“Sounds sure enough to me. What do you think, sis?” Charity grinned at Faith.
Faith smiled and leaned back in her chair. “I’d say Brady’s in a heap of trouble.”
“So, what do I do?” Lizzie giggled nervously and propped her chin in her hands.
Charity took a deep breath. “Well, first we get him to come to dinner Saturday night. Faith will take care of that with Collin. Then, we’ll scour your closet for your prettiest dress, and I’ll help you get ready. The works—makeup, perfume, attitude. After dinner, you’ll tell Brady that you have a problem you need to discuss, something that’s got you really upset.”
“You mean, like him?” Lizzie asked with a wry smile.
“No, not him. But close. A problem with another man. Maybe that Weston boy who’s always calling.”
“Tom? But, what kind of problem?” Lizzie was losing her nerve.
Charity’s lips skewed in thought. “Didn’t you say Tom tried to kiss you at Millie’s party?”
“Well, yes, but that was last year.”
Charity arched a brow. “Brady doesn’t have to know that. As long as it’s true, you can tell Brady that you’re thinking of going out with Tom, but you’re not sure how to handle him if he gets fresh.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. “But I’m not thinking of dating Tom. I don’t want to be with anyone but Brady.”
Charity huffed an impatient sigh. “We know that and you know that, but Brady doesn’t know that, or at least he won’t if you play your cards right. Do you like Tom at all?”
Lizzie thought about the boy who had hounded her since freshman year. Tom Weston—smart, ambitious, good-looking, yes, but far from perfect. She sighed. Or at least far from Brady. “He’d be okay, I guess, if I wasn’t in love with you know who.”
“Good! Then that’s the card we’ll play. I’m not proud of some of the shenanigans I pulled with Mitch, but a little healthy competition never hurt any man.”
“So you want me to date Tom Weston?” Lizzie’s voice cracked.
Charity tilted her head. “Maybe. That can be a backup plan if Plan A doesn’t work.”
“And what exactly is Plan A again?” Lizzie chewed on her thumbnail.
“After dinner, tell him you need to talk about a problem and get him outside on the swing. Make sure you snuggle close so he can smell your perfume. And for goodness’ sake, lean your head against his chest. That should fan any embers if they’re there.”
Lizzie gulped and put a hand to her cheek to cool the heat that surged. “What about my embers? The man turns me to putty.”
“Forget your embers, Lizzie, this is war! The battle of the sexes, as age-old as the Garden of Eden. Do you want Brady or not?” Charity stared her down.
Lizzie nodded and bit her lip.
“Then you have to be tough and focus on the end result— getting Brady to admit he’s in love with you.”
“But how do I do that?”
Charity pursed her lips in a satisfied smile. “With the most deadly weapon in a woman’s arsenal.”
Both Faith and Lizzie stopped breathing. They leaned forward. “And what’s that?” Lizzie whispered.
Charity paused, her tone hushed with reverence. “The kiss.”
Lizzie’s mouth dropped open, and Faith chuckled. “Almost four months pregnant, and she doesn’t miss a beat. I’m glad I had God in my life when you and I were butting heads over men.”
Charity pretended to scowl. “Yes, I remember, but now he’s in my life too, so we’re even.”
“You want me to kiss Brady?” Lizzie’s voice was little more than a squeak.
“Only as a last resort if he doesn’t kiss you. Call it Plan B.”
“But, how . . . ?”
Charity studied her sister, her lips skewed in thought. “Well, it would certainly help if you could cry. Can you cry on demand?” Lizzie blinked. “I’ve never tried. But why do I have to cry?”
“Because it weakens their defenses. I suggest you practice in your room. If you have trouble, try putting something irritating in your eyes like a cracker crumb or anything like that. Once your eyes begin to water, just think about how much you love Brady and how awful it would be if he didn’t love you back. Then, voilà! Cry yourself a river.”
“God help us.” Faith shook her head and settled back in the chair. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing.”
Charity grinned. “Thank you.” She turned back to Lizzie. “So, with cracker crumbs handy in your pocket, you sit on the swing with Brady in the moonlight. Tell him since you know there is no hope for a relationship with him, you feel you need to focus on other men. Tell him the truth—that Tom Weston has repeatedly asked you out for two years and you’re considering dating him, but that you’re afraid. Get weepy on him. Explain that Tom cornered you and kissed you at a party and that he has a bit of a reputation.”
Lizzie blushed. “How do you know Tom has a reputation?”
“He was one of the most popular boys in your high school, was he not?”
Lizzie nodded.
Charity hefted her chin. “He’s got a reputation, trust me. Besides, I’ve seen him once or twice. The way Tom Weston looks, I suspect women make it very easy for him.”
“Charity!” It was Faith’s turn to blush.
“Well, it’s true, Faith, and you know it. Collin was the same way, and so was Mitch for that matter. Too good-looking for their own good.” She grinned. “And ours.”
Faith sighed. “I suppose so. It’s the grace of God that he got ahold of both of them.”
“Thanks to you. In case I never told you before, I’m forever indebted.”
Faith smiled.
Charity turned her attention back to Lizzie. “So, after you start crying and he starts comforting you, press in close and start to sob against his chest, keeping in mind that your future with this man depends on this. And then slowly—very slowly—lift your face to his and ask him what you should do. Make sure you keep your lips parted ever so slightly, maybe even biting on the edge of your lip. Like this . . .” Charity demonstrated with face lifted. “Then start praying your heart out that he kisses you.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” Lizzie’s voice edged toward alarm.
“Then you simply switch to Plan B. You kiss him.”
“Oh no, I don’t think I can do that—”
“Oh yes, you can. You’re my sister, aren’t you? There must be at least a trace of the vamp in you. I couldn’t possibly have gotten it all.”
Faith’s lips squirmed. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“Well, even so, you’re a woman. And a beautiful one at that. It’s about time you acquire these skills. You’ll need them even more after you’re married.”
“I take exception to that. I don’t need them,” Faith said.
Charity gave her a telling look. “And I suppose you don’t use your flashing green eyes and feisty temper to bully Collin into your way of thinking whenever he plays the mule?”
Faith blushed. “At least it’s not fake tears brought about by cracker crumbs.”
“Tears or temper, every woman has her means of turning her husband’s head. It’s the ebb and flow of romantic relationship, ladies. Besides, it keeps the men we love on their toes and the relationship a thrill a minute.”
Faith shook her head and laughed. “I suppose.”
“But I still don’t know if I can do it,” Lizzie whispered.
Charity pointed a threatening finger into Lizzie’s face. “You have to. You don’t have a choice. A kiss is the only thing that will haunt him until he admits he’s in love.”
“But what if he pushes me away?”
“He won’t.”
“But how do you know?”
“Because one kiss told me that when it comes to women, that man is a powder keg waiting to blow. Everyone sees Brady as this wall of iron, and so did I. I don’t know how to explain it, but that one kiss convinced me otherwise. If you ask me, I think that’s the reason he feels s
o safe with you as a little girl, a little sister. I have a suspicion he can’t handle anything more than that. Something tells me his desire is so strong, it scares him. Wouldn’t surprise me if that’s the reason he’s steered clear of women altogether. I don’t think the man trusts himself.”
Lizzie’s pulse pounded in her brain. “That’s it, Charity, I just know it! I always thought that Brady’s intensity, his passion, came from this bottomless wellspring of love for God, and it does, I know. But lately, well lately, I’ve been feeling something else. Like a slow-burning fire underneath it all, something white-hot way down deep that’s been drawing me. Brady says I’ve been reading too many romance novels, but I tell you, I feel like I can sense it . . . I can sense his . . .” She blushed to the roots of her hair, then lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “His passion for me.”
Charity began fanning herself. “Whew, Lizzie, I don’t think that’s your imagination. Brady does have a fire inside, and I believe you’re the one who’s going to tap it. Goodness, this conversation makes me want to spend some quality time with my husband.”
Faith chuckled. “Can’t wait to go home, eh? I would think that would be the last thing on the mind of a woman in your condition.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Charity groaned, “but it’s just the opposite. The bigger my stomach, the more I seem to need Mitch’s love.”
Lizzie clasped her hands together. “Really, Charity? That’s so romantic!”
Charity’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “You think everything is romantic, Lizzie. I might agree with Brady on that one. Even so, I just wish Mitch felt the way you do.”
“You mean he doesn’t?” Faith rose to dump the peeled potatoes into a pot of water on the stove. She lit the fire beneath it, then glanced over her shoulder.
“Nope. Oh, I know the man is crazy in love with me all right, but I don’t think he’s attracted to me anymore.” Charity lumbered to her feet and pressed her hands to the small of her back, issuing a low moan. “Not that I blame him. Kinda hard to make love to a baby whale.”
“Charity, stop that!” Faith scolded, her cheeks burnished with apparent discomfort at the topic. “First of all, you’re more beautiful now than you’ve ever been, and that’s saying something. But . . . well, I’m not sure Mitch would like it if he knew you were discussing your love life with us.”
Charity lifted her chin, and wetness sparked in her eyes. “I have to, Faith. You and Lizzie are my sisters, and I have to tell somebody. I’m too embarrassed to talk to Mother, and Emma’s my friend, but she’s so busy running our store since Mitch doesn’t want me working, that I don’t want to bother her. But it’s killing me inside. All of my confidence, my womanhood, has always been based on men’s reactions to my looks. Now when I seem to need affirmation most, my own husband has no interest . . .”
The whites of Faith’s eyes expanded in shock. “None?”
Charity sniffed and plopped back into the chair. “Well, almost none. He’s always too tired or doesn’t come to bed till after I’m asleep. And even when I do wait up, he kisses me on the forehead, snuggles, and mutters how exhausted he is.” Charity swiped at a renegade potato peel and popped it in her mouth. “I just wish he knew that I need his love now more than ever.”
“So tell him. It’s not like you to hold things back,” Faith said.
Lizzie reached across to touch Charity’s arm. “Mitch would want to know how you feel. The man’s crazy about you. Anybody can see it.”
Charity shook her head. “No, I don’t want his love out of pity. I want him to want me. Like before.”
Lizzie smiled and folded her hands neatly on the table. “Well, why don’t you take some of your own advice? And then we can work on our ‘projects’ together?”
Charity blinked. The light went on in her eyes and she sat straight up, causing her tummy to jut in defiance. She released a little-girl giggle that brought a pretty blush to her cheeks. “Oh my goodness! See, I told you this pregnancy was dulling my brain. Seduction! Saints preserve us, why didn’t I think of it first?”
Lizzie laughed and grabbed both of her sisters’ hands, so grateful for them in her life. “So what do you say we pray about it, then go to work?” She grinned at Faith. “Anything you need to pray about in the romance department?”
Faith chuckled and snatched Charity’s magazine off the table. She began fanning her cheeks, which were bright pink. “Yes, but on the opposite side of the bed, I’m afraid. I need Collin to let me get some decent sleep. I have a feeling he’s trying to go head-to-head with Mitch in the baby department.”
Charity swooned. “Oh, that I could be plagued with such a problem!”
“Okay, ladies, then let’s put our prayers to the task at hand.” Lizzie grinned, feeling better than she had in weeks. “Faith, you’re on.” She squeezed her sisters’ hands and closed her eyes.
Charity tugged on her arm. “Wait a minute. Before we pray, I want to make sure you’re clear on one thing. The most important thing is that you get that kiss—one way or the other. Understand?”
Lizzie nodded, her heart thumping in her chest.
“Good. So I’ve given my expertise, now Faith can give you hers. Ready?”
Faith grinned. “Finally—a battleground I feel comfortable with!” She closed her eyes. “Lord God, we thank you for our husbands . . . and potential husband in Brady. Help us to be the wives you want us to be. Give Mitch an overwhelming attraction for Charity, especially now when she needs it most. Give Charity wisdom in this situation, and please turn it around. And as far as Collin goes, Lord, I think he wants a baby really badly. We both do. So I’m putting that in your hands too. Psalm 113:9 says that you ‘make the barren woman abide in the house as a joyful mother of children.’ That’s what I’m asking, Lord. For me, Charity, and Lizzie. And speaking of Lizzie, we only want what you want. So if Brady’s not right for her, please heal her heart and bring the right man into her life. But if Brady is being stiff-necked and blind to the woman you have for him in Lizzie, we’re asking that you open his eyes. And if there are other barriers in the way, knock ’em down, Lord, like a tunnel of dominoes. Give Lizzie wisdom and patience in the process . . . and Brady a swift kick in the behind. Amen.”
Faith opened her eyes and grinned. “Get ready to say goodbye to Big Brother Brady, Lizzie. Something deep down inside tells me that man is history.”
“Lizzie O’Connor, it’s about time! God knows I’ve done everything I can to drag you into the modern era.” Millie sighed. “Including changing that goody-goody name of yours into something more hotsy-totsy. You’re lucky to have sisters like Faith and Charity. Meg wouldn’t do that for me.”
Lizzie grinned at her best friend, then turned to fiddle with the display of bestsellers in the window of the Bookends bookstore. She stood back to assess with a critical eye. “That’s because you don’t need any help, Millie. Frank already thinks of you as a woman.”
Millie’s throaty giggle brought a hint of warmth to Lizzie’s cheeks, confirming Lizzie’s statement, and then some. Millie tossed her head back in a saucy display of modern womanism and patted her boyish bob. Her square cut and short bangs were as scandalous as her scarlet lips and pencil-thin brows. She fluttered mascara-smudged lashes in a provocative way. “I’ll say he does, Lizzie, and if you’d just follow my advice, Brady would think the same of you.”
Lizzie gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m afraid Brady would think I’d lost my mind. He’s more of an old-fashioned type of man, Millie, and I don’t mind. To a point. But like my sisters say, Brady needs a jolt, and I fully intend to give it to him.”
“Attagirl, you’ll have that man carrying a torch for you in no time. Why, half the men who come in this shop have a crush on you. Brady must be half blind or way more religious than you say. What did your sisters say to do?”
Lizzie grinned and carried a hefty stack of bestsellers to a nearby table. She shot a quick glance at the front desk where Mr. Harvey was assistin
g a customer. Millie trotted behind, sporting a considerably smaller pile of books in her arms. Lizzie peeked up at her friend beneath sweeping lashes bereft of mascara. She blushed. “They said I have to get him to kiss me.”
Millie whooped, and Mr. Harvey looked up with a frown. It was Millie’s turn to blush, rare color flooding her powdered cheeks. Her demeanor sobered considerably as she quickly helped Lizzie arrange the books into an attractive display. “That had to be Charity’s idea. That woman is a regular Mata Hari.”
Lizzie lowered her eyes, aware of Mr. Harvey’s intense scrutiny. She bit back a smile and focused hard on the task at hand. “Yes, it’s always been a talent of hers, it seems. So between Faith’s prayers and Charity’s skill with men, I hope I can turn Brady’s head.” She sighed and straightened the price placard in front of the books. “But I don’t know if I can do it. Just the thought of kissing that man leaves me weak in the knees.”
Millie chuckled and put the finishing touches on the display by fanning out several books in front of the exhibit. “You can do it. Just pretend it’s a scene in a play like you did last year in drama class. You were wonderful, as I recall. A real live wire.” She grinned. “Unlike the way you actually live your life.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Millie chanced a peek at Mr. Harvey to make sure he was still occupied with a customer. “But I have high hopes for you, Lizzie O’Connor. On the outside you’re this shy, demure little thing, but on the inside there’s all this passion and drama just itching to get out. Just like story time with the kids—you fairly sizzle with excitement and stimulation. Unfortunately, when it comes to men, you’re a real sad case.” She wiggled her brows and grinned. “Almost eighteen and never been kissed.”
Lizzie propped her hands on her hips. “Have to! Must I remind you that Tom Weston cornered me on the back staircase at your party last year?”
Millie folded her arms and arched a brow. “Did you kiss him back?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then you haven’t been kissed. And for the love of Mike, I still don’t know how anyone could not kiss Tom Weston back. That man is the bee’s knees. Is he still calling?”
A Passion Denied Page 4