The folds on Patrick's brow deepened as he dropped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling as if it held the answers they so desperately needed. "It's a mystery, for sure. He's been after Charity so long, it seems certain she's the one he wants. If I didn't like that boy so much, I'd throttle him for toying with Faith's affections as he has. But it's been his nature up to now, I'm afraid, and I suspect that's exactly what he was doing-toying with her. I've got to believe it was before he made his commitment to Charity, before he asked her to be his wife. Surely that states his intentions clearly enough."
Patrick sat up. "Well, I will speak to him nonetheless, privately, of course. I will make certain he understands he's to stay as far away from Faith as possible. Not so much as an uttered word or casual glance, nothing that will make it any more difficult for her to get over her feelings for him. And she will-we'll see to that."
"How?"
Patrick's sigh was heavy. "I've been wanting to break Faith into copywriting at the Herald, but I must admit, I hadn't planned on doing it quite this soon. But now, I think I need to. It's important she occupies her mind with other things, and she's always loved writing. I'll talk to Ben about giving her some harmless stories to get her started."
"What about here at home, when Collin's over? He'll be around more than ever."
"We'll just have to limit him to Saturday evenings and Sundays. I don't think our trust factor should allow any more time with Charity than that. And as much as possible, for the time being, we'll make sure Faith has other places to be. Perhaps she can spend a few Saturday nights at Maisie's, and then switch her Bible-reading sessions with Mrs. Gerson to Sunday afternoons. We'll manage somehow."
"Patrick, do you think we need to talk to Maisie?"
Patrick's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Whatever for?"
"Oh, something Maisie mentioned awhile back about a young man at the Herald interested in Faith. Perhaps ... well, perhaps she needs a little push in that direction. It certainly couldn't hurt, could it? She is nineteen, after all."
Patrick blinked, his stare going blank at the mention of Faith growing up, growing away. With Charity, he'd always expected it. But with Faith, well, she'd always been his little girl. Any thought to the contrary never even crossed his mind. Patrick shook himself out of his reverie and patted Marcy's hand.
"You're right, darlin'. I'll talk to Maisie as well. We'll get through this, I promise. And we'll get Faith through it too." He sighed again. "Now, dear Lord above, if you would be kind enough-please show us how."
For Faith, New Year's Eve came and went with minimal fanfare; she spent the evening with Maisie and her parents and Aunt Edna, sipping cider and playing pinochle until the stroke of midnight sent them to their beds.
Faith missed being with her family. In addition to a feast of wonderful dishes Mother always prepared, there would be traditional servings of red cabbage for good luck, pickled herring, and ham, of course, because her mother always said "the pig roots out the money." They would have greeted the New Year with a toast of hot cocoa for the children and spiced cider for her parents. It would have been an evening filled with games and music and memories of New Years past, and Faith ached at the thought of it. But her father had been right. She needed time to heal. Time away from Collin and Charity.
It had only been a week since she'd seen him on bended knee, offering her sister the life she had always dreamed of for herself. Now she berated herself for the child she'd been, wasting years on dreams devoid of anything but delusion. She vowed to put her schoolgirl fantasy behind and start anew. True, she couldn't avoid Collin forever. Within the year he would be married to her sister. But she could avoid him until then. Her faith was strong. She hoped that with the help of God and family, his hold over her would eventually be broken.
The days of January flew swiftly. More than ever, Faith struggled to immerse herself in her work at the Herald. The day the editor called her to his office had been a turning point. "Your father tells me you love to write," he began in a gruff tone. "Says you did quite a bit for the St. Mary's Gazette. Is it true you were editor your senior year?"
"Yes, sir," she whispered, her stomach aflutter.
"Well, then, I'd like to see what you can do in the way of feature writing, young lady." He tossed her a piece of paper. "Here's the name and address of a church parishioner experiencing miraculous luck at the weekly bingo meetings. Let's see how you handle this as a special-interest story. On your own time, of course."
Her hand had shaken as she'd taken the piece of paper. Her very own story! She could hardly believe it. Few women penetrated the ranks of copywriter at the Herald. She would, of course, he had emphasized, remain in the typing pool for the foreseeable future. And he could make no guarantees her story would even be published. But Faith had been elated, nonetheless. True, it was no more than a filler piece, an innocuous little story that would be lost, no doubt, somewhere between the store ads and the obituaries. But it was hers-all hers-and the realization certainly helped to put a new spring in her step.
Maisie had been elated. "I knew it wouldn't take long!" she said, beaming. "It's perfect timing. What better way to . . ." She hesitated as Faith threatened her with a look. "Get over things," she finished sweetly. "Of course, there are other ways."
Faith shot a look more menacing than the last. "Don't start with me, Maisie. Men don't hold any appeal for me right now."
"Only because you won't let them. I'll bet Danny O'Leary has asked me at least three times if I thought you would allow him to call on you. He's a great catch. Why don't you give him a chance?"
"If he's such a great catch, why don't you go out with him?"
"Believe me, I would if I could, but he doesn't want to go out with me. He wants to go out with you! He's from a very devout family-your parents would love him. Come on, he's lots of fun."
"And how would you know that?"
Maisie's eyes twinkled. "I've tangled with him once or twice, and trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn't be setting him up with you. But alas, he wants a good Catholic girl, not a Protestant, and let me tell you, I considered converting!"
Faith had to laugh. Maisie had a way of disarming her from the foulest mood and the most determined intentions. "Okay, you win. I'll go out with Danny O'Leary. Are you happy?"
Maisie frowned. "Not particularly. I really want him for myself."
"You are so crazy. So what are you going to tell him?"
"That you've been dying for him to ask-"
"I'll wring your neck if you do."
"Don't get your knickers in a knot. I'll tell him the truth. You're trying to get over someone, so you're not really interested in anything serious, but doing a few things together might be fun. How's that?"
"As good as it gets, I guess. Hey, Maisie, you'll come along, won't you? I mean, we'll do things in a group, won't we? I ... I really don't want to be alone with him."
"You are such a chicken. You have to grow up sometime, Faith, and I'm afraid men are part of that process. I suspect they've always been interested in you, but you've had your nose buried so deep in a book or your journal, you haven't noticed."
The strain on Faith's face caused Maisie to roll her eyes. "Yes, Faith, I will tell him only group outings, all right?"
Faith nodded, her face relaxing into relief.
"When?" Maisie demanded.
Faith chewed her lip. "Give me a little time, will you?"
Maisie cocked a brow. "He won't wait a year, you know."
Faith gave her a playful swat and made a beeline for the door, hoping to buy time. It didn't work. Within the week, Maisie had arranged an outing.
Amazingly enough, Danny O'Leary turned out to be much better than Faith believed he would be. She had noticed his stares from time to time when she walked through the newsroom, but thought little of it. She wasn't used to the attention of men, and it hadn't occurred to her he might be interested.
Their first group activity had been skating in the park in l
ate January. Faith was surprised at how much she enjoyed it. Danny wasted no time whisking her onto the pond, hand firmly in hers, his easy chatter dispelling any shyness she felt. Maisie was right-Danny was fun to be with, and it felt good reveling in the attention he lavished on her.
At twenty-three, he was the youngest copywriter at the Herald, a fact he mentioned no less than three times as they spun on the ice. He was tall and thin in a somewhat bookish way, with a shock of brown hair that fell across his forehead in disarray. He could have easily been mistaken for a poet or an intellectual, so studious was his manner-until he smiled. Never had Faith seen a smile transform anyone quite so much. It was a bit of a crooked grin that lit his face with a mischievous light, like a little boy about to misbehave. It was his smile Faith loved best, and it was his smile that eventually charmed her into seeing him again.
Each time they'd meet, they'd lose themselves in lengthy conversations about everything from Keats and Milton to what the Germans would do next. Before long, Faith found herself completely at ease in his presence. They laughed a lot, often at Maisie's antics or the droll looks she'd give them. In a matter of weeks, Danny had become as much a part of Faith's life as Maisie and Briana, and the four often ate lunch together and chatted away like lifelong friends. Friends who would prove to be a godsend, she prayed. And friends who would usher her into a new season of her life, hopefully keeping her mind from straying too far in the direction of her heart ...
January gave way to February, and Patrick could tell Faith was happier. Her first piece on the bingo-playing parishioner had been well received by the editor, who was slowly assigning her additional filler pieces here and there. Her color was better; she had more of the usual glow back in her cheeks of late, and for that, Patrick was grateful to Maisie and Danny O'Leary. He liked this young man who suddenly hovered over his daughter at every turn. He had a lot on the ball, Patrick thought, and most importantly, he made his daughter laugh again.
Their plan had worked. Faith seldom saw Collin anymore, except on Sunday mornings at mass when Patrick and Marcy took great pains to position her as far from him as they could. Collin and Charity seemed to be growing closer all the time, exchanging knowing looks and holding hands. Patrick was grateful Faith was spared the closeness that was developing between the two. There would be time enough to face it down the road, when she was better able to do so.
Patrick sighed. He was certainly relieved things were working well for his daughters; he only wished he could say the same for the state of affairs in the world. He didn't discuss much with Marcy as he didn't wish to alarm her, but he had an uneasy feeling about President Wilson's commitment to stay out of the war. At the beginning of February, Germany had declared submarine warfare against all shipping to and from Great Britain, a policy that quickly altered Wilson's pacifist point of view. Wilson broke diplomatic relations with Germany, and Patrick feared it did not bode well for U.S. peacemaking efforts. He was convinced they were straddled on a time bomb, one whose ticking had become dangerously difficult to ignore.
What would happen if the U.S. entered the war? The army was minimal at best, its population no larger than it had been in the year 1800. Without question, they would need an influx of men willing to fight. The mere thought caused his blood to run cold. No, he would not talk of his fears to Marcy, not yet. The time was all too quickly coming when she would learn of them soon enough.
"I don't know why I let you talk me into this." Faith was tense as she studied herself in the mirror. "We're just friends. We have no business going out alone together on Valentine's Day." She spun around to face Maisie, who sat cross-legged on her bed. "Hey, why don't you come along? Please, Maisie, it'll be fun!"
Maisie doled out one of her infamous looks of sarcasm. "By whose definition? Fun for you, maybe. Fun for Danny and me? Nope, don't think so. Come on, Faith, he's crazy about you. You do like him, don't you?"
Faith turned back to the mirror, fussing with her hair. "Of course I like him-as a friend. He's funny, charming-"
"Handsome."
"Mmm, that too. I'm just not sure ...
"Not sure? What's there to be sure about? You go out, eat some dinner, laugh a little, and come home. Why is this so hard for you?"
"What if he kisses me?"
Maisie's jaw gaped. "So what! Enjoy it. Besides, you may find you like it. Won't know till you try. Faith O'Connor, you are such a chicken."
Faith took a deep breath and flopped on the bed. "Okay, okay." Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "Hey, wait a minute. Why don't I see what Sean is doing, and the two of you can-"
"Oh no, you don't!"
"Now who's chicken? Come on, I know you like him. And he thinks you're pretty cute."
"He does? Mmm, well, I guess I won't argue if you start inviting me for dinner on a more regular basis. That seems to be the only time that brother of yours is home."
"Oh, you've noticed?"
"Maybe."
Faith laughed. "Okay, he's home on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays-take your pick."
"How 'bout all three? He's real cute, you know."
"Yes, you're right. You'll need all three," Faith teased.
Maisie lunged at her just as Charity wandered into the room. "Honestly, whenever you two get together, you act like overgrown puppies," she muttered, interrupting their horseplay with a look of disdain. Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "What are you all dressed up for? You don't actually have a date, do you?"
Maisie settled back on Faith's bed, her jaw clamping tight.
Faith stood to smooth her dress. "As a matter of fact, I do."
"Well, fancy that-big sister is finally dating. I thought it was another 'group event.' Wonders never cease. Who is it, the copywriter?"
"If you ever paid attention to anything I said at dinner, you'd know his name is Danny O'Leary."
"Mmm, very nice." Charity's tone was borderline civil. "So, is this your 'official' first date, not in a group?"
"Yes, our first time out ... alone."
Charity honed in on the tremor in Faith's voice. "Worried?"
"No, why should I be?"
"No reason. It's just I know you're very anxious to please God, so if he tries to kiss you, you'll want to make sure it's on the forehead like a good girl."
Faith took a step forward, her fingers curled in a fist. "Why do you do this? Why do you pick at me like you do? You have everything you want. Why attack me?"
Charity smiled easily as she selected her clothes for her date with Collin.
"I don't know, for sport, maybe? You're just so easy to pick on, I guess."
"Can't you be happy for me, just once? I'm happy for you."
Charity pivoted slowly, ice crystals in her eyes. "Are you, Faith? Are you happy I'm marrying Collin? Truly?"
"I am ... for you." Faith swallowed hard.
"And for you?"
"Leave her alone, Charity. Danny O'Leary's done wonders to get Faith's mind off of Collin. He's crazy about her, and she's crazy about him."
Charity turned to Faith with grudging admiration in her eyes. "Well, big sister, I have to hand it to you-you certainly work fast. I'm anxious to meet him. Maybe we can double sometime." She grabbed her robe and sauntered to the bathroom while Faith glowered at Maisie.
"Crazy about him?"
Maisie giggled and stretched out on the bed. "Trust me, you will be. Once he kisses you!"
It was one of the best dates she'd ever had. Of course, it was the only date she'd ever had, but that didn't matter-it was the best. Danny arrived promptly at 7:00 p.m., quite handsome in a charcoal-gray suit. He shook hands with Patrick, charmed Marcy with his boyish smile, then led Faith out the door to his father's automobile, on loan for the night. The Italian restaurant he'd chosen was enchanting, like him, and Faith listened with delight to his endless repertoire of stories, laughing until her sides ached.
In the car, he suddenly became very quiet, and Faith smiled shyly. "Not all out of stories, I hope?"
He flashe
d her a grin, but his tone was serious. "No, I just think it's time I do some listening. Tell me about you."
"Well, you've already heard all about my family, and you know my father ..."
"No, I mean tell me about you, you and this guy you're trying so hard to forget."
Her stomach tightened. She had the sudden urge to throttle Maisie. "So, she told you."
"Afraid so. Said you were head over heels, but it didn't work out. Is that true?"
Faith shifted in the seat. "Something like that."
"Do you still care for him?" Danny's voice was quiet.
"I don't know. I'm desperately trying not to, but I honestly don't know. I don't allow myself to think about it. There are times when I think I'm over it, and then something happens and, well, then I'm not so sure."
Danny parked in front of the house, switched off the ignition, and turned to study her. "You still see him?"
She nodded.
"Why don't you just tell him to get out of your life? Why even let him come around?"
Even in the dark, she could see the pucker of his brow. Faith held her breath and then exhaled slowly. "Because he's engaged to my sister."
"What?"
Faith bit her lower lip and turned to face him. "He's engaged to my sister. Like it or not, he's going to be around for a long time."
The look on Danny's face was priceless. "Tell me you're joking."
"I wish I were, but I'm not. I had a crush on him long before he began seeing my sister, and when he did, my feelings started to grow. They escalated, I'm afraid, when he ... well, we had several encounters when he ..."
A Passion Most Pure (Daughters of Boston, Book 1) Page 16