A Passion Denied

by Julie Lessman

  “You will, Lizzie,” Faith said. “I’m just glad they’re back to normal. Mother looks like a young girl again with that glow in her face. And Father has been acting almost as spunky as Collin and Mitch these days, the way he’s been hovering over her.” She sighed. “I hope and pray we all have marriages like them. As a matter of fact, Mother’s the perfect example of Ephesians 5:22. I don’t know what happened between those two, but trust me, if Collin had been sleeping at his shop for over a month, I would have burned the place down. With him in it.”

  Charity chuckled. “How did that Irish temper of yours ever hook up with God?”

  “I don’t know—his mercy, I guess.”

  Lizzie sighed and sagged back in the chair, jealous of her sisters for the first time she could remember. “You two are so lucky. Both of you have wonderful marriages, just like Mother and Father. I wish I could be sure of having that too. I mean, I was sure when I thought it would be Brady, but apparently that’s not meant to be. And now that Michael says he’s in love with me—”

  “What?” Faith and Charity jerked up in their chairs at the same time, wrenching a faint cry from both of the twins. The sisters commenced patting with a fury while their shocked gazes locked on Lizzie’s face. “How? When?”

  Lizzie worked her bottom lip, brows sloped over anxious eyes. “He told me the other night, after dinner with the family. Said that Brady couldn’t love me the way I wanted, but that he could.”

  “Sweet saints above,” Faith muttered, still patting Hope like a house afire.

  “And what did you say?” Charity demanded, her tone as shocked as the look on Faith’s face.

  Lizzie started to nibble on a nail. “Well, at first I told him no, that I’d promised Brady, but then he . . . well, he . . .”

  Both sisters gaped, a hand frozen on the back of each twin. Lizzie swallowed hard. “He kissed me, and well, now I’m confused.”

  “You liked it?” Charity asked.

  Lizzie nodded, peeking over a well-chewed thumbnail.

  Faith slumped back in the chair and stared at Charity. “Saints in heaven, what are we going to do? She can’t fall for Michael. It will destroy Brady. And besides, he has no faith in God—”

  “He’s trying, though,” Lizzie said.

  Charity’s lips skewed in thought. “No, she can’t fall in love with him. We know nothing about him, but . . .” She sat up with a smile that suggested trouble. “He might just be the ultimate bait to turn his brother’s head.”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Lizzie cried, spitting a piece of nail out of her mouth. “I’m through using people to turn John Brady’s head. And what’s more, I will not do that to Michael. He’s done nothing but treat me with respect, going to church with us and behaving like a perfect gentleman—”

  Charity arched a brow. “Like in Brady’s apartment?”

  Lizzie blushed. “That was different. He told me he was just trying to light a fire under his brother because he knew I was in love with him. But he hasn’t laid a finger on me since, and it’s been almost two months.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Until the other night.”

  “So, how did you leave it?” Charity wanted to know.

  “I told him I would think about it . . . and pray about it.” She gulped more air. “And talk to Brady.”

  Faith shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to be there for that conversation.”

  “Do you like him?” Charity asked, her eyes searching Lizzie’s.

  Lizzie thought about Michael—how easy he was to talk to, how attentive he seemed to be, the softness of his kiss—and felt a faint stirring of excitement and trepidation. “I think so,” she whispered, staring down at her clenched hands, “but I’m not sure. I haven’t allowed myself to think of him that way, because of Brady. But now . . .”

  She looked up at her sisters, and a sudden flare of annoyance rose within. “Now I wonder why I should let Brady have any say at all. He certainly doesn’t want me—why should he keep me from someone who does?”

  Faith leaned forward, the intensity of her gaze making Lizzie squirm. “That’s anger talking, Lizzie, and frustration, which is understandable. But the thing that worries me the most, regardless of Brady, is whether Michael is the type of man God wants for you, a man cut from the same cloth as Father, Mitch, and Collin . . . and Brady.” She paused. “Is he?”

  Lizzie closed her eyes, seeing Michael’s handsome face in her mind. He had done nothing to show her otherwise. Had, in fact, lavished more kindness and attention on her in the last two months than Brady had in the last six. And his newfound faith was young, certainly, but growing. Because of her.

  She sighed and opened her eyes. “I don’t know, Faith. I don’t know what God wants for me anymore. I thought I did. I thought it was Brady. Was convinced to the depth of my soul that God intended him for me. But apparently that hope was birthed by nothing more than the delusions of a thirteen-year-old girl. I’m confused and don’t know what to make of Michael’s attention. But I’ll tell you one thing I do know. It’s time I grow up and get on with my life. And that means without Brady.” A sad smile lingered on her lips. “At least the stubborn one.”

  Faith reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’re in this with you, Lizzie, all the way. We’ll pray you through it, I promise.”

  Lizzie smiled and blinked back the wetness that seeped into her eyes. She squeezed Faith’s hand and reached for Charity’s. “I know that,” she whispered, grateful for the love and support of her sisters. “I’d be lost if I didn’t.”

  Collin hadn’t seen Brady in this good of a mood since Miss Ramona cancelled the spring recital. Not that John Brady rejoiced in two-thirds of the dance troupe contracting chickenpox, but the reprieve from four hours of “culture,” as Brady liked to call it, had definitely put a bounce in his step. Over the last week, despite a ridiculous workload, Brady had been smiling and whistling ad nauseam, taking whatever jobs Collin piled on with his usual grace and good humor, and then some.

  Collin glanced up from the invoices he was drafting and scowled. Having to work on a Saturday always put him in a bad mood. But Brady was cranking out jobs faster than Collin could bill them, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Not the speed, which enabled them to have the best month on the books ever, but the blasted off-key whistling that went along with it.

  “Ya think you can close the coffin on that particular song, ol’ buddy? ‘Amazing Grace’ is starting to wear thin on my patience.”

  Brady looked up and grinned. Collin could swear he saw undulating ripples of heat rise from the press his partner had been laboring over since six a.m., steaming his face with a sheen of hard-earned sweat. Brady flicked the lever on the machine, and the roar of the press expired, along with Collin’s patience.

  Ambling into the room where Collin sat, Brady mopped his face with a gray towel that had once been white. “Thin? I’d say you’re fresh out. You’ve been glaring at those invoices like we owe money instead of making it hand over fist. You still fretting over the fact we have to hire a new man . . . or are you back to butting heads with Faith?”

  Collin shoved the stack of invoices out of his way and put his feet up on his desk with a grunt. He rubbed an ink-stained hand over his face. “No, I’m resigned to the fact that we can’t do everything ourselves anymore, and I think the new guy we hired will work out well. And it’s time for us to grow, so that’s not a problem.”

  “So, it’s Faith, then.” Brady positioned himself on the well-worn corner where so many of their conversations took place. “Still the baby thing?”

  Collin peeked up beneath the hand shielding his eyes and gave Brady a halfhearted smile. “No, she’s been wonderful, almost as intent as me. Praying with me about it, always ready and willing no matter how tired she may be.” The smile broadened on his lips. “She’s even been giving me a taste of my own medicine lately, on those rare nights when the only thing I have on my mind is sleep.”

  Brady laughed. “I alwa
ys said you were a bad influence.”

  Collin grinned. “Yeah, I guess I am. No, Faith is amazing. Our marriage is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Brady squinted and folded his arms. “But?”

  Collin sighed and reached for a pencil off his desk. He proceeded to twirl it between his fingers, careful to avoid Brady’s eyes. “But, it’s looking like she’ll be promoted to copywriter.”

  “That’s wonderful. She’s worked for that over five years now. So, what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is, I’m not happy about it and I should be, because I love her more than life itself. I feel like a royal jerk. I mean, here she is, accomplishing something few women ever get the chance to do, a lifelong dream of hers, and how do I react? I’m sullen and resentful because I worry it will shift her focus off of me and the baby.”

  “The baby?”

  Collin pursed his lips. “The baby I hope to have and probably would have if my wife stayed home and concentrated on having a family rather than a job.” He groaned and tossed the pencil on the desk. “Dear Lord, how much more selfish can I get?”

  Brady’s lips, pressed in a noncommittal line, suddenly squirmed to the right. “Not much.”

  Collin’s gaze narrowed. “I always appreciate your support, John, especially when it comes to clarifying my faults, but what am I supposed to do about this? I feel like a heel.”

  “You’re not a heel, Collin, you’re a human being who, like the rest of the human race, has heel tendencies. Have you prayed about it?”

  Collin blinked. “What?”

  Brady’s lips twisted, as if fighting a smile. “You know, asked God to help you be the supportive husband Faith needs, or asked him to bless her in this situation?”

  Collin’s jaw dropped. “And why would I do that? I don’t want her to be a copywriter.”

  “No, but if it happens, apparently God does. We’re going for his agenda, not yours, remember? You’ve been asking God that if Faith is supposed to quit, she would, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, if she gets promoted, looks to me like it’s where she’s supposed to be right now. You’re just going to have to trust God for the timing of your family and pray to be the husband Faith needs right now—supportive and proud of her.”

  Collin expelled all the frustration he was feeling in one draining breath. “I know. And I am proud of her. She’s a great writer and a hard worker and she deserves this promotion.” He glanced up. “But you gotta help me out here, Brady. What do I do besides pray?”

  “Tell her how proud you are, then encourage her, celebrate with a surprise party when she gets the promotion, no matter how you feel inside. Make it a big deal, because it is. She has the rest of her life to be the mother of your children—let her enjoy her dream for however long she can.” Brady stood to his feet and held the dirty rag out, his grin stretching ear to ear. “And for pity’s sake, pray for God to help you be happy for her and content with it. Then wipe that ink off your face. You’re starting to look like me.”

  Collin grabbed the ink-streaked towel and wiped his cheek. He tossed it aside and opened his top desk drawer to pull out an apple Faith had packed in his lunch. “Thanks, John. But if I wanted to look like you, I’d have to paste a goofy grin on my face and offend your delicate sensitivities with off-key whistling. I don’t know what’s been driving me crazier the last few weeks—the whistling or the nonstop smiles. What’s got you in such a chipper mood these days? Can’t be just the new hire.”

  Ruddy color stained Brady’s thick neck, and Collin leaned forward with a grin. “So, what’s up? You got a lady you’ve been hiding from me?”

  For all of his six-foot-three height, John Brady looked more like an awkward high schooler with his fists shoved deep in his pockets and his cheeks as red as the apple in Collin’s hand. His throat bobbed, but the grin still shone on his face. “I think so, Collin. I’m in love.”

  Mid-bite, Collin began to choke, prompting Brady to slap him hard on the back. Collin waved him away and gaped. “What?”

  Brady sat back on the desk, exposing more teeth than Collin had ever seen. “I’m in love, Collin—for the first time in my life—in every possible way. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally, physically.”

  Collin shook his head in disbelief, the apple limp in his hand. “Who?”

  Brady grinned again, and Collin would have laid money on the table that the man’s facial muscles were going to be screaming tonight, given his smile that bordered on delirium.

  “Beth,” Brady whispered.

  Collin sat straight up. “Our Beth? Lizzie?”

  Brady nodded, his face beaming like a man who had just seen the face of God.

  “What? When? Sweet saints, does she even know?”

  “Nope, not yet. I’m planning on taking it real slow, getting to know her as a woman, to make sure I can handle it before I let her know. I think the feelings of shame are gone, but I want to make sure so I don’t hurt her again. I’m taking her fishing with Katie and Cluny this weekend, kind of like a date, only she doesn’t know that.”

  A dozen questions ricocheted in Collin’s mind as he stared, his jaw sagging low. “I don’t understand. How? When? Why did this all happen? I thought you couldn’t go there.”

  Brady’s grin softened into a smile. “I couldn’t, not until Father Mac helped me get past it. I’ve been counseling with him for the last four months. I finally realized I’ve been in love with Beth all along, only the shame of my past wouldn’t allow me to see it. But I’m free now, and with God’s help, I intend to make her my wife.”

  For several seconds, Collin just stared, certain his mouth would lock in the gaping position as surely as Brady’s smile would permanently freeze on his face. And then a mist of joy sprang to his eyes and he bolted from the chair, seizing his friend in a fierce embrace. “Sweet chorus of angels, John, I couldn’t be happier. Brothers at last!”

  Brady’s voice was gruff. “I know, Collin. I never thought I could be this happy.”

  Collin slapped him on the back and then pumped his hand in a hearty handshake. “It’s nothing short of God’s blessings, my friend, long, long overdue—” His words suddenly fused to his tongue. The smile faded from his face.

  Brady frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Collin’s chest tightened as he thought of Lizzie and the secret Faith had sworn him to.

  “Collin? Something’s wrong—what is it?”

  Collin looked away and threaded his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, there is. I don’t think it’s anything serious yet, but—”

  Brady latched a hand to his arm and jerked him around. “You have to tell me—is Lizzie seeing someone?”

  Collin studied his friend, measuring his words carefully. “She’s been seeing your brother—you know that.”

  The tension in Brady’s face eased a bit as he removed his hand from Collin’s arm. “Yeah, I know that. Going to church with her and an occasional dinner at the house. But she promised me, Collin, promised she’d only fall for a man who loves God with all of his heart. And that’s not Michael, I can tell you that.”

  Collin turned and slumped into his chair, eyeing Brady through wary eyes. “No, no, it’s not. But I have to tell you, ol’ buddy, the dinners have been more than occasional, and the spiritual effort more than convincing. Your brother’s a charmer, John, and everybody knows that Lizzie’s a romantic. I can’t go into it, but I’m telling you now. If you are going to make your move, I suggest you do it sooner rather than later.”

  Brady stared, the smile completely wiped from his face. “What do you know, Collin? What do you know about Lizzie’s feelings for Michael?”

  “I can’t go into it, Brady, but trust me on this.”

  Brady hovered over his desk, ink-stained hands pressed white on the marred surface. “I want to know, right now. Is Beth falling for my brother?”

  “I can’t tell you that, John, but read between the lines.”


  “Did Faith tell you something I should know?”

  “Yeah, she did. But she also made me promise not to tell you.”

  Brady leaned in, his eyes burning with a fury that Collin had seldom seen. “So help me, Collin, if you don’t tell me right now, I will come across this desk . . .”

  Collin stared at his friend, indecision roiling in his gut. He’d promised his wife because she’d promised her sister. But Brady had a right to know—Lizzie belonged with him. He took a deep breath and prayed to heaven that Faith would never find out. “He’s in love with her, Brady, or at least he told her so.”

  “He’s lying.”

  “Maybe, but Lizzie doesn’t seem to think so. He says he can give her what you can’t.”

  Brady stared, his eyes glazed like a man who’d gone without sleep for days on end. A nerve fluttered in his cheek. “That no-good, lousy—”

  “He asked her to think about it, to pray about it.”

  A swear word hissed from Brady’s mouth, the sound strange to Collin’s ears. Brady’s fist bludgeoned Collin’s desk. “He’s using her!”

  “I don’t think so, John,” Collin whispered, reluctant to go on. “He wants to marry her.”

  Brady sucked in a sharp breath, and his face paled. His shoulders sagged as he put a hand to his head. “But she doesn’t love him.”

  “No, but she’s confused. And he’s not making it easy on her.”

  Brady glanced up, a razor edge to his voice. “What do you mean?”

  Collin shifted in the chair. “So help me, God, if Faith ever finds out I told you this—”

  “Spit it out it, Collin . . . now!”

  Collin weighed his options and decided if he were in Brady’s place, he’d want to know. Besides, he’d already said enough to break his promise to Faith; what was one more detail? He locked eyes with his friend. “According to Faith, Michael’s kissed Lizzie several times, and it’s muddied the waters for her.” Collin drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Faith seems to think Lizzie’s falling for him, John.”