A Hope Undaunted (30 page)

Parker smiled. “You mean like she has you?”

“Funny, Riley, real funny.” Luke plucked his suit coat off the back of his chair, dismissing Parker’s comment with a cocky smile. “I’m only laying low until I have her wrapped around mine, then we’ll just see who runs the show. Besides, with Gabe living there, I’ll have the chance to see Katie as much as I want, Jack or no Jack. And if Rich Boy wants to give me a fight, I may just rough him up. Either way, I plan to date Katie no matter what Jack – ” Luke gave Parker a pointed look, “or you – think about it. Come on, let’s get out of here – Bets is cooking tonight.”

“I sure hope you’re not biting off more than you can chew, McGee.” Parker rose with a loud exhale, resignation clear in his tone. “But I will admit – this is an interesting turn of events. Changes the color and complexion of everything. Gabe living with the O’Connors – who would have thought?” He shook his head. “That Katie is really something – taking a complicated and messy problem and parsing it down to one basic solution that makes everyone happy. I’m partial to simple black and white, so this is pure genius. It’s enough to make me want to kiss her myself.”

Luke cuffed an arm to his best friend’s shoulder and gave him a threatening grin. “I’d suggest not, Parker ol’ buddy,” he said as he walked him to the door. “Unless, of course, you’re partial to simple black and blue as well.”

Faith glanced at the clock over the stove for what seemed like the hundredth time, berating herself for being so stupid. Nine o’clock and still no Collin. With renewed vigor, she scrubbed the last remains of spaghetti sauce from the cream enamel of her kitchen stove, certain the dishrag would wear straight through to the cast iron beneath. She blew a strand of hair from her eyes with enough frustration to cause a stiff breeze, then looked at the clock again. A man should be at home with his wife and children on a Friday night, not hobnobbing with some other woman and her son while his wife kept his dinner warm in the oven.

If hobnobbing were accurate at all.

Heat that had nothing to do with the oven rolled into her cheeks, bringing shame along with it. She sucked in a deep swallow of air and discharged it, hopefully along with her guilt. She closed her eyes as her hand stilled on the stove, as limp as the dishrag in her hand. “Forgive me, Lord, for thinking such thoughts,” she whispered, conviction from this morning’s Scripture flooding her mind.

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever
things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever
things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely . . . think on
these things.

“I
will
think on what is true, honest, and lovely,” she said in a bold voice. The sound echoed loudly in her cozy cream and wood kitchen, suddenly reminding her that her children were in bed and she was all alone.

Again.

Whatever is true.
She forced herself to focus as she swabbed down her heavy oak table, wiping away perilous thoughts along with the cold spaghetti. What
was
true was that Collin McGuire was an incredible husband and father, working hard to ensure his family came first.

Most of the time.

She grated her lip. No, that wasn’t fair. His family always came first and would have tonight if she hadn’t said yes . . .

“Evelyn’s son wants to meet Brady and me,” he’d said with hesitation. His gray eyes had scanned her face carefully, watching, waiting . . .

She had flashed her most reassuring smile. “I think that sounds nice. When?”

Relief eased across his features. “Friday night, after work. I shouldn’t be late.”

“Of course, take your time.”

Faith rinsed the dishrag and stole another peek at the clock. 9:30. She dried her hands and reached for the teakettle, squaring her jaw.
Of course, I hadn’t meant literally.

No! She could do this, she could.
Whatever is honest.
She filled the teapot with water and set it to boil, remembering the time Collin had confessed to an unexpected afternoon of stickball with street urchins outside the back of the shop. That was the Saturday she’d asked him to watch the children so she could run an errand, but he had to work, he’d said, a rush job to get out the door. A smile softened the edges of her mouth. Later that night, the man had spilled the guilty truth, obsessive about honesty and totally uncomfortable with guilt burning a hole in his gut. Tightness in her chest eased as she spooned sugar into her favorite mug. The whistle of the kettle sang in the air, and she sighed with relief, anxious to warm the chill in her fingers. She poured the boiling water into her cup and steeped her tea with a slow, easy motion.

Whatever is pure.
She sank back into her chair and closed her eyes to take a sip. The comfort of Earl Gray steamed her face and coated her throat, warming her with thoughts of Collin. Before they were married, he’d been a man of base appetite, indulging in the pleasures of the flesh at every whim of his will. But God had won out, and Collin’s passion for lust had changed, becoming a passion for purity that had won him the true love he craved.

Whatever is lovely.
She warmed her hands on the sides of her cup and felt a shiver of heat that tingled all the way to her toes. Certainly the easiest “whatever” of the lot, for if Collin McGuire was anything, it was “lovely,” Faith thought with a languid sigh. She closed her eyes and envisioned the man who had fathered her children, and tears readily pricked her eyes.
Thank you, God, for giving me the desire of my
heart!
In her mind’s eye she saw his smoldering good looks and his teasing ways, and warmth rushed through her body that had little to do with the tea in her hands. At thirty-four years of age, Collin seemed to be a man who only improved with time, and whenever he walked through her door, he never failed to trigger her pulse.

And Evelyn’s?

Her eyes popped open and she sucked in a harsh breath, fisting the mug. “No! I trust my husband, I do!” Without hesitation, she began to pray, desperate to ward off any such thoughts.

She glanced up as a key in the door sounded just as the clock in the parlor chimed ten. With unsteady hands, she set the mug on the table and rose, smoothing her skirt with far too sweaty palms. She heard his footsteps in the hall and waited, then darted to the sink to wash her empty cup, desperate to appear nonchalant.

She never turned around, but she heard his approach all the same, and her stomach fluttered at the press of his lips against her neck. “You waited up. I’m glad,” he whispered, arms twined around her waist. “I missed you, Faith.”

He eased her around and scanned her face, eyes sober with apology. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

A hoarse chuckle caught in her throat as she pulled away. She hurried to the oven to retrieve his dinner. “You must be starved.”

“Actually, no. Evelyn’s mother insisted I eat.”

She stared, pot holders adhered to her hands as she held his plate of spaghetti, now as dry as the roof of her mouth. “Oh.”

“You’re upset.”

“No, no, I’m not. I just wish you’d called.”

He took a step forward and gently removed the plate from her hands. “I did. Bella said you were giving Abby a bath, so I asked her to tell you not to save dinner.” Taking her hand in his, he led her to the table. “I can eat. Will you sit with me?”

She swallowed hard and nodded, careful to keep her mood light as she chattered about her evening with the girls and fetched him a glass of milk. Placing it on the table, she retrieved utensils and a napkin before slipping into the chair next to his, giving him a ready smile. “So . . . what’s Evelyn’s son like?” she asked. “Other than being a typical thirteen-year-old boy?”

Collin twirled his fork in the spaghetti and took a bite, studying her as he chewed. He drank some milk and then set it down with a heavy sigh. “I’m afraid there’s nothing typical about Tommy. He’s confined to bed most of the time, not able to play with other kids or even get outside for a little fresh air.” He bent to shovel more noodles in his mouth, but not before Faith saw a glimmer of moisture in his eyes. He quickly chewed and swallowed. “The poor guy is little more than skin and bones, but he has a mind and a wit sharper than any kid I’ve ever seen.”

With a catch in her throat, Faith placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll bet it meant the world for you and Brady to visit.”

He gulped more milk, eyeing her as it glugged down his throat. He swiped his mouth with the side of his sleeve despite the napkin in his lap. “It did, you could tell. I guess he’s starved for male attention because he lit up when Brady and I walked in.” Collin averted his gaze to focus on his dinner, his voice slow and measured. “So when Brady had to leave after an hour, I don’t know, I just felt like I needed to stay for a while, you know?” He rolled more spaghetti on his fork and popped it in his mouth. He looked up with a faint smile. “Did I tell you he’s a master at chess?
Which
is why I’m late tonight, as a matter of fact. Actually, it’s pretty embarrassing. The kid gave me a thrashing that would make your father proud.”

Faith grinned, relief ebbing through her at the sullen tease on her husband’s face. “Mmm . . . I’ll bet that information will come in handy if I ever need leverage. I’m sure both Mitch and Father would have a heyday with that bit of news.”

He looked at her then, his eyes as soft and intense as his daughters’ when they whispered their prayers to God. Without warning, he suddenly dropped his fork with a clatter and hauled her onto his lap. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he cocooned her in his arms with a tight squeeze, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His voice was low and gruff and so thick with emotion, tears stung her eyes. “You don’t need leverage with me, Mrs. McGuire,” he whispered, “I need it with you. I love you more with every waking moment, Faith, and I can’t help but wonder – how in God’s name did I ever find a woman like you?”

Her heart swelled till she thought she would burst, and her eyes welled at the moisture she felt on her neck. “In God’s name, Collin,” she repeated softly, “where the desires of one’s heart always rest.” She pressed a gentle kiss to the edge of his bristly jaw as a wellspring of gratitude dampened her cheeks. “The desires of our heart, my love. Both yours,” she whispered, “and mine.”

“Jack, I
have
to go in! You want another two and a half months between dates? Besides, I’m cold.” Katie pushed him away, a smile quirking her lips at the moonstruck glaze in his eyes.

He made a valiant attempt to reel her back to his side of the car in spite of two palms flat against his argyle vest. In a deft move, he bypassed her barrier with a lift at the waist to deposit her on his lap, disarming her with a hungry kiss before she could object. “I’ll keep you warm, doll.” His whisper faded to a groan. “Oh, do you have any idea how much I missed you?”

Yes, she did.

He’d shown it all night. From the five-pound box of chocolates and two dozen long-stemmed red roses, to the lavish dinner at Boston’s finest restaurant and endless kisses in the car. Without question, Jack Worthington was everything she’d ever wanted in a man – rich, handsome, ambitious, well-connected . . . and eating out of her hand.

She held her wristwatch up to the light of the streetlamp that filtered in through his side of the car. “It’s five minutes before ten, Jack, and if I don’t rattle that doorknob at the exact stroke of the hour, you’re going to learn what missing me is really all about.” She unlatched the driver’s door and wiggled off his lap to hop onto the running board before landing on the street.

He swung out of the car and grabbed her hand, tugging her back into his arms. His eyes were intense in the shadowed light. “Katydid, wait! I need to tell you something,”

And then before she could stop her jaw from sagging, John Henry Worthington dropped to one knee, right there on the leaf-littered cobblestones of Donovan Street. “Katie Rose O’Connor, I want more from you than two and a half months between dates and ten o’clock curfews.” He held up a diamond ring that sparkled in the lamplight like the hope in his eyes. “I want to see you every day and sleep with you every night. I want to hold you and kiss you and love you whenever I want. So what do you say, Katydid – will you marry me?”