Collin exhaled deeply. He missed seeing Charity, but he needed time to sort things out, time to think about what to do, and time to break the spell her sister had cast.
"Collin? Did ya hear me? How about Brannigan's?" Jackson's voice broke through the stream of consciousness that had become a state of mind for Collin of late. Collin stared blankly.
"You know, Collin, you're really starting to scare me. You gotta snap out of it. No woman is worth this."
No woman is worth this. The impact of Jackson's words stung like a fist to his face. No woman would ever possess him. Thoughts of his mother and how she had destroyed his father came to him, and everything within told him he had to fight it, fight with every inch of his will. He would discipline his mind not to think of her. He would lose himself in Charity and insulate his heart with her love so completely that Faith O'Connor would never control him. Not in his thoughts-or in his heart-ever again. As if jolted out of a daze, Collin grabbed his friend at the waist and lifted him in a bear hug, taking Jackson by surprise.
"What the ... Collin, are you crazy?"
Collin just laughed, the first deep-down belly laugh he had enjoyed in a very long time. "I love you, you know that, you big idiot!"
"You are crazy, I swear!" Jackson said, grinning. "A minute ago you looked like death; now you're lit up like a Christmas tree. Why the change of heart?"
Collin breathed in the cold night air, its briskness filling his lungs with energy. "Great choice of words, my friend. It is, indeed, a change of heart. And you're right once again, old buddy-no woman is worth this. I will have that drink with you, tired as I am. Let's celebrate!"
I knew I could count on you. What are we celebrating? Your resurrection from the dead?"
Collin smacked Jackson on the back and swung his arm around his shoulder, grinning like the Collin of old. "Something like that. What d'ya say we drink a toast to marriage?"
"Marriage?"
"That's right, old buddy, marriage. I'm thinking of joining the club."
Faith never ceased to marvel at the warmth and intimacy of Mrs. Gerson's home, given the fact that Christa Gerson was nearly sightless. Softly hued walls were graced with pictures hung with near-perfect precision. Cozy furnishings, although dated, were tastefully arranged for both visual beauty and ease of movement throughout the parlor. The dining room table was covered with a hand-crocheted tablecloth and set with bone china and silver candlesticks in anticipation of a special dinner Mrs. Gerson insisted on preparing for Faith and her friends.
Faith watched her now as she bustled about the kitchen, a peaceful look in her vacant eyes, and once again marveled at the second thing that amazed her about this remarkable woman.
Despite the darkness she lived within, Mrs. Gerson always emanated a sense of peace. "My darkness is flooded with the light of Jesus," she would tell Faith, and Faith never saw evidence otherwise. Although a woman of considerable means and blessed with a number of good friends and neighbors to assist, Mrs. Gerson was quite alone in the world when it came to family. She had suffered more than her fair share of heartbreak. She had met and married her beloved Oscar at the tender age of sixteen back in the old country, and theirs had been a marriage made in heaven. They set out for a new life in America, Oscar hoping to capitalize on his skills as a master craftsman of fine clocks and watches. And so he had.
But despite their material success, both longed for a family. And finally, after fourteen years of marriage, Christa Gerson gave birth to their only child, Herbert Roland Gerson. Their lives were complete; no family was happier, until the day everything changed.
Sadness settled over Faith as she remembered the pain on Mrs. Gerson's face when she'd first spoken about it.
It had been a gloriously snow-laden winter, Mrs. Gerson told her, and Herbert had pleaded to go skating with friends at the lake.
"You may go, Herbert," she had lectured, "but stay to the sides of the lake; do not venture into the middle where the ice is thin. Is that clear?"
Herbert had nodded, throwing his arms around his mother with great passion. "I'll miss you, Mama," he said before dashing out the door. And then he was gone, both from the house and from her life-forever.
Never had she known such pain or darkness. But for all she felt, it had been Oscar who'd borne the brunt of the tragedy. He was never the same after Herbert's death, and although he was a relatively young man at fortyeight years of age, his health began to deteriorate, leaving Christa to bury her grief in the exhaustive care of her ailing husband.
When Oscar died several years later, Mrs. Gerson was bitter at life and especially at God. She closed herself off from the church she and Oscar had attended for so many years. But in her seclusion, she quickly found she had nowhere else to turn but to God. And then one day, she had reached for the Bible that lay on her mantel, sadly neglected beneath a layer of dust. The words she read were like a balm to her tortured soul, and she found she couldn't get enough of the tranquility they invoked in her heart.
Tears sprang to Faith's eyes as she now studied the woman who hummed about in her kitchen. That had been the true beginning of her life with God, she told Faith, the moment she dropped to her knees and recommitted her life to Christ. No longer could she live for Oscar and Herbert, so she would live for God. He became the only thing that sustained her, keeping her from the pain of the past and allowing her to remain, despite the onset of near blindness ten years later, in the glorious light of his unshakable love.
As Faith watched her now, she felt such an awe and respect for this woman whom Marcy had once coerced her to befriend. "But the Bible, Mother? She only wants me to read the Bible? Can't I take some of my favorite books to read to her?"
Faith recalled her mother gently cupping her chin. "She's asking for someone to read the Bible, Faith, nothing else."
"But, I'll go crazy, Mother! The Bible! It's so boring."
Her mother had smiled and gently pushed a strand of hair from Faith's face. "Not when reading it gives someone so much joy."
And so, with great reservation, Faith agreed to read to the blind woman weekly, thinking it would be good to give of her time to such a worthy cause. But as it always seemed to happen when God was involved, she ended up on the receiving end. This remarkable woman opened her young eyes to the depth and intensity of God's love for her. Throughout all the travail of adolescence and the insecurities Faith endured at the hand of her sister, the knowledge of God's personal love for her, Faith O'Connor, became an inner core of strength like nothing she'd ever experienced before. He was always with her, and the peace of his presence prompted her to commit her life to God, just as Mrs. Gerson had. It was a decision that never failed to bring her joy. It was Faith's hope that Mrs. Gerson could do the same for Briana.
Over the last month, Faith had gotten to know Briana better, only to discover that her involvement with Collin was the very least of her problems. When she was a girl, her alcoholic father had often come to her room at night, almost up until the day he died. Briana's mother had simply turned a blind eye to it all, and to Briana as well. Briana compensated with a hard veneer, which Faith managed to penetrate through prayer and persistence. It was slow, but they were becoming friends.
The dinner Mrs. Gerson prepared was magnificent, and Faith couldn't remember when she'd eaten so much. Apparently Briana and Maisie were feeling the same way. When the meal was over, all three moaned, pushing their chairs back from the table, stuffed but content.
Mrs. Gerson poured tea, obviously enjoying the role of hostess. Spooning a bit of sugar into her cup, she turned her full attention to Briana. "So, Briana, Faith tells me you are no longer seeing this Collin McGuire. That must be very difficult for you. I understand you care for him very much."
The relaxed smile on Briana's face faded as she shifted in the chair. "It is. But Faith has been praying for me, and I guess you have too, because somehow I've been able to do it. I haven't seen Collin since the last time I was at Brannigan's when I told him I couldn
't..." Briana blushed slightly. "Well, you know ... I told him no."
"And he hasn't bothered you since?"
Briana shook her head, a real sadness in her eyes. "No, he hasn't. Oh, he was angry with me at the time, almost like he actually cared, but he doesn't really. I think he was angry at Faith."
Faith stopped chewing, her jaw suddenly stiff and cheeks lumpy with one of Mrs. Gerson's sugar cookies.
"Angry with Faith?" Mrs. Gerson seemed confused.
"Yes, at least I think so. When he asked me why, I told him I had been talking to this girl at work and mentioned it was someone he knew. The minute I told him Faith's name, he went quite pale, and I don't think I've ever seen him so angry before. He slammed his beer on the bar, spilling it everywhere, all over me, all over him. I smelled like a brewery. He muttered something about. . ." Briana blushed, glancing at Faith. "Well, I can't exactly repeat the word he used, but something about that "blank" woman interfering in his life.' And then he left, just like that. That was awhile ago, of course. I haven't been to Brannigan's since."
Maisie and Faith exchanged looks.
"That's good, Briana," Mrs. Gerson said, pausing to reach for a cookie off the plate in the center of the table. "Briana, do you enjoy games?"
Briana blinked. "I suppose so, at least I did when I was young. Why do you ask?"
"Games are great fun, especially when you win. But, to win it takes great skill, and of course, you have to follow the rules." Mrs. Gerson munched thoughtfully, her tongue swiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth.
"Yes, of course ..."
"You know, Briana, I think of life as very much like a game. The one who created it gave us the rules by which it is to be played, rules designed to help us win, rules to help us be happy. The problem is many times we choose to play by our own rules, and then we're at a loss to understand why we never win."
Mrs. Gerson leaned forward to stare straight at Briana as if her vacant eyes could see her clearly. "God has a great deal of love for you, Briana. He made you, and he's given you his Word as the rule book for your life. He wants you to win, but to do so, you must follow his rules. Up to now, you haven't experienced a lot of genuine love in your life, but that's going to change. You've been looking for love in ways contrary to God's law. You thought you could find that love in an intimate relationship with Collin, but you found only heartache."
Mrs. Gerson paused to take a sip of her tea, then patted her mouth with a napkin. "The love you're seeking is available, Briana. In fact, it's exactly what God has in mind. It's right there in the rule book-the Bible. It says in Ephesians 5:22, 'Husbands, cherish your wives.' Tell me, Briana, do you know what cherish means?"
"To love and care for, I suppose." Briana's eyes were fixed on the old woman's face.
"Yes, my dear, and much more. It means to hold dear, to protect, to view as the most precious thing in your life. If it's in God's plan for you to marry, he wants it to be a man who will cherish you-love you to the depth of his soul, just like God does. But for that to happen, my dear, you must commit yourself to this God who loves you far more than any man ever could. And when you do and then follow his Word, it will lead you to the kind of love your heart longs for, not lustful love like you experienced with Collin. The Bible says the wages of sin is death. God's Word admonishes us to flee sexual sin. Why? Because he knows it's not only death to your soul, but death to the kind of love you're seeking. Death to the only kind of love that will ever make you happy. The choice is yours, Briana, but trust me, the strength to do it is all his."
Briana's eyes glistened with wetness as she stared at Mrs. Gerson. Her gaze flitted to Faith, then back to the old woman's face. Wiping her eyes with her hand, she sat up straight, pushing her chin out. "I want it, Mrs. Gerson. I want what you and Faith have. How do I get it?"
The old woman beamed and nodded her head. Faith stole a glimpse at Maisie, who was watching the entire scene with curiosity.
"It's simply a heart thing, Briana. All you have to do is acknowledge you're a sinner and that Jesus is your Savior. Then simply ask him to come into your heart and be Lord of your life. You'll never be alone again. I'll be delighted to lead you in prayer and then, if you like, you may keep one of my Bibles to see all he has in store for you. I can assure you, my dear, your life will never be the same." Mrs. Gerson took Briana's hands in hers. "Shall we?"
Briana nodded, her hands trembling. "Yes, please," she whispered.
With the softest of smiles gentling her lips, Mrs. Gerson nodded and led them in prayer, her voice strong and sure as they all bowed their heads.
Marcy was extremely worried about Charity. She'd never seen her daughter depressed for such a long period of time, and her concern was growing with each passing week. Patrick tried to comfort her, but Marcy knew he took a more practical view of his daughter's state of mind.
"She's a bit heartbroken over this McGuire boy, that's all, which is natural, I suppose, given the influence he's had over her. I'm just grateful it's over. She'll get past it soon enough."
His words did little to console Marcy as she lit the candles on Charity's birthday cake. "I hope you're right, Patrick. It just breaks my heart to see her like this, especially on her birthday. Seventeen! My goodness, where did the time go?"
"All to Charity, for sure, because it certainly hasn't touched you, my love." Patrick slipped his arms around Marcy's waist and buried his face in her hair.
Marcy gave him a wry smile. "Mmm, a case of being blinded by love, I think." She handed him a stack of plates to carry in.
Charity hardly seemed like a girl celebrating her birthday. She smiled as Marcy set the cake in front of her, but to Marcy, it was a hollow smile. She was thinner than she'd been, and more than Marcy liked. Most evenings Charity would sit quietly at the table and pick at her food, offering very little to the lively family conversations that always ensued in the O'Connor household. Even her complexion seemed to have lost some of its usual creamy glow.
"Don't forget to make a wish," Katie reminded before Charity blew out the candles. "You're gonna get your wish, you're gonna get your wish!" Katie was ecstatic as she bounced up and down on her chair.
Even Charity seemed brighter. "Oh, I hope so," she whispered, a bit of the glow creeping back into her cheeks. Marcy gave her a warm smile.
Everyone devoured the cake, including Charity. When plates were empty, Marcy jumped up from the table, eyes twinkling. "Ready for presents? Let's head into the parlor."
Charity positioned herself in the seat of honor-Marcy's rocking chair by the fire-while Marcy brought in an impressive stack of presents. With great fanfare, she placed them before the birthday girl, hugging her daughter tightly. "My little girl-a woman of seventeen!"
"Hey, I'm your little girl, Mama!" Katie's tone was indignant. Marcy scooped her up in her arms, tickling until Katie squealed with glee.
The family watched while Charity opened her presents one by one: a brooch from Sean, a poem from Beth, and a handmade clay dish from Steven-to put her hairpins in, he said.
Faith grinned when Charity opened her gift-a lovely red woolen scarf she had crocheted herself. "In place of the one you 'borrowed' from my drawer," she said with mock indignation.
A soft giggle escaped Charity's lips. She gave Faith an innocent smile. "Mmm ... now I have two!"
"Open mine next!" Katie demanded, beaming with pride as Charity unwrapped her present-a picture of the birthday girl herself made out of navy beans glued to paper. Charity oohed and aahed with great relish, holding it up for everyone to see while Katie took a bow.
When Charity opened the last present, she seemed pleased with the new blouse and skirt Marcy had picked out for her. Nodding at her family, she smiled and thanked each of them again, appearing to be quite taken with their generosity.
"Well, that's it, I guess . . ." Charity said, stooping to retrieve bits of torn paper and bows.
Marcy grinned at Patrick, then rose from the chair. "Not quite." Pulling a tiny box
from her pocket, she placed it in front of her daughter. "Happy birthday, darling," Marcy whispered. She stepped back to view the surprise on Charity's face.
Charity tore the paper off and lifted the lid, gasping when she saw its contents. In the box lay two delicate silver earrings. Slowly she lifted one to her ear, her face luminous. "Mother, they're beautiful ... so beautiful!"
"They were your grandmother's. She gave them to me when I was your age. I've given her brooch to Faith and wanted you to have these. I hope you like them."
Charity bounced from the chair to fling herself into her mother's arms. "I love them, Mother, almost as much as I love you." Sniffing, she swabbed her face with her hands and approached Patrick. He seemed surprised as she hugged him at length. When she pulled away, his eyes were moist. "Thank you so much, Father. I love you too," she said in a husky voice.
Patrick squeezed her hand. "I love my girl," he whispered. Charity smiled at him shyly.
"Did you get your wish?" Katie asked.
"Not yet, but I have faith."
Patrick stood and stretched. "Okay, Katie, Steven, Bethtime for bed."
"I don't want to go to bed," Katie announced, clearly annoyed the festivities had come to an end. "I want to celebrate Charity's birthday some more."
A Passion Most Pure (Daughters of Boston, Book 1) Page 11