven. “Normal activities . . . does that mean . . . everything?” She stared up at his handsome face and knew then that not only was God giving her husband a gift tonight, but he had given her the greatest gift of all, aside from his Son – Patrick’s love. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Everything,” she whispered.
“Thank you, God,” he rasped, kissing her so deeply, his moan melted in her mouth. “I love you, Marceline . . .” He pulled away and grinned, brushing the hair from her eyes. “I hope those are tears of joy, darlin’, and not that you have to share a bed once again and put up with my snoring.”
A tear trickled down her temple as she smiled. She put a hand to his scratchy jaw. “I’ll gladly put up with whatever you dole out, Patrick O’Connor – your snoring, your kisses, your love . . .”
A throaty chuckle rumbled against her ear as he fondled the lobe of her ear with his mouth. His hands and lips explored, and her breathing accelerated. “Heaven help me, darlin’, do you have any idea just how much I’ve missed you?” He kissed her again, stealing her grin away.
Yes, she thought with another shiver of heat, I do.
And they never made it back to their room.
“Have you heard from Luke and Betty lately?” Lizzie asked. She patted six-month-old Molly on the back, a chub of a thing who sat on her mother’s lap with Gerber baby food ringing her mouth. Pink cheeks hung like overripe peaches as she sat hunched, quivering with every tap of Lizzie’s hand.
The essence of spring drifted into the partially open window over the sink, bringing with it the chatter of birds and children in the backyard and the earthy scent of mulch. A balmy May breeze fluttered both the tiny chestnut curls on Molly’s head and the pretty spray of lilacs that graced the table, mixed with Marcy’s creamy tulips in a crystal vase. An impressive burp bubbled from the baby’s mouth, and everyone looked up from their sewing.
Charity arched a brow. “Goodness, she could give Henry a run for his money.”
Lizzie grinned and returned her focus to Katie. “Brady talks to Luke every month or so, of course, but they never talk about important things like the names they’ve picked out or if she’s carrying high or low. Does Parker give you any details, Katie?”
Katie squinted at the hem she was basting and smiled, grateful that the mere mention of Luke’s name no longer caused a sharp stab of pain. Almost six months had passed since she’d seen Luke McGee, and between Parker and prayer, her heart was finally healing. She had wanted to take it slowly with Parker at first, but that had all changed when she’d discovered how safe and comfortable he made her feel. Safe from the pain of Luke. So when he had asked her to marry him last month, she had said yes, working hard to focus her thoughts only on him. And it was working – she was finally happy again. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, offering silent gratitude.
She looked up with a hike of her brow. “Parker? Details? Not unless they’re attached to an adoption report or nailed to a chessboard.”
“Really? I would think Parker would be good at details,” Faith said, threading a needle. “He seems so sensitive about stuff like that, like helping you pick out china and things.”
Katie’s lips quirked. “Sensitive, yes, about details that relate to me. But details relating to a baby? Uh, no. There’s nobod
y more sensitive than Collin, Faith, but can you see him gleaning details about baby names, the color of the nursery, or if a baby is carried high or low?”
Faith smiled. “I guess not. I suppose they’re all a little too male to focus on the really important things. So when is Betty due again?”
Katie’s eyes flitted to Marcy’s calendar hanging on the cupboard door. She squinted. “I’m not sure of the exact date, but I would think any day now.” She glanced out the window, anxious to change the subject. “Don’t look now, Charity, but Henry has a stick – ”
Charity jolted to her feet, hands on her hips as she stood at the screen door. “Henry, drop that stick right now – and not on your sister’s head – or so help me, I will come out there and slobber you with kisses.” She closed the door and peered out the window. “Men,” she muttered, “what is it with power, taking control every chance they get?”
A husky chuckle tripped from Faith’s lips. “Well, in Mitch and Henry’s case, I’d say it’s because they so seldom get to.”
Charity shot her a narrow gaze. “I’ve gotten better at that. Just ask Mitch.”
“With or without you in the room?” Katie teased.
Charity plopped back into her chair and picked up the trousers she was mending. “Without,” she said with a shift of her lips. “After all, I don’t want to tempt the man to lie.”
Faith grinned and then glanced up at her mother. “So, how are things at the Herald, Mother – are there still rumors of staff cuts as far as you know?”
Marcy sighed. “Yes, apparently. And now Patrick tells me that he and his editors have agreed to take a pay cut for the time being, just until things pick back up.”
“Which may not be all that long, according to Father,” Katie said, trying to put a positive spin on the conversation. “He says he’s encouraged that the stock market is climbing again. And government and business actually spent more in the first half of this year than the same time last year, so that’s got to help too.”
“Except according to Mitch, most consumers have cut way back on their spending, especially those who lost heavily in the market.” Charity sighed. “And believe me, we’ve certainly felt the pinch at the store.”
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