Patrick heaved his youngest daughter to his shoulders. "You'll just have to celebrate in bed, young lady. Steven, don't forget your shoes."
"Up for a game of chess tonight, Father?" Sean asked.
Patrick hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No, better not, Sean. It was a tiring day at the paper. I think I'll call it a day. But maybe Faith will play."
Faith yawned. "Well, it's no fun beating him all the time, but I suppose I could give him a chance to redeem his pride."
Sean laughed and threw a pillow at her face. A knock sounded at the door. Charity looked up in surprise as Marcy hurried to answer it. Patrick stopped and turned on the steps while Katie dug her heels into his chest. "Giddyup, Daddy!"
"For mercy's sake, who do you suppose it could be at this late hour?" Marcy asked with a smile. She opened the door. Her fingers went cold on the knob, and a rush of air lodged in her throat. Collin McGuire stood on the stoop, polite expression in place and present in hand. Marcy's smile stiffened. Without a word, she turned to look up at her husband. Patrick slowly put Katie down on the steps, appearing oblivious that she squealed into the parlor once again. His eyes were flecked with granite as he stared, first at Collin, then at Charity to gauge her reaction.
Faith stood like stone, her face and fingers chilled. In her brain, the room stilled to a dreamlike state, words and movement coagulating into slow motion. She fixed her gaze on her sister, unable to shift it to where Collin stood at the door.
The look on Charity's face was truly a sight to behold. The glow was back in full force, and her eyes were glittering like diamonds. Her beauty seemed intensified as she gazed at the man who held both of their hearts. Charity's lips quivered into a shy smile, and her fingers floated to the collar of her dress.
Clearing his throat, Collin addressed her father with a rare note of humility in his voice. "Mr. O'Connor, I apologize for barging in like this, I really do. But I couldn't let Charity's birthday pass without letting her know how much she means to me."
His words drew a gasp from Charity. Faith's gaze darted to her father, who appeared unflinching as his lips flattened in a hard line.
"Who is he, Mama?" Katie asked. Elizabeth watched the whole scenario with great fascination while Steven yawned. Faith forced herself to breathe.
"My name is Collin McGuire," he said to Katie, "and I'm in love with your sister."
Charity's fingers fluttered to her lips while the wind hitched in Faith's throat. She began to cough, her eyes watering as she glanced at Collin.
"Which one?" Katie wanted to know. A smile flickered on Collin's face.
"I thought I told you to leave my daughter alone," her father hissed. The gray of his eyes eclipsed to black. His mouth slashed into a scowl.
Collin turned to him without a trace of sarcasm. "Yes, sir, you did. And I've tried. I haven't seen Charity for close to two months now, and it's made me realize I don't want to go on without her. I know you don't like me, Mr. O'Connor, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to win your respect."
"Whatever it takes?" Her father's tone was scathing.
"Yes, sir. I don't expect you to let me waltz right back into her life, but I do want you to know I've been working double shifts for a while now, and I'm saving real hard. I'm trying to be the kind of man you'd want for your daughter. I'll do whatever you want, Mr. O'Connor-follow any rules you set down-only please give me a chance. I love your daughter, sir."
Her mother stepped forward and gently touched her father's sleeve. "It is her birthday, Patrick," she said quietly. "At the very least, shouldn't we allow him to give her his present?"
Her father glared and waved him into the parlor, causing Charity to weep louder.
Collin grinned sheepishly. "Charity, don't cry, please. I'm not here to make you cry."
Charity laughed and pushed the tears across her face. Collin handed her a handkerchief. Like a little girl, Charity blew her nose loudly and laughed again, taking the gift from Collin's hand. Trembling, she opened the box and uttered a cry of delight as she held a beautiful mother-ofpearl comb to the light. The tears reappeared. This time, Collin grabbed the handkerchief and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. "It's not a lot, Charity, but someday I hope to give you much more."
Her father cleared his throat, and her mother shot him a pleading look. Faith, desperate to convey an air of calm, quietly moved to the love seat, where she sat ramrod straight, hands clasped tightly in her lap.
Charity looked radiant, clutching the comb to her chest. "I love it, Collin, more than anything in the world!"
Her father exhaled a hiss of air through clenched teeth.
"Mother, will you help me? I want Collin to see it in my hair. Please?" Charity turned to her father, her eyes entreating his permission. "Father, may I try it on ... please?"
The breath stilled in Faith's throat. Her father finally nodded, causing Charity to squeal and snatch her mother's hand. The two skittered upstairs while her father sighed and picked Katie up in his arms.
Slowly, absently, Faith pressed a hand to her stomach to quell the nausea that was rising in her throat.
"Faith, would you be kind enough to get our guest a drink while I take Katie upstairs?" her father asked. "Beth, you too. Where's Steven?" His eyes scanned the room and spotted Steven asleep on the floor. "Sean, would you carry him up for me, please?" He turned to Collin. "You're welcome to take a seat. We'll talk after I put Katie to bed."
Collin nodded and perched on the arm of the sofa. Faith felt the heat of his stare as she rushed from the room. Inside the sanctuary of the kitchen, her mind hazed to a near stupor, her oxygen supply greatly impaired. How could this be happening? She leaned hard against the kitchen table, hands pressed white and knees teetering, then flinched when the kitchen door creaked open. She jerked and spun around too quickly. Her discomfort lured a smile to his lips.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, her breath thick in her throat.
Collin's eyes never left hers as he sauntered within inches of where she stood. "Getting a drink."
She stepped back and stumbled against a chair. He laughed.
"You're crazy!" she whispered.
He laughed again. Sliding a chair out, he sat and straddled it, arms relaxed as they hung loosely over the back. "You've called me that before, but now ... well, now I think it's probably true." He cocked his head, his eyes dark pools of heat as he studied her. "I am crazy-about your sister. I'm going to marry her."
His statement found its mark, coldcocking her like an electric shock. She sank into the chair, her breath cleaving to her tongue. She licked the dryness from her lips and closed her eyes.
She heard him shift in the seat before he suddenly leaped to his feet. She opened her eyes to see him glaring at her, his eyes glinting like jagged quartz. He took a deep breath and bent over the chair, fingers bloodless as they gripped its back. "So help me, Faith, you provoke me-more than any woman I've ever met. I find myself wanting to hurt you, then end up getting hurt instead. Well, there's nothing you can do about Charity and me. She cares for me, just as I am. And I don't have to change one bit for her. That's more than I can say for you." He started for the door.
She looked up. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I've always cared for you just as you are."
Collin stopped and turned, the color leeching from his face. "What? What did you say?"
It was an effort to stand, but she did, hand propped on the table for support. In hypnotic motion, her gaze lifted to his. "I said, I've always cared for you ... since I was a little girl. You're everything I ever wanted, except ..."
Collin looked as if she had spat in his face. His lips steeled into a slit. "Except I don't believe in your God," he hissed. The statement seemed to suck the air from the room. He took a deep breath and braced his hand against the door. "That doesn't matter to Charity."
"My father will never allow you to marry her, you know." Her tone was listless as she stared at the floor.
"
Yes, he will. You underestimate the power of my charm. I'll become a changed man. You'll see, I'll win him over."
Faith looked at the man who owned her heart. A sad smile shadowed her lips. "You're willing to change. Just not for me."
The hard line of his chin angled as his gray eyes seared hers. "I'll change on the outside to suit your father. I'd have to change my soul to suit you."
She nodded and stood. "It's going to be difficult, you know. I'll never get used to it."
His voice gentled. "You will, and so will I. I do care for your sister."
She tried to smile. "What do you want to drink?" she asked.
"What do you have?" he responded, and Faith walked to the icebox.
"Nothing strong enough to suit you." Her voice was flat, with just an edge.
Collin smiled. "That's okay. I'm thinking of giving it up"
Patrick watched from the bed while Marcy rigorously brushed her hair with the routine one hundred strokes, but it was one of the rare moments when his mind was not on his wife. It had been a very disturbing evening, to say the least. He cuffed his pillow then turned on his side to get comfortable, but it was useless. Sleep would not come easily tonight, not while he had the complexities of his daughter's love life weighing so heavily on his mind.
Marcy completed her regimen, turned out the light, and hurried to slip into the warmth of their bed. She leaned over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Instinctively, his arm reached to pull her to him, and she snuggled into the warmth of his embrace. "She looked happy, didn't she?" Marcy's tone sounded hopeful but cautious.
"Mmm," he responded, certain Charity's happiness over Collin was not a good thing.
"What are we going to do?"
"I don't know, darlin'."
"You know, Patrick, meeting him, talking with him, well, he really doesn't seem so bad."
"He's a man, Marcy. Charity's a child."
"She's seventeen, Patrick-she'll be graduating in May. We have to face the fact she's become a young woman." Marcy hesitated, obviously waiting for a response, but this time none came. She continued. "She loves him, Patrick, and he seems to care for her."
Patrick shifted away from his wife to punch at his pillow again. He turned to lie flat on his back. "She doesn't know the first thing about love, Marcy, and as far as Collin McGuire goes, it's not love on his mind."
Marcy sat up in the bed and reached for his hand. "Patrick, maybe if we took it really slow. You know, allowed him to come over to spend an evening with the entire family occasionally, maybe then we would get to know him, trust him ..."
"There's no trusting a man like that."
Marcy lifted a hand to gently stroke his face. "You know, you were a man like that once, my love. Tonight when Collin walked through the door with steel in his eyes, he reminded me so much of you. My father didn't trust you either, if you recall. But you won him over-and me."
Patrick sighed and tugged her close. He buried his face in her hair, wondering for the thousandth time how he'd been so blessed to find her. Was it the same with Collin? Should he go against his better judgment and allow Collin to see his daughter? "I'm not comfortable with it, Marcy, not at all. But maybe you're right; perhaps we need to know him better. I promise I'll give it much thought."
"And prayer?"
He squeezed his wife. "That, my dear, goes without saying."
Charity was far too excited to sleep. And why should she when she could dream so happily wide awake? Her wish had come true-he loved her! She had seen it in his eyes, and he had professed it openly to her entire family. She heard Faith rustling in the bed across the room and knew her sister's reasons for not sleeping were far different than her own. The glow diminished slightly as she thought how Faith must be feeling tonight, knowing Collin would never belong to her. She would get over it quickly enough, Charity reasoned, and the glow returned once again. She would have to. Collin was going to be part of the family, and there was nothing Faith could do but accept it. Charity stretched beneath the cool sheets. Birthdays just didn't get any better than this. Unless, perhaps, you were celebrating them as Mrs. Collin McGuire! The mere thought silently took her away to sweet sleep with a smile on her lips.
Across the room, Faith lay quietly, listening to the even rhythm of Charity's breathing, which, at last, was regular and calm. She was dreaming, no doubt, about Collin. Faith blinked away the wetness forming in her eyes as she lay there, lifeless. Never had she felt so depressed. A shaft of moonlight split the room in two, flooding it with a soft glow, but to her it seemed darker than any abyss. How could it be all her dreams and hopes had come to this? She had tried to do the right thing, to seek God's way, but it had only inflicted the most excruciating heartbreak she had ever known. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to have peace and joy-Mrs. Gerson had said so. But she didn't. All she had was despair, while her sister, once again, was blessed with the desire of her heart ... and Faith's.
A surge of anger rose within. It could all be different, she thought. Collin could belong to her. The night on the porch, he'd implied that, hadn't he? They had both felt something, hadn't they? If she had relented to his kiss, things might be different tonight. He might belong to her and not Charity. But no, she had chosen to do what was right. But right for whom, she wanted to know. If this was God's best, as Mrs. Gerson was fond of saying, maybe she didn't want God's best!
Her mind began to race. Abruptly she sat up, pushing the hair from her face. She would tell him! She would let him know she wanted him, that it didn't matter if he believed in God or not. She would embrace his affections and allow the wonderful feelings to carry her away. Her heart rocketed at the mere thought of his arms around her, his hungry kisses ...
And then all at once, beneath the warmth that thoughts of him always produced, a cold heaviness settled in. The hopelessness she'd felt only moments before now paled before the overpowering blackness that crept into her soul. It would never work. She would never be happy, and she knew it to the core of her being. She was trapped-cornered by a God who had taken her from the shadows into his glorious light. Yes, she had tasted the sweetness of Collin's kiss, but also the peace and joy of an intimate relationship with God, and it had ruined her for anything else. Faith sobbed into her pillow. She could never go back. Where was the free will in all this? How can I choose to turn from you, God, when I know I will never be happy apart from you? Where is the choice?
Faith wept until limp in her bed, and when her anger subsided, heartbreak returned with a vengeance. Never had she felt so incredibly lost.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted ...
Faith grasped her prayer book from the nightstand and frantically flipped its pages. Suddenly, she stopped and leaned forward to allow the moonlight to shine upon the passage from Psalm 34 that she had jotted down at Mrs. Gerson's.
The eyes of Jehovah are toward the righteous, And his ears are open unto their cry ... The righteous cried, and Jehovah heard, and delivered them out of all their troubles. Jehovah is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart, and saveth such as are of a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous; but Jehovah delivereth him out of them all.
She fell upon the open pages with a broken sob. "Save me, oh Lord, for my spirit is crushed, and I am so brokenhearted." Faith's prayer poured from the depths of her soul, and the peace she'd become so dependent upon did not fail her. He would not fail her, she knew. Just as she knew in her heart she would let Collin go. She fell back on the bed, closing her eyes. With a purpose in her heart and a prayer on her lips, she finally drifted into a weary slumber.
It was Christmas Eve, and the O'Connor household was abuzz with holiday activity bordering on bedlam. In the kitchen, Marcy was dangerously close to the breaking point as she pulled another tray of cookies from the oven just as Katie knocked a bowl of icing onto the floor.
"Ooops!" Katie giggled as Blarney pounced on the gooey mess, tail wagging furiously at his good fortune. Marcy stood in the center
of the kitchen, dumbfounded, a hot tray of cookies still in her hands. She cried out in pain as the heat penetrated the pot holders she held, and slammed the tray onto the counter. Tears stung her eyes when several cookies flipped in the air and crashed to the floor.
"Mama, are you okay? Did you burn yourself?" Katie's concern sounded genuine.
Marcy looked at her tiny daughter, who was covered from head to toe in flour and icing, then stared at her kitchen, which looked even worse, and wanted to cry. Christmas shouldn't be like this, she thought, nursing her burnt fingers.
In the next room, Faith grinned, watching her father point to a tree bough that needed decorating. The tree he'd cut down that morning from Holper's farm stood proud and tall in the far corner of the parlor while the rest of the family arrayed it with ornaments and cranberry garland. Pipe in hand, her father supervised from his favorite chair, and Faith shook her head and smiled, absently turning a page in the book on her lap.
Wonderful smells of Christmas filled the house, cookies and pine needles and orange-spice wassail. Everywhere you looked, homemade decorations hung, lending a festive air to rooms aglow with anticipation. Tonight, as O'Connor tradition would have it, they would concentrate on the birth of the Christ child, leaving the impending threat of war to another day.
"It's going to be another wonderful Christmas," her father announced as he bit into one of her mother's oatmeal cookies.
Faith wasn't so sure. She watched as Charity stood on tiptoe and giggled while reaching to hang a patchwork angel as high as she could. Behind her Collin hoisted Katie-now banished from the kitchen-well above Charity's shoulders to claim the honor of hanging the highest ornament. Elizabeth laughed as Sean offered a challenge, heaving Steven to his shoulders armed with a delicate glass dove, which Steven promptly placed on the highest bough. It was a joyful scene to all but Faith, who worked diligently at smiling along with the rest.
A Passion Most Pure (Daughters of Boston, Book 1) Page 12