Today was no exception, Marcy thought as she prepared breakfast. Except, perhaps, it could be called the second blackest Good Friday of them all. April 6, 1917—the day the United States of America would declare war on Germany. Only three days earlier, President Wilson issued a Declaration of War before the U.S. Congress, calling for a stronger navy and an army of five hundred thousand men. Today, before the whole world, it would be official—America was entering “the Great War.” Marcy shuddered to think what such a turn of events might bring.
She reached for an egg, separated the yolk from the whites, and thought about Collin and Charity. Whatever the rift, it was enough to keep Collin away, and Charity and Faith in a state of chronic dejection.
“How long?” Marcy would ask, and Charity would attempt a smile that did nothing to cloak the sadness in her eyes.
“I don’t know, Mother. All I know is he said he would call when he’s ready, and he will. We just have to be patient.” She would say nothing more.
Between the heaviness of impending war and the absence of someone they hoped would be one of their own, Marcy felt sure the season of Lent had never extracted such sacrifice.
Patrick’s mood was equally somber as he entered the kitchen, the usual smile missing from his face. He kissed Marcy on the cheek, draped his suit coat over the chair, and sat down. Fatigue glazed his eyes, the result of too many sleepless nights of late. He worried incessantly how the war might affect Sean and Collin and knew that Marcy, in turn, worried about him.
“I really wish you weren’t going in today, Patrick. You’re so very tired, and I would feel much better if you stayed home.”
He looked up from his breakfast. “Marcy, there’s no place I’d rather be than by your side, today of all days. But I can’t, darlin’. It’ll be a busy day at the Herald, and I must be there. That’s why I’m going in so early, darlin’, instead of my usual time with Faith.”
She nodded and turned away. His heart ached as he watched her while she worked at the sink. He knew she was crying. There had been more of that in their house over the last three weeks than he cared to admit. Patrick wondered when their lives would return to the joy and peace they’d once taken for granted.
He rose from his chair and crossed the room to where she stood and circled his arms around her waist. He buried his lips in the curve of her neck. At his touch, she sobbed openly and turned, clinging while her body quivered with weeping. Patrick stroked her hair and held her close. His heart felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. What could he say that would stem the tide of her tears? How could he reassure her when he himself was so unsure as to what the future held for them all?
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
The first line of Psalm 46 from his morning devotional came to him in a rush, bringing with it a wave of calm. He tightened his hold on his wife and took a deep breath. “Marcy, everything will be all right. We have the Lord. He promises to be our refuge and our strength. We must put our trust in him—not what’s going on in the world.” He felt her nod against his chest as she gripped him. He led her to the nearest chair, then held her on his lap like a little girl, her head on his shoulder. “Let’s not cry about it, shall we, Marcy? Let’s pray about it instead.”
A shaky sigh quivered from her lips, and she nodded again. Resting his head on hers, he closed his eyes and prayed. Prayed that God would give them peace in the midst of this storm, protect them, and keep them safe. He prayed for Collin and Charity and Faith, that God would give peace in a situation that had clearly shattered their joy. He prayed for God to give wisdom to President Wilson and his advisors, for victory to be swift and sure. When he finished, Marcy sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Patrick smiled, a rush of love welling his heart. “Marcy, what if I took an extended lunch hour today? You know, between noon and three?”
She lunged, almost tipping the chair with her embrace, and kissed him with such passion that a soft moan escaped his lips. “Mmm … maybe I won’t go in at all!” he teased, returning her kiss with equal passion. He paused and drew back, a brow shifting high. “You do realize, of course, I’ll have to work a bit later tonight, don’t you?”
She nodded and kissed him again, and he chuckled at her enthusiasm. Patting her on the leg, he resumed an air of responsibility. “I’d best be going, then; I’ll need every minute I have at work.”
Instead of getting up, Marcy pressed closer, her lips swaying against his.
Patrick groaned and nudged her away. “Marcy, you’re a wicked woman,” he said with a tight grin. “Darlin’, there’s no time—” He stopped, his heart flinching at the desperation on her face as her eyes pooled with dread.
“Patrick,” she pleaded, “please … the world’s being torn apart at the seams. I need to be close to you … to hold you. God help us, we’re at war! And we don’t know what tomorrow might bring …”
The reality of her words stung, and he felt his perspective shift. He picked her up in his arms and kissed her again before letting her go. Pulling his suit coat off the back of the chair, he slung it over his shoulder and took her hand in his, quietly leading the way to their room.
The last three weeks had been the worst of Collin’s life, except for those when he and his mother had buried his father. He was in a fog of confusion, deep in thought and yet thinking nothing at all. It was like one, long drunk he couldn’t shake—a sick feeling in his gut and a dull ache in his head. Only this one hung over his heart and stubbornly refused to succumb to any remedy he might try.
He hadn’t seen any of the O’Connors since that awful night, and today, with the solemnity of Good Friday and the gloom of war, it seemed an appropriate time to return to settle his business. He had done more than his fair share of drinking over the last three weeks, and even ventured a few prayers in the process. But in the end, he received more solace from the pub than the prayer, because at least the pub helped to dull the pain that was so much a part of him these days.
Collin kept his eyes down as he walked toward their house, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he went over in his mind the words he wanted to say. They would be surprised to see him, he knew, for they would hardly expect him during the day when he was supposed to be at work. They would all be home, he hoped, except for Patrick and Faith and possibly Sean, and that suited him just fine. He could talk so easily to Marcy; it was much like talking to Faith, she was so caring and honest. But it would be hard to say good-bye to Sean, and especially difficult to face Patrick. Collin dreaded the look on Patrick’s face when he told him. Patrick had become the father he’d lost, and he cared too deeply what he thought. It would crush Collin to see the pain in his eyes, just as he knew it would crush him to see Faith again. No, it was better this way, he thought—quickly, quietly, while all the world’s eyes were focused on the reality of war.
Turning onto their street, Collin took a deep breath and braced himself to confront Charity again. His thoughts traveled to the night she offered herself to him. She had never done anything like that before. But she knew his weakness and felt no compunction in exploiting it. He had admired that once. She was more than well aware of the attraction she held for him. Like a skilled gambler in a game where the stakes were all or nothing, she played it for all it was worth. He couldn’t seem to resist her, and Collin wondered if Faith had been right. Perhaps he was a sinner. But then surely a sinner who could never change. He recalled how, at the last moment, he finally denied her, a first in his young life. A faint smile flickered on his lips. Maybe he was changing after all. Certainly the old Collin McGuire would have never said no to a woman who was his for the taking.
Collin stood at the base of their front steps, wondering how Charity would handle it. The thought of her brought a sad smile to his lips. He did care for her. And the attraction was certainly there. But when he was with Faith, his attraction to Charity paled in comparison, and he knew it would be an emotional triangle Charity could never tolerate. She wante
d to get married right away, but he’d told her he needed time to think. And so they agreed to separate for a time. The weeks had convinced him that, in the end, time would be his best friend, and he was quite sure he’d need a great deal more of it.
He ascended the steps with trepidation, as if scaling an impossible summit. He knocked on the door and waited, queasiness in the pit of his stomach. Somewhere within he heard Katie shriek. The door swung wide, and Collin froze.
Patrick greeted him, grinning ear-to-ear. “Collin! What a sight for sore eyes you are. We’ve missed you, my boy. Please, come in.”
Patrick gave him a bear hug, and Collin tried to smile but was embarrassed at the wetness springing to his eyes. He returned the hug, clutching Patrick tightly, hoping the awkwardness he felt wasn’t obvious. Turning toward the kitchen, Patrick called for Charity. The kitchen door flew open, making way for a parade of O’Connors bounding toward him. Marcy’s eyes were sparkling as she pulled Katie off his leg, and Patrick demanded to know if his absence meant he was scared to lose at chess.
Collin smiled for the first time in weeks. “I think it’s more of a case of my extending mercy to Sean, Mr. O’Connor.”
Patrick laughed and slapped him on the back.
“It’s good to see you, Collin,” Charity whispered. He turned to look at her. She was a bit thinner, but it was nice, he decided. Her pale gold hair seemed even longer as it fell in loose curls over her shoulders and arms. He smiled, and her face glowed.
“It’s good to see you too, Charity. I’ve missed you.” He’d had no intention of saying that, but the words parted from his lips so easily. “I’ve missed you all.”
“So, Collin, can you stay for lunch? Sean and Faith are at work, of course, but the rest of us are about to sit down for a light meal. It’s not much, since we’re fasting our full meal until this evening, but you’re welcome to join us.” Patrick looked tired, but his eyes were eager.
“I’d love to, Mr. O’Connor.”
Nothing was said of anything that might have transpired three weeks earlier. The conversation was simply the usual banter he had grown to love in his brief time with this family. Patrick seemed careful to avoid talk of war while Katie babbled on about Easter and the candy she hoped to receive. Charity never took her eyes from his face while Marcy finished up the preparations for lunch. When it was ready, they all sat in the warmth of the kitchen to pray and eat, and in the midst of their warmth and love, Collin felt revived from weeks of death.
He had come here to end it, to say good-bye to the only real family he had ever known. Endless hours of whiskey and wondering convinced him there was no other way. How could he marry one sister when he was in love with the other? And how could he love the other at the expense of the betrothed, especially when he had no certainty the other would even have him? It was all too complicated, too painful to ponder, and it would be best, he decided, to simply do away with it all. But as he sat basking in the glow of this family he loved, he found he was reluctant to let them go. It suddenly occurred to him that, perhaps, time should make the decision for him, and Collin found his heart much lighter at the thought.
When the meal was finished, Marcy offered stout cups of coffee. Collin gratefully accepted, and he sipped it as they chatted on about Easter, school, and work at the Herald.
Collin put his cup down and took a deep breath. He pushed his chair back to give himself room to breathe. “Speaking of the Herald, Mr. O’Connor, I suppose it’s abuzz these days with talk of the war?”
Patrick nodded. A slight pall seemed to settle on the room.
Collin pressed on with his point. “I wanted to come here today to tell Charity something …” He looked around the table. “To tell you all something. I’ve decided to enlist.”
Collin felt as if he had just released the first of the wartime bombs that would shatter their lives. The deathly quiet of the room clotted the air in his throat.
“Collin … what are you saying?” Charity’s color blanched to chalk.
Collin looked at her, his eyes tender as he put his hand over hers. “Charity, I’ve decided to join the AEF.”
“What’s the AEF?” Elizabeth wanted to know.
“It stands for American Expeditionary Force. It’s our military force that will be fighting overseas.”
“You’re going to war?” Steven asked, his freckled face bunched in a frown.
Collin nodded, and Charity let out a faint cry.
“Collin, why enlist now, why not wait until you’re called?” Marcy’s voice wavered.
Patrick gave her a strong look. “Marcy, Collin has to do what he thinks is best. How we feel cannot factor in.”
Collin glanced up at Patrick, his eyes stinging. “Oh, but it does, Mr. O’Connor. How your family feels affects me a great deal. I wouldn’t be here today if it didn’t. You’re the family I never had …” He fought a tremor in his voice.
“Then why?” Charity cried.
“Because my country needs me, and because you and I need time to sort a few things out. My duty overseas will give us that time. And when it’s over, God willing … I’ll return, and we can see where things stand.”
“Are you going to marry my sister?” Katie asked.
“I don’t know, Katie,” he whispered.
Charity began to cry.
“Collin, the problem between you and Charity—is there anything we can do …” Patrick seemed at a loss for words.
Collin shook his head. “No, sir. I just think it needs the test of time to make sure it’s what we both want to do.”
Collin turned to Charity. “Let’s wait until after the war and see how we both feel.” He stroked her wet cheek with his fingers. “If you don’t want to wait, Charity, I’ll understand.”
She swiped tears from her eyes. “I’ll wait, Collin,” she whispered, “as long as it takes.”
He wound his arms around her, cheek pressed hard against her hair, and all at once he felt as if a great burden had lifted.
“When do you think you’ll leave?” Patrick’s tone was sober.
Collin looked up. “The first troops will be in France by June for training. I hope to be among them, but I’ll know for sure today or tomorrow as to exactly when.”
“June! Will we see you until then?” Charity asked.
“Try and stop me,” he whispered. She laid her head on his shoulder. Sitting there, holding her in his arms, Collin felt strangely at peace. He had come to end his relationship with this woman. How could it be that it felt so natural to be holding her again? He stroked her hair as she leaned against him.
His mind suddenly wandered to thoughts of Faith. Some of the peaceful feeling faded as he remembered that it always felt more natural with Charity when Faith was out of sight. Would there ever come a time when he’d be free enough to marry Charity? A part of him hoped so. But then, it was at war with a part of him that didn’t.
“Collin, will you be joining us for Easter?”
The sound of Marcy’s voice lulled him back to the present. He smiled. “I would like that, Mrs. O’Connor.”
“Do you think your mother would be up to coming? We’ll be going to mass at noon, then dinner is at four.”
“She hasn’t been feeling well, but I’ll certainly extend the invitation.”
“Good. I met her years ago, but it would be lovely to see her again. We’ll have a full house, I can tell you that. Mrs. Gerson will be here, of course, and Faith has invited Danny and Maisie and … Briana, I think it is, to join us. Have you met any of them, Collin?”
He stiffened at the mention of Danny and Briana, as did Charity. “Yes, ma’am, all three.”
“Good. It’ll be fun, I think. And I suppose we could do with more of that lately.”
“Yes, Lord, and amen to that, eh, Collin?” Patrick laughed, pushing his plate away.
“Yes, sir,” Collin agreed, not sure how much “fun” would be derived from an encounter with either Danny or Briana again. But he smiled, nonethel
ess, at Patrick’s words. In all his years he’d never seen such a family as this, and he doubted he ever would again. Where all things—whether run-of-the-mill conversations or matters of great import—were laid at the foot of the Almighty.
Faith opened her eyes to a room where the last remnants of moonlight were fading into the dusky light of dawn. Rising early on Easter had become a habit, she supposed, from years of sneaking out of bed at the first crack of light to see what the Easter Bunny had brought. A habit that lingered on, she found, long after the magic of the Easter Bunny faded.
The rhythm of Charity’s shallow breathing harmonized with the soft ticking of the clock as she slept in her bed across the room. Charity had taken the news of Collin’s enlistment hard, as they all had at the thought of someone they loved in harm’s way. But for the moment, he was back. And the effect of that short reprieve could be seen in the soundness of her sleep.
Faith pulled the covers more tightly about her, curling up in bed and allowing her thoughts to drift. The timing for Easter couldn’t be better, she decided with a bit of melancholy. Over the last few years, Easter had become a time of rebirth for her, much like the beginning of her new relationship with God. Her parents had raised her to know God and know about him, but it had been such a long-distance thing, too far away for her to touch or feel. And then she met Mrs. Gerson, and her eyes suddenly opened to the depth of God’s love for her, personally. Faith had always known about Jesus, but for the first time he became her best friend as well as her Savior. Suddenly she understood his words to Nicodemus: “Except one be born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” For Faith, the change had been earth-shattering, taking her from the shallowness of the world to the depth of the spirit. She would never be the same again.
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